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A  UTHOR : 


DORAN,  JOHN 


TITLE: 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS 
OF  ENGLAND  OF  THE  .. 


PLACE: 


NEW  YORK 


DA  TE : 


1855 


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■  I.  "t  ■      W         m    ■>»'•*    ii'i     i|      » 


942 
D726 


Doran,  John,  1807-1878.  \ 

Lives  of  the  queens  of  England  of  the  house  of  Han-  ; 
over.    By  Dr.  Doran  ...    London,  B,  BQntloy,,1855, 


L  Gt  Brit — Queens.    8.  Hanover,  House  of. 


Library  of  Congress 


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MfiNUFRCTURED   TO   flllM   STRNDfiRDS 
BY   RPPLIED   IMRGE,     INC. 


Columbia  ©nibemtp 

intfjeCitpofiJetDl^orb 


MHRARY 


* 


Works  by  Dr.   Do  ran,  uniform  with 
LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND." 


I. 


Just  Published, 


HABITS  AND  MEN,  OR  REMNANTS   OF  RECORD, 

TOUCHING    THE    MAKERS    OF   BOTH. 
1  Tol.  Price  $1. 


II. 


TABLE  TRAITS :  WITH  SOMETHING  ON  THEM. 


In  One  Vol.  I'^roo  Pric«  $1  'JJ 


PUBLISHED  BY  J.  S.  REDFIELD,  NEW  YORK. 


QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND 


OF    THE 


HOUSE    OF   HANOVER 


BY  DR.  DORAN, 

AUTHOR     OP     "HABIT*     AND     M  E  .V  ,"     "TABLE     T  B  A  I  T  8  ,"     ET 


IN     TWO     VOLUMES. 


VOL.  L 


REDFIELD 

NO.   34  BEEK.M  AN-STREET,   NEW  YORK 

1855 


I 


«t«%^ 


i# 


9^ 


\     ^ 


t       •* 


|v        1 


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INTRODUCTION. 


In  the  reign  of  George  II.  there  lived  a  Win.hir-         .1 
Methue,,  who  had  a  passion  for  r^ttThf !       ^J'"'"''  "^""J  P»"l 
.in.e.     Queen  CaroUne  loved  to  tl.;^^:  o'n  hL  :X.?''!,  "■"!,"  "'  "" 
h.n,  what  he  had  la«  been  reading      "  May  U^leL  r"""^  ^'""^ 

Paul...,  have  hcen  reading  a  poof  boo  "on  a  p^^^  ^  t^"" '"'. 
queens  of  Enrrland  "     4«  far  r,«  »k«        r.      ..   ,  suDject,— the  kings  and 

p.rhap..bef„t.nd.ohat:„:       r'r^^^^^^^^^ 

Mcthuen'8  words  to  Carolme      If  »„?     w  --^  catalogued  in  Paul 

characterizing,  it  win  p::^,;  be  thZC::?:"  7','""  k"""'  ""=' 
writer,  who  were  sometime'  the  wTne«es  of  a^T  ,k"  "'  """'"" 
scene,  they  describe.     Whatever  therT?     f  "  ""*  '^"  '"•  ""> 

found,  and  I  have  no  part  the  1      I   "  '    f,T"l:  "  "  °°'^  "-"«  •«  ^^ 

"emen,  who  nightly  rttendeH^iab  eTartt  'whirhr  b ""  "'"  ''r"  ^"- 
«elve»,  they  took  their  wittiest  slave,  t/  T  '    *'"«  "'""'*  """n- 

;he.aughtrandappi:ur::rm;re;trp":^tt:r^^^^^ 

I  could  find  an  eye-witness,  I  have  allowed  him  to  snell  7  ^^^""" 
some  length,  for  I  question  if  one  could  „a„™elatn  '"""'""^"y  »' 

that  is.  more  truly.-than  Ulysses  himself  "'^'"''  ''"'  '*"*'•- 

It  IS  hardly  necessaiy  for  me  to  add  that  I  have  nn.  „-.k     . 
of  alarm  at  my  own  boldness,  taken  up  a  ttme "lich  kast"      """'  '"""^ 
treated  by  MUs  Strickland,  and,  in  th'e  "  QTelnl before  th!  r" '""'""^ 
"Ptntedly,  by  Mrs.  Matthew  Hall.     When  I  th^k  of^ie  el         T'"'    "" 
the  volumes  of  the  latter,  and  the  pictorial  pr«etsi„„  tf  I  ^"'"'*'  " 

those  of  the  former  lady,  and  comnare  with  ^^  "^  ""  'P"''-  " 

and  incidents,  I  am  reminded  ofTh     S   ti  nTairtoT  """"•.-«"»'"• 
and  the  well-read  monk  whom  be  had  taken  goss.pmg  knight 

'»  tell,  by  turns  the  histlrlTf  '""""""  ^-"  '  """"i  y™  both 

^riK    :  .  ^  °^  y°"'  ""™  "at  ve  land.     You  sir  Pri...  j 

•cnbe  It  wiselv  and  well  •  »l,;i.  .  •     i,   .  .  '  "'  J^nest,  de- 

H«    and  leave'  a  to^JftatrTtrJ^^r  '^iZ.'X::  ""  "- 
much  .„  be  told  of  the  royal  ladies  whose  names  arVrn^2d  „„  .hi  " 

of  these  volumes  ;  and  should  the  long-desired  but  nM      .  !  ''^" 


INTRODUCTION. 


Cphc„,  ana  ,0  able  a  co.n.entato,  on  ^--J^\^Zl::>"J^e^y 
Everett  Green,  I  shall  feel  more  '^an  ever  and  mde«l.haU  ^^^  ^^^_ 

resigned  to  feel.  «hat  sort  of  honor  BtbuluB  "J^y""  ™\„„,,,  „ff„ing 

,0  dedicate  to  ^^^^  ^^^^^_  ^gQ     p  g^  _  ^ 

One  .ho  is  too  well  endowed,  .eotally.  not  to  a.  once  ^^^^^^ 
■defects,  yet  too  kindly  affectioned  to  be  o'"'--  "^  f;;  f„  „,  ..  ,„„ 

"i^ire'tr;:  zriz;  rr  hands\f .» obu^ed  ana 

grateful  friend,  ^^j,  AUTHOR. 


LIVES 


OF   THB 


QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


SOPHIA  DOROTHEA,  OF  ZELL, 

WIFE   OF   GEORGE   I. 

Du  GliLnzende  ist  nicht  immer  du  Bessere. 

KoTZEBTTB,  Brudcr  MoriU. 


CHAPTER  I. 


GEORGE  OP  BRUNSWICK-ZELL  AND  ELEANORE  D  OLBREUSE. 

When  George  the  First  ascended  the  throne  of  England,  the 
heralds,  with  an  alacrity  at  once  officious  and  official,  proceeded 
to  furnish  him  with  that  sort  of  greatness  without  profit  and  with- 
out value,  which  it  is  part  of  their  profession  to  provide  for  those 
who  are  weak  enough  to  need  it,  and  wealthy  enough  to  pay  for  it. 
They,  in  other  words,  provided  him  with  an  ancestry ;  and  they 
constructed  that  crane's  foot  roll  which  the  Normans  knew  by  the 
name  of  a  "  pied  de  grue,"  and  which  pretended,  with  pleasant 
disregard  of  truth,  that  his  Majesty,  who  had  few  god-like  virtues 
of  his  own,  was  descended  from  that  deified  hero,  Woden,  whose 
virtues,  according  to  the  bards,  were  all  of  a  god-like  quality. 
Now,  George  Louis  of  Brunswick-Lunebourg,  with  respect  to 
AV^oden,  was,  as  Dumas  remarks,  of  a  questionable  great-grand- 
son of  Charlemagne,  "  un  descendent  bien  descendu."     The  two 


6  LIVES  OF  THE    QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 

• 

had  little  in  common,  save  lack  of  true-heartedness  towards  their 
wives. 

The  more  modest  builders  of  ancestral  pride,  who  ventured  to 
water  genealogical  trees  for  all  the  branches  of  Brunswick  to  bud 
upon — before  the  princes  of  the  family  so  named  ever  hoped  to  sit 
in  the  seat  of  the  Conqueror  and  Ca^ur  de  Lion,  did  not  dig  deeper 
for  a  root,  or  go  farther  for  a  fountain  head  than,  into  the  Italian 
soil,  of  the  year  1028.  Even  then,  they  found  nothing  more  or 
less  noble  than  a  certain  Azon  d'Este,  Marquis  of  Tuscany,  who 
having  little  of  sovereign  about  him,  except  his  will,  joined  the 
banner  of  the  Emperor  Conrad,  and  hoped  to  make  a  fortune  in 
Germany,  either  by  cutting  throats,  or  by  subduing  hearts  whose 
owners  were  heiresses  of  unencumbered  lands. 

Azon  was  as  irresistible  in  held  and  bower  as  his  almost  name- 
sake, Azor,  of  the  fairy  tide,  and  not  only  did  this  truly  designated 
soldier  of  fortune  Avin  a  name  by  liis  sword,  but  a  heart  by  his 
tongue.  He  was  doubly  lucky,  it  may  be  added,  in  his  bride,  for 
when  he  espoused  Cunegunda  of  Guelph,  he  married  a  lady  who. 
was  not  only  wealthy,  but  who  had  the  additional  attraction  and 
adviintj^e  of  being  the  last  of  her  race.  The  household  was,  con- 
sequently, a  happy  one,  and  when  there  appeared  an  heir  to  its 
honors  in  the  person  of  Guelph  d'Este  the  Robust,  the  vaticma- 
ting  court-poet  foretold  brilliant  fortunes  for  his  house,  yet  failed 
to  see  the  culminating  brillmncy  which  awaited  it  in  Britain,  beyond 
their  ken. 

It  is  singular,  howe^^r.  to  see  how  soon  the  Guelplis  of  Este 
became  connected  with  Britain.  This  same  Prince  -  Robust,"  of 
whom  I  have  just  spoken,  when  he  had  come  to  man's  estate, 
wooed  no  maiden  heiress  as  his  father  had  done,  but  won  the  wid- 
owed sister-in-bw  of  our  ^eat  Harold.  The  lady  in  question  was 
Judith,  daughter  of  Baldwin  de  Lisle,  Count  of  Flanders,  and 
widow  of  Tftjtic,  Earl  of  Kent.  He  took  her  by  the  hand  while 
she  was  yet  seated  under  the  shadow  of  her  gl^at  sorrow,  and 
looking  up  at  Guelph  the  Robust,  she  smiled  and  was  comforted. 

Guelph  was  less  satisfactorily  provided  with  wealth  than  the 
comely  Judith,  but  in  the  days  m  which  he  lived  provision  was 
easily  made,  were  he  who  needed  it  only  in  favor  with  the  impe- 


SOPHIA   DOKOTHEA.  7 

rial  magician,  at  whose  word  fortunes  rose,  disappeared,  and  were 
transferred  from  one  prince  to  another  without  troublmg  the  le<ral 
conveyancers.  ° 

Guelph  and  Judith  had  found  this  important  favor  in  the  eyes 
of  the  Emperor  Henry  IV.,  who,  forthwhh  ejected  Otho  of  Sax- 
ony from  his  possessions  in  Bavaria,  and  conferred  the  same,  with 
a  dreadfully  long  list  of  rights  and  appurtenances,  on  the  newly- 
married  couple. 

These  possessions  were  lost  to  the  family  by  the  rebellion  of 
Guelph*s  great-grandson  against  Frederick  Barbarossa.  The  dis- 
inherited prince,  however,  found  fortune  again,  by  help  of  a  mar- 
riage and  an  English  king.  He  had  been  previously  united  to 
3Iaud,  the  sister  of  Henry  II.,  and  his  royal  brother-in-law,  with 
that  benevolence  which  prevails  so  largely  in  all  communities,  took 
unwearied  pams  to  find  some  one  who  could  afford  him  material 
assistance.  He  succeeded,  and  Guelph  received,  from  another 
emperor,  the  gift  of  the  countships  of  Brunswick  and  Lunebourg. 
Otho  IV.  raised  them  to  duchies,  and  William  (Guelph)  was  the 
first  duke  of  the  united  possessions,  about  the  year  1200. 

Since  that  period,  dukes  in  Brunswick  have  seldom  failed,  but 
the  heir  to  the  title,  if  he  were  a  child  when  he  could  lav  claim  to 
his  inheritance,  usually  found  a  wicked  uncle  in  possession,  who 
affected  to  act  upon  trust,  but  who  never  would  acknowledge  his 
wards  majority  except  under  the  irresistible  pressure  of  force. 
Thus,  Otho  the  Child,  would  probably  have  lost  all  of  his  inherit- 
ance except  his  claims  to  it,  but  for  the  energetic  action  in  his 
favor  exercised  by  the  Emperor  Frederick. 

The  early  dukes  were  for  the  most  part  wariike  in  character, 
but  their  bravery  was  rather  of  a  rash  and  excitable  character] 
than  heroically,  yet  calmly  firm.  Some  of  them  were  remarkable 
for  their  unhappy  tempers,  and  acquired  names  which  unpleasantly 
distinguish  them  in  this  respect.  I  may  cite,  as  instances,  Henry, 
who  was  not  only  called  the  "young,^'  from  his  years,  and  "the 
black,"  from  his  swarthiness,  but  ••  the  dog."  because  of  his  undig- 
nified snarling  propensities.  So  ^lagnus,  who  was  sumamed  ^  the 
collared,"  in  allusion  to  the  gold  chain  which  hung  from  his  bull- 
neck,  was  also  known  as  the  "  insolent,"  and  the  "  violent,"  from 


8 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


SOPHIA   DOROTHEA. 


9 


the  circumstance  that  he  was  ever  either  insufferably  haughty  or 

insanely  passionate.  j.  •  i  j 

The  House  of  Brunswick  has,  at  various  times,  been  divided 
into  the  branches  of  Brunswick-Lunebourg,  Brunswick-Wolfen- 
buttel,  Brunswick-Zell,  Brunswick-Dimneberg,  &c  These  divi- 
sions have  arisen  from  marriages,  transfers,  and  interclianges. 
The  first  duke  who  created  a  division  was  Duke  Bernard,  who, 
early  in  the  fifteenth  century,  exchanged  with  a  kinsman  his  duchy 
of  Brunswick  for  that  of  Lunebourg,  and  so  founded  the  branch 
which  bears,  or  bore,  that  double  name. 

The  sixteenth  duke,  Otho,  wjis  the  first  who  is  supposed  to  have 
brought  a  blot  upon  the  ducal  scutcheon,  by  honestly  marrying 
rather  according  to  his  heart  than  his  interests.  His  wife  was  a 
simple  lady  of  Brunswick,  named  Matilda  de  Campen.  The  two 
lived  as  happily  together  as  the  stirring  times  and  attendant  anxi- 
eties would  allow  them ;  and  they  paid  as  dearly  for  the  felicity 
which  they  enjoyed  as  thd  their  descendant,  of  whom  I  shall  pres- 
ently speak,  who  also  espoused  a  lady  below  the  line  of  ducal  sov- 
ereignty, and  who  gave  to  England  the  second  of  her  queens  whose 
feet  never  rested  upon  English  soil. 

It  became  the  common  object  of  all  the  dukes  of  the  various 
Brunswick  branches  to  increase  the  importance  of  a  house  which 
had  contributed  something  to  the  imperial  greatness  of  Germany. 
They  endeavored  to  accomplish  tliis  common  object  by  intemiar- 
riases,  but  the  desired  consummation  was  not  achieved  until  a 
comparatively  recent  period, — when  the  branch  of  Brunswick- 
Lunebourg  became  Electors,  and  subsequently  Kings  of  Hanover, 
and  that  of  Brunswick- Wolfenbuttel,  Sovereign  Dukes  of  Bruns- 
wick. 

The  grandfather  of  our  George  I.,  William,  Duke  of  Brunswick- 
Lunebourg,  had  seven  sons,  and  all  these  were  dukes,  like  their 
father.  On  the  decease  of  the  latter,  they  affected  to  discover  that 
if  the  seven  heirs,  each  witli  his  little  dukedom,  were  to  marry, 
the  greatness  of  the  house  would  suffer  alarming  diminution,  and 
the  ducal  gem  be  ultimately  crushed  into  numberless  glittering  but 
not  very,  valuable  fragments. 

They  accordingly  came  to  a  singulai'  yet  natural  conclusion. 


They  determined  that  one  alone  of  the  brothers  should  form  a  legal 
matrimonial  connection,  and  that  the  naming  of  the  lucky  re-foun- 
der of  the  dignity  of  Brunswick  should  be  left  to  chance ! 

The  seven  brothers,  in  pursuance  of  their  plan,  met  in  the  hall 
of  state  in  their  deceased  father's  mansion,  and  there  drew  lots,  or 
threw  dice,  for  reports  differ  on  this  point,  as  to  who  should  live 
on  in  single  blessedness,  wearing  bachelor's  buttons  for  ever,  and 
which  should  gain  the  prize,  not  of  a  wife,  but  of  permission  to  find 
one. 

They  must  have  formed  a  pictorial,  and  probably  an  excited 
group, — those  brothers  all  risking  cold  celibacy  that  one  might 
keep  warm  tlie  dignified  vitality  of  the  race.  Had  the  gods  been 
proj)itious,  the  lot  would  surely  have  fallen  upon  one  who  already 
wore  a  lady  in  his  heart ;  and  there  undoubtedly  was  such  a  one 
among  them  whose  own  heart  doubtless  beat  quickly  when  "  dou- 
ble sixes"  were  thrown  by  the  brother  who  had  but  an  indifferent 
heart  of  his  own,  and  who  had  yet  to  seek  to  establish  an  interest 
in  that  of  some  lady. 

The  lucky  prince  was  George,  the  sixth  son,  and  he  experienced 
little  difficulty  in  finding  a  princess  willing  to  be  the  mother  of  a 
new  race^f  Brunswick  princes.  The  lady,  cavalierly  wooed  and 
ready  to  be  won,  was  Anne  Eleanore,  daughter  of  the  Landgraf 
of  Hesse-Darmstadt. 

The  brothers  are  said  to  have  so  religiously  observed  their  com- 
pact, that  when  the  stoiy  w^as  told  to  the  sultan,  Achmet  L,  that 
potentate,  who  belonged  to  a  race  which  knows  notliing  of  frater- 
nal affection  when  the  latter  stands  in  the  way  of  interest,  clapped 
his  hands  with  suq>ri>e,  solemnly  declared  that  God  was  great — 
by  way  of  inapplicable  comment  ui)on  the  legend  of  the  seven 
brothers — and  swore  that  it  would  be  worth  while  to  go  on  foot 
from  Byzantium  to  Brunswick  only  to  look  at  them ! 

The  heir-apparent  of  this  marriage  was  Frederick  Ernest  Au- 
gustus, who,  in  1658,  married  Sophia,  the  daughter  of  Frederick 
and  Elizabeth,  the  short-lived  King  and  Queen  of  Bohemia ;  the 
latter  the  daughter  of  James  I.  The  eldest  cliild  of  this  marriaore 
was  George  Loui??;  who  ultimately  became  King  of  Great  Britain, 

and  who  was  then  discovered,  as  I  have  said,  to  Ije  a  descendant 

1* 


/ 


10 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


SOPHIA   DOROTHEA. 


11 


of  Woden.  He  at  least  espoused  a  lady  who,  by  the  mother's 
side,  was  less  heroically,  yet  not  less  honorably,  descended. 

When  Louis  XIV.  revoked  the  Edict  of  Nantes,  the  Roman 
Catholic  religion  in  France  achieved  neither  a  less  sanguinary,  nor 
a  less  melancholy,  nor  a  less  vaunted  triumph,  than  it  did  on  the 
bloody  day  of  the  never-to-be-forgotten  St.  Bartholemew.  Those 
who  refused  to  be  converted  were  executed  or  imprisoned.  Some 
found  safety,  with  suffering,  in  exile ;  and  confiscation  made  beg- 
gars of  thousands.  When  towns,  where  the  Protestants  were  in 
the  majority,  exhibited  tardiness  in  coming  over  to  the  king's  way 
of  thinking,  dragoons  were  ordered  thither,  and  this  order  was  of 
such  significance,  that  when  it  was  made  known,  the  population* 
to  escape  massacre,  usually  professed  recantation  of  error  in  a  mass. 
This  daily  accession  of  thousands  who  made  abjuration  under  the 
sword,  and  walked  thence  to  confession  and  reception  of  the  Sacra- 
ment under  an  implied  form  in  which  they  had  no  faith,  was  de- 
scribed to  the  willingly-duped  king  by  the  ultra  bishops  as  a  mir- 
acle as  a«^tounding  as  any  in  Scripture. 

Of  some  few  individuals,  places  at  court  for  themselves,  commis- 
sions for  their  sons,  or  honors  which  sometimes  little  deserved  the 
name,  for  their  daughtei-s,  made,  if  not  converts,  hypocrites.  Far 
greater  was  the  number  of  the  goo<l  and  faithful  servants  who  lefl 
all  and  followed  their  Master.  With  one  especially  I  have  here 
to  do.  His  name  was  Alexander  D'Esmiers,  Marquis  D'Olbreuse, 
a  gallant  Protestant  gentleman  of  Poictiei*s,  who  preferred  exile 
and  loss  of  estate  to  apostacy,  and  who,  when  he  crossed  the  fron- 
tier, a  banished  man,  brought  small  worldly  wealth  with  him,  but 
therewith  one  child,  a  daughter,  who  was  to  him  above  all  wealth ; 
and  to  uphold  his  dignity,  the  memory  of  being  descended  from 
the  gallant  Pulques  D'Esmiers,  the  valiant  and  courteous  Lord 
of  Lolbroire. 

Father  and  daughter  had  the  world  before  them  where  to  choose, 
and  like  unfortunates  who,  ejected  from  home,  still  linger  on  the 
loved  threshold,  they  sojourned  for  a  time  on  the  northern  frontier 
of  the  kingdom,  having  their  native  country  within  sight.  There 
they  tabernacled  in  much  sorrow,  perplexity,  and  poverty,  but 
friends  ultimately  supplied  them  with  funds ;  and  liowever  sad  a 


man  a  French  exile  may  be  when  his  purse  is  empty  and  his  mind 
is  filled  with  gloomy  thoughts,  that  same  mind  speedily  becomes 
serene  when  steadied  by  the  ballast  of  a  heavy  purse. 

The  marquis  was  not  a  Croesus  even  now,  but  he  found  himself 
in  a  condition  to  appear  in  Brussels  without  sacrifice  of  dignity, 
and  into  the  gay  circles  of  that  gay  city  he  led  his  daughter  Elean- 
ora,  who  was  met  by  warm  homage  from  the  gallants,  and  much 
criticism  at  the  hands  of  her  intimate  friends, — the  ladies. 

But  the  sharpest  criticism  could  not  deny  her  beauty,  and  her 
wit  and  accomplishments  won  for  her  the  respect  and  homage  of 
those  whose  allegiance  was  better  worth  having  than  that  of  mere 
pefits  maltres  with  their  stereotyped  flattery.  Eleanora,  like  the 
lady  in  Gothe's  tragedy,  loved  the  society  and  the  good  opinion  of 
wise  men,  while  she  hardly  thought  herself  worthy  of  either ;  and, 
like  Leonora  d'Este,  she  might  have  said : 

Ich  freue  mich  wenn  kliige  Manner  sprechen, 
Dass  ich  verstehen  kann  wie  sie  es  meinen. 

It  is  not  to  be  forgotten,  however,  that  Eleanora  was  a  French- 
woman, and  consequently  for  being  attached  to  the  wise  she  was 
not  out  of  love  with  gaiety.  She  was  the  fairest  and  the  liveliest 
in  the  train  of  the  brilliant  Duchess  of  Tarento,  and  she  was  fol- 
lowing and  eclipsing  her  noble  patroness  at  a  ball,  when  she  was 
first  seen  by  a  prince  who  hoJ  travelled  a  little,  and  now  suddenly 
felt  that  he  loved  much.  This  prince  was  George  William,  second 
son  of  George,  Duke  of  Brunswick-Lunebourg,  and  heir  to  the 
pocket,  but  sovereign  dukedom  of  Zell. 

The  heir  of  Zell  became,  what  he  had  never  been  before,  an 
honest  wooer.  It  is  said  that  he  did  not  become  so  without  a  strug- 
gle ;  but  the  truth  is  that  his  heart  was  for  the  first  time  seriousfy 
inclined,  and  he,  whose  gallantry  had  been  hitherto  remarkable  for 
its  dragooning  tone,  was  now  more  subdued  tlian  Cymon  in  the 
subduing  presence  of  Iphigenia.  He  had  hated  conversation,  be- 
cause he  was  incapable  of  sustaining  it,  but  now  love  made  him 
eloquent.  He  had  abhorred  study,  and  knew  little  of  any  other 
language  than  his  own,  but  now  he  took  ^p  French  vocabularies 
and  dictionaries,  and  long  before  he  had  got  so  far  as  to  ask  Elean- 


12 


LIVES  OF  THK   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


ora  to  hear  him  conjugate  the  verb  aimer,  "  to  love,"  he  applied  to 
her  to  interpret  the  ditFicult  passages  he  met  with  in  books,  and 
throughout  long  summer  days  the  graceful  pair  might  have  been 
seen  sitting  together,  book  in  hand,  interesting  and  interested,  fully 
as  happy  and  twice  as  hopeful  as  that  other  celebrated  and  en- 
amored pair,  Paolo  and  Francesca, 

With  this  young  couple,  love's  course  ran  as  little  smoothly, 
after  a  time,  as  it  is  said  to  do  proverbially.  George  William 
soon  saw  that  something  more  of  sterling  homage  was  expected 
from  him  than  his  becoming  the  mere  pupil  of  a  noble  but  dower- 
less  maiden  from  France,  and  the  heir  to  a  duodecimo  ducal  coro- 
net was  sorely  puzzled  as  to  his  proceedings.  To  marriage  he 
could  have  condescended  with  alacrity,  but  unfortunately  there 
was  "  a  promise  in  bar."  With  the  view  common  to  many  co-heirs 
of  the  family,  he  had  entered  into  an  engagement  with  his  brother 
Ernest  Augustus,  heir  of  the  chief  of  the  house  of  Brunswick,  and 
Bishop  of  Osnaburgh,  never  to  marry.  This  concession  had  been 
purchased  at  a  certain  cost,  and  the  end  in  view  was  the  further 
enlargement  of  the  dominions  and  influence  of  the  House  of  Bruns- 
wick. If  George  William  should  not  only  succeed  to  Zell,  but 
should  leave  the  same  to  a  legitimate  heir,  that  was  a  case  which 
Ernest  Augustus  would  be  disjwsed  to  look  upon  as  one  inflicting 
on  him  and  his  projects  a  grievous  wrong.  A  price  was  paid  there- 
fore for  the  promised  celibacy  of  his  brother,  and  that  brother  was 
now  actively  engaged  in  meditating  as  to  how  he  might,  without 
disgrace,  break  a  promise  and  yet  retain  the  money  by  which  it 
had  been  purchased.  His  heart  leaped  within  him  as  he  thought 
how  easily  the  whole  matter  might  be  arranged  by  a  morgjuiatic 
(or  a  diminished,  as  that  Gothic  word  implies)  marriage.  A  mar- 
riage, in  other  words,  with  the  left  hand ;  an  union  sanctioned  by 
the  church  but  so  far  disallowed  by  the  law  that  the  children  ot 
such  wedlock  were,  in  techuiciU  terms,  infantes  nuUiits,  "  children 
of  nobody,"  and  could,  of  course,  succeed  to  nobody's  inheritance. 

George  William  waited  on  the  Marquis  d*01breuse  with  his 
morganatic  offer,  the  poor  refugee  noble  entertained  the  terms  with 
much  complacency,  bu^left  his  child  to  determine  on  a  point  which 
involved  such  serious  considerations  for  herself.     They  were  ac- 


SOPHIA   DOROTHEA. 


13 


cordingly  placed  with  much  respect  at  Eleanora's  feet,  but  she 
musing  rather  angrily  thereon,  used  them  as  Alnaschzar  did  his 
basket  of  glass,  she  became  angry  and  by  an  impetuous  movement, 
shivered  them  into  fragments.     She  would  not  listen  to  the  offer. 

In  the  meantime,  these  love-passages  of  young  George  William 
were  productive  of  much  unseemly  mirth  at  Hanover,  where  the 
Bishop  of  Osnaburgh  w^as  keeping  a  not  very  decorous  court.  He 
was  much  more  of  a  dragoon  than  a  bishop,  and  indeed  his  flock 
were  more  to  be  pitied  than  his  soldiers.  The  diocese  of  Osna- 
burgh was  supplied  with  bishops  by  the  most  curious  of  rules  ;  the 
rule  wa^  fixed  at  the  period  of  the  peace  which  followed  the  reli- 
gious wars  of  Germany,  and  this  rule  was  that  as  Osnaburgh  was 
very  nearly  divided  as  to  the  number  of  those  who  followed  either 
church,  it  should  have  alternately  a  Protestant  and  a  Romanist 
bishop.  The  necessary  result  has  been  tliat  Osnaburgh  has  had 
sad  scrapegraces  for  her  prelates,  but  yet,  in  spite  thereof,  has 
maintained  a  religious  respectability  that  might  be  envied  by  dio- 
ceses blessed  with  two  diverse  bishops  at  once,  for  ever  anathema- 
tizing the  flocks  of  each  other  and  their  shepherds. 

The  Protestant  Prince  Bishop  of  Osnaburgh  made  merry  with 
his  ladies  at  the  wooing  of  his  honest  and  single-minded  brother, 
whom  he  wounded  to  the  uttermost  by  scornfully  speaking  of 
Eleanora  d'Olbreuse  as  the  duke's  ''  Madame"  It  was  a  sorry  and 
unmanly  joke,  for  it  lacked  wit,  and  insulted  a  true-hearted  woman. 
But  it  had  the  effect  also  of  arousing  a  true-hearted  man. 

George  William  had  now  succeeded  to  the  little  dukedom  of 
Zell,  not  indeed  without  difficulty,  for  as  the  ducal  chair  had  be- 
come vacant  while  the  next  heir  was  absent,  paying  homage  at 
Brussels  to  a  lady  rather  than  receiving  it  from  liis  lieges  in  Zell, 
his  younger  brother,  John  Frederick,  had  played  his  lord-suzeraine 
a  scurvy  trick,  by  seating  himself  in  that  chair,  and  fixing  the  du- 
cal parcel-gilt  coronet  on  his  owti  brows,  with  a  comic  sort  of  "  gare 
qui  le  touche !"  levelled  at  all  assailants  generally,  and  the  right- 
ful and  fraternal  ownfer  particularly. 

George  William  having  toppled  down  the  usurper  from  his  ill- 
earned  elevation,  and  having  bought  off  further  treason  by  pension- 
ing the  traitor,  returned  to  Brussels  with  a  renewal  of  his  former 


14 


LIVES  OF   THE   QUEENS  OF   ENGLAND. 


SOPHIA   DOROTHEA. 


15 


offer.  He  added  weight  thereto  by  the  intimation,  that  if  a  mor- 
ganatic marriage  were  consented  to  now,  he  had  hopes,  by  the 
favor  of  the  emperor,  to  consolidate  it  at  a  subsequent  period  by  a 
legal  public  union,  whereat  Eleanora  dOlbreuse  should  be  recog- 
nized Sovereign  Duchess  of  Zell,  without  chance  of  that  proud  title 
ever  being  disputed. 

Thereupon  a  family  council  was  holden.  The  poor  marquis 
argued  as  a  father,  of  his  age,  and  few  hopes,  might  be  pardoned 
for  arguing ; — he  thought  a  morganatic  marriage  might  be  entered 
upon  without  "  derogation"  being  laid  to  the  account  of  the  de- 
scendants of  Fulques  D'Esmiers  ;  au  reste,  he  left  all  to  his  daugh- 
ter's love,  fihal  and  otherwise.  Eleanora  did  not  disappoint  either 
sire  or  suitor  by  her  decision.  She  made  the  first  happy  by  her 
obedience,  her  lover  by  her  gentle  concession ;  and  she  espoused 
the  ardent  duke  with  the  left  hand,  because  her  father  advised  it, 
her  lover  urged  it,  and  the  council  and  the  suit  were  agreeable  to 
the  lady,  who  professed  to  be  influenced  by  them  to  do  that  for 
which  her  own  heart  was  guide  and  warrant. 

The  marriage  was  solemnized  in  the  month  of  September,  IG60, 
the  bride  was  then  in  the  26th  year  of  her  age.  AVitli  her  new 
position,  she  assumed  the  name  and  style  of  Lady  Von  Ilarburg, 
from  an  estate  of  the  duke's  so  called,  and  probably  the  last  thin 
she  thought  of  among  the  dreams  conjured  up  by  the  new  impres 
sions  to  which  she  was  now  subject,  was  that  the* Lady  of  Harburg, 
a  poor  exile  from  France  for  the  sake  of  conscience  and  religion, 
should  be  the  mother  of  a  Queen  of  England  whom  England  should 
never  see,  or  the  ancestress  of  one  who  is  more  honored  for  her 
descent  from  the  godly  D'Esmires  of  Poitou  than  if  she  could  be 
proved  to  be  a  daughter,  far  of!^  indeed,  and  in  unbroken  line,  of 
the  deified  and  heathenish  savage  Woden  of  WalhaUa. 

The  Bishop  of  Osnaburgh  was  merrier  than  ever  at  what  he 
styled  the  mock  marriage,  and  more  unmanly  than  ever  in  the 
coarse  jokes  he  flung  at  the  Lady  of  Ilarburg.  But  even  this  mar- 
riage, maimed  as  it  was,  not  in  rite,  but  in  l^gal  sanction,  was  not 
concluded  without  fresh  concessions  made  by  th..  duke  to  the  bishop, 
m  order  to  secure  to  the  latter  an  undivided  inheritance  of  Bruns- 
wick, Hanover  and  ZeU.     His  mirth  was  founded  on  the  idea  that 


o 


he  had  provided  for  himself  and  his  heirs,  and  left  the  children  of 
his  brother,  should  any  be  born,  and  these  survive  him,  to  nourish 
their  left-handed  dignity  on  the  smallest  possible  means.  The  first 
heiress  to  such  dignity,  and  to  much  heart-crushing  and  undeserved 
sorrow,  soon  appeared  to  gladden  for  a  brief  season,  to  sadden  for 
long  and  weary  years,  the  hearts  of  her  parents.  Sophia  Dorothea 
was  bom  on  the  loth  September,  1666.  Her  names  imply,  "Wis- 
dom the  gift  of  God ;"  and  if  she  had  not  possessed  in  after  life 
that  wisdom,  whose  commencement  is  established  in  the  fear  of 
God,  her  fate  would  have  been  as  insupix)rtable  as  it  was  unde- 
served. 

Her  birth  was  hailed  with  more  than  ordinary  joy  in  the  little 
court  of  her  parents ;  at  that  of  the  bishop  it  was  productive  of 
some  mirth  and  a  few  bad  epigrams.  The  bishop  had  taken  prov- 
ident care  that  neither  heir  nor  heiress  should  affect  his  succession 
to  what  should  have  been  their  own  inheritance,  and  simply  look- 
ing upon  Sophia  Dorothea  as  a  child  whose  existence  did  not  men- 
ace a  diminution  of  the  prospective  greatness  of  his  house,  he  toler- 
ated the  same  with  an  ineffably  gracious  condescension. 


CHAPTER  IL 


WIVES    AND    FAVORITES. 


I  THINK  it  is  the  remark  of  Madame  de  Stiiel, — a  lady,  by  the 
way,  whom  the  Messrs.  Goncourt  in  their  one-sidi?d  history  of 
French  society,  have  described  as  having  "  the  face  of  a  lion  ;  pur- 
ple, pimpled,  and  dry-lipped,  rude  m  body  as  in  ideas,  masculine  in 
gesture,  uttering  in  the  voice  of  a  boy  her  vigorous  and  swelling 
phraseology" — nothing  of  which  would  be  believed  by  those  who 
have  seen  her  only  in  Girard's  picture,  holding  in  her  hand  that 
little  branch  without  which  she  knew  not  how  to  be  eloquent ; — it 
is,  I  repeat,  the  remark  of  Madame  de  Stael,  that  society,  and  per- 
haps even  Providence,  vouchsafes  but  a  single  blessing  to  women 
— the  being  loved  after  mamage.     Whether  this  be  true  or  not, 


16 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


SOPHIA   DOKOTHEA. 


17 


the  blessing  here  named  appears  io  have  been  the  undisputed  pos- 
session of  the  Lady  of  Harburg. 

Such  a  household  as  that  maintained  in  sober  happiness  and 
freedom  from  anxiety  by  herself  and  the  duke  was  a  rare  sight,  if 
not  in  Genuany  at  least  in  German  courts.  The  duke  was  broadly 
ridiculed  because  of  his  faithful  affection  for  one  who  was  worthy 
of  all  the  truth  and  esteem  wliich  a  true-hearted  wife  could  claim- 
He  could  well  afford  to  allow  the  unprincipled  to  ridicule  what  they 
could  not  reahze ;  and  he  held,  with  more  honesty  than  ever  dis- 
tinguished knight  in  chivalrous  times,  that  if  it  were  disgraceful  to 
commit  a  breach  of  faith  even  in  gaming,  it  was  doubly  so  to  be 
guilty  of  such  treachery  in  marriage. 

It  may  well  be  imagined  how  hilariously  this  sentiment  was 
contemplated  by  the  princes  of  Germany,  who  aped  Louis  XIV. 
only  in  his  vices  and  his  arrogance,  and  who,  while  professing  to 
be  as  wise  as  Solomon,  followed  the  example  of  that  monarch  only 
in  the  matter  of  concubines. 

The  only  fault  that  was  ever  brought  by  the  bitterest  of  the  en- 
emies of  the  wife  of  the  Duke  of  Zell  against  that  unexceptionable 
ladv  was,  that  she  was  over-fond  of  nominatinj'  natives  of  France 
to  little  places  in  her  husband's  little  court.  Considering  that  the 
Germans,  who  looked  upon  her  as  an  intruder,  would  not  recognize 
her  as  having  become  naturalized  by  marriage,  it  is  hardly  to  be 
wondered  at  that  she  gathered  as  much  of  France  around  her  as 
she  could  assemble  in  another  land.  This  done,  her  husband  ap- 
proving, and  her  child  creating  for  her  a  new  world  of  emotions 
and  delights,  she  let  those  who  envied  her  rail  on,  having  neither 
time  nor  inclyiation  to  heed  them. 

But  the  sunshine  was  not  all  unclouded.  Three  other  children 
were  the  fruit  of  this  marriage,  whose  early  deaths  were  deplored 
as  so  many  calamities.  Their  mother  lived  long  enough  to  deplore 
that  Sophia  Dorothea  had  survived  them.  This  wjis  the  real  sor- 
row of  the  mother's  life ;  and  stupendous  indeed  must  be  the  ma- 
ternal affliction  which  is  based  upon  the  fact  that  a  beloved  and 
only  child  does  not  lie  coffined  at  her  parents'  feet. 

The  merits  of  the  mother  won,  as  they  deserved  to  do,  increase 
of  esteem  and  affection  on  the  part  of  the  duke.    His  most  natural 


wish  was  to  raise  her  to  a  rank  equal  to  his  own,  as  far  as  a  mere 
name  could  make  assertion  of  such  equality.  This,  however,  could 
not  be  effected  but  gradually  and  with  a  world  of  trouble,  delay, 
disappointment,  petitioning,  and  expense.  It  was  thought  a  won- 
derful act  of  condescension  on  the  part  of  the  emperor,  that  he  gave 
his  unperial  sanction  to  the  elevation  of  the  Lady  of  Harburg  to 
the  rank  and  title  of  Countess  of  AVilhelmsburg. 

The  Bishop  of  Osnaburgh  was  harder  to  treat  with  than  the 
emperor.  He  bound  down  his  brother  by  stringent  engagements, 
solemnly  engrossed  in  lengthy  phrases,  guarding  against  all  mis- 
take by  horribly  technical  tautology,  to  agree  that  the  encircling 
his  wife  with  the  coronet  of  a  countess  bestowed  upon  her  no  legal 
rights,  and  conferred  no  shadow  of  legitimacy,  in  the  eye  of  the 
law,  on  the  children  of  the  marriage,  actual  or  prospective.  For 
such  children,  modest  yet  sufficient  provision  was  secured;  but 
they  were  never  to  dream  of  claiming  cousinship  with  the  alleged 
better-bom  descendants  of  Henry  the  Dog,  or  Magnus  the  Irascible. 

George  William  and  Eleanora  mildly  acquiesced,  and  the  Bishop 
of  Osnaburgh  tunied  the  key  of  his  family  muniment  chest,  with 
the  comfortable  feeling  of  a  man  who  has  fenced  liis  dignity  and 
prospects  with  a  safeguard  that  could  not  possibly  be  violated. 
George  William  looked  at  his  wife  with  a  smile,  and  uttered,  in 
something  of  the  fashion  of  the  prophetic  persons  in  Shakespeare^s 
tragedy, — **  Hail,  Countess  of  Wilhelmsburg,  Duchess  of  Zell, 
hereafter ! " 

I,  of  course,  do  not  mean  to  imply  that  this  was  more  than  men- 
tally uttered.  That  the  idea  possessed  the  duke,  and  that  he  acted 
upon  it  quite  as  much  as  if  he  had  given  it  expression,  and  bound 
himself  by  its  utterance,  is  clearly  distinguishable  by  his  subse- 
quent action.  He  was  resolved  not  to  rest  until  his  wife  should 
also  be  his  duchess.  A  "star-chamber  matter"  has  been  made  of 
many  a  simpler  thing,  but  a  smile  is  allowable  when  we  read  of 
the  fact  that  the  Estates  of  Germany  gravely  discussed  the  subject 
as  to  whether  a  worthy  wife  should  be  permitted  to  wear  the  title 
which  was  commonly  worn  by  her  husband.  This  had  once  before 
been  permitted  to  a  single  lady,  who  had  given  her  hand,  or,  to 
speak  more  m  the  spirit  of  Brunswick  court  lawyers,  whose  hand 


18  LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS   OF  ENGLAND. 

had  been  graciously  taken  by  a  Brunswick  duke.  In  the  case, 
furnishing  a  precedent,  the  lady  in  question  was  at  least  a  native 
of  the  duchy ;  but  in  the  present  case  a  great  dithcuhy  presented 
itself,  the  lady  was  a  foreigner  with  nothing  ennobling  her  but  her 
virtues.  The  Estates  thought  long,  and  adjourned  often  ere  they 
came  to  a  tardy  and  reluctant  conclusion,  by  which  the  boon  sought 
was  at  length  conceded.  When  the  emperor  added  his  consent, 
there  was  many  a  princess  in  the  various  German  courts  who  be- 
came trembHngly  sensible  that  Teutonic  greatness  had  been  shat- 
tered for  ever. 

The  concession  made  by  the  Estates,  and  the  sanction  super- 
added by  the  emperor,  were,  however,  only  obtained  upon  the 
military  bishop  withholding  all  opposition.  The  princely  prelate 
was,  in  fact,  bought  otf.  Again  his  muniment -box  was  unlocked ; 
once  more  he  and  his  staif  of  lawyers  were  deep  in  parchments, 
and  curious  in  the  geography  of  territorial  maps  and  plans.  The 
result  of  much  dry  labor  and  heavy  speculation  wjis  an  agreement 
entered  into  by  the  two  brothers.  The  Duke  of  Zell  contracted 
that  the  children  of  his  marriage,  with  the  daughter  of  the  Poitevin 
marquis,  should  mherit  only  his  private  property,  and  the  empty 
title  of  Counts,  or  Countesses,  of  Wilhelmsburg.  The  territory  of 
Zell  with  other  estates  added  to  the  sovereign  dukedom  were  to 
pass  to  the  prince-bishop  or  his  heirs.  On  these  terms  Eleanora 
of  Olbreuse,  Lady  of  Harburg,  and  Countess  of  Wilhelmsburg, 
became  Duchess  of  Zell. 

'*  Ah ! "  exclaimed  the  very  apostoUc  bishop  to  the  dissolute  dis- 
ciples at  his  court,  on  the  night  that  the  family  compact  was  made 
an  accomplished  fact,  "  my  brother's  French  Madame^  is  not  a  jot 
the  more  his  wife,  for  being  duchess," — which  was  true,  for  mar- 
ried is  married,  and  there  is  no  companitive  degree  of  intensity 
which  can  be  applied  to  the  circumstance.  "  But  she  has  a  dignity 
the  more,  and  therewith  may  Madame  rest  content," — which  was 
not  tnie,  for  no  new  title  could  add  dignity  to  a  woman  like  the 
wife  of  Duke  George  William.  As  to  being  content,  she  knew 
not  what  it  was  to  lack  content  until  after  the  period  when  Bruns- 
wick greeted  her  by  an  empty  name. 

As  yet,  however,  all  went, — if  I  may  employ  a  simile  much 


SOPHIA  DOROTHEA. 


19 


cracked  by  wear, — all  went  as  merry  as  a  marriage  bell ; — save 
when  the  knell  tolled  for  the  three  happy  children  who  were  sum- 
moned early  to  occupy  graves  over  which  their  mistaken  parents 
long  and  deeply  mourned.  Sophia  Dorothea  was  the  sole  daugh- 
ter then  of  their  house,  if  not  of  their  hearts,  and  she  was  a  "  thing 
of  beauty,"  beloved  by  all,  because  of  her  worth,  and  flattered  by 
none,  because  she  was  nobody's  heiress. 

Of  the  personal  history  of  her  youth,  the  most  salient  circum- 
stance is,  that  when  she  was  yet  but  seven  years  old,  she  had  for  an 
occasional  playfellow  in  the  galleries  and  gardens  of  Zell  and  Calen- 
berg,  a  handsome  lad,  Swedish  by  birth,  but  Geraian  by  descent, 
whose  name  was  Philip  Christopher  von  Konigsmark.  He  was  in 
Zell  for  the  purpose  of  education,  and  many  of  his  vacation  hours 
were  spent  with  the  child  of  George  Wilham,  who  was  his  father's 
friend.  When  gossips  saw  the  two  handsome  cliildren,  buoyant 
of  spirit,  beaming  with  health,  and  ignorant  of  care,  playing  hand 
in  hand  at  sports  natural  to  their  age,  those  gossips  prophesied  "  in 
bated  breath,"  of  future  marriage.  They  could  foretell  "  circum- 
stance," like  our  laureate,  and  prattle  in  reference  to  these  happy 
children,  of 

*'  Two  lovers  whisp'ring  by  an  orchard  wall. 
Two  lives  bound  fast  in  one  with  golden  ease : 
Two  graves  grass-green  beside  a  gray  church  tower, 
Wash'd  with  still  rains  and  daisy-blossomed  ;" — 

but  their  "  circumstance "  was  as  aerial  as  that  of  the  poet,  and 
they  could  not  foresee  the  dark  reality,— one  child  in  a  dungeon, 
the  other  in  a  bloody  grave. 

Indeed  their  speculation  in  this  direction  had  soon  no  food 
whereon  to  live,  for  the  young  Konigsmark  was  speedily  with- 
drawn from  Zell,  and  Sophia  bloomed  on  alone,  or  with  other  com- 
panions, good,  graceful,  fair,  accomplished,  and  supremely  happy. 

But  even  daughter  as  she  was  of  a  left-handed  marriage,  there 
was  hanging  to  her  name  a  dower  sufficiently  costly  to  dazzle  and 
allure  even  princely  suitors.  To  one  of  these  she  was  betrothed 
before  she  was  ten  years  old.  The  suitor  was  a  soldier  and  a 
prince,  and  although  not  as  much  older  than  his  little  lady,  than 
Richard  II.  was  when  at  the  age  of  nine  and  twenty,  he  espoused 


20  LIVKS  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAN'D. 

the  French  Princess  Isabella  of  Valois,  with  no  more  years  upon 
her  sunny  brow  than  nine,-a  child  whom  he  iparried  politically, 
loved  paternally,  and  was  beloved  by  filially,  as  he  well  merited  ;— 
although  the  disparity  was  not  so  great,  it  was  enough  to  bar  any- 
thing  beyond  betrothment. 

The  princely  lover  in  question  was  the  cousin  of  the  quasi 
princely  lady,  Augustus  Frederick,  Crown-Prince  of  Brunswick- 
Wolfenbuttel.  This  crown  prince  was  allured  by  the  "beaux 
yeux  de  la  casette"  of  the  little  heu-ess.  If  Mr.  Justice  Alder- 
son  takes  license  to  make  puns  when  the  court  is  dull  and  cases 
heavy,  it  may  be  pardoned  a  poor  chronicler,  if  he  marks  down  in 
his  record,  that  the  Crown  Prince  of  Brunswick-Wolfenbuttel  was 
mightily  moved  by  the  crowns  sets  down  as  the  dower  that  was 
to  go  with  the  hand  of  the  Duke's  daughter.  These  were  little 
better  than  half-crowns  after  all,— thalers  worth  about  three 
shillings  each,  and  of  them  one  hundred  thousand.  The  lover  pos- 
sibly exclaimed  as  Boileau's  celebrated  gentleman  did— 

EUe  a  cent  mille  vertus  en  louis  bien  comptees. 

But  for  louis  here  were  only  thalers;  and  a  hundred  thousand 
thalers  is  at  the  most  but  fifteen  thousand  pounds  sterling,  and 
that  was  but  an  humble  dower  for  a  Duke's  only  daughter.  In 
the  country,  where  merchants  are  "  princes,"  sires  give  as  much 
to  each  of  a  whole  circle  of  daughters  ;  but  George  William  was 
only  Duke  of  Zell. 

In  the  meantime,  the  affianced  lover  had  to  prove  himself,  by 
force  of  arms,  worthy  of  his  lady  and  her  fortune.  The  latter,  at 
least,  was  hardly  worth  the  risk  he  ran  to  show  himself  deserving, 
and  which  deprived  him  of  that  in  honor  of  which  he  put  himself 
in  peril.  At  the  time  of  which  I  am  speaking  there  was  as  much 
murderous  bad  ambition  abroad  in  the  world  as  there  now  is 
heaping  a  mountain  of  responsibility  for  murder  upon  the  head  of 
the  late  Czar  Nicholas.  One  of  the  consequences  thereof  was  the 
noted  siege  of  Pliilipsburg,  in  the  year  1G76.  Thither  repaired 
the  chivalrous  Augustus  of  Brunswick-Wolfenbuttel.  He  went 
to  the  bloody  work  proudly,  plume  in  helm,  scarf  on  breast,  and 
all  the  insignia  of  greatness  about  him.     There  was  nothing  in  his 


SOPHIA  DOROTHEA. 


21 


nature  of  that  humility,  so  selfish  in  aspect,  which  distinguishes 
Russian  officers  going  into  action, — gallant  leaders,  who  deck 
themselves  in  the  great  coats  of  private  soldiers,  m  order  to  avoid 
mortal  honor  from  those  opponents  who  seek  to  cross  swords  with 
men  supposed  to  be  worthy  of  their  steel.  This  novel  phasis  of 
strategy,  of  Russian  introduction,  was  not  yet  known  in  the  days 
of  Augustus  of  Brunswick-Wolfenbuttel.  He  was  accordingly  con- 
tent to  take  his  chance  honestly  and  valiantly,  and  he  bore  himself 
with  a  dignity  and  daring  that  entitled  him  to  respect.  With 
regret  it  must  be  added,  that  the  fortune  of  war  deprived  him  of 
that  which  he  hoped  to  reap  whh  the  hand  of  Sophia  Dorothea. 
A  fatal  bullet  slew  him  suddenly ;  a  brief  notice  in  a  despatch  was 
his  soldierly  requiem,  and  when  the  affianced  child-bride  was 
solemnly  informed  by  circumstance  of  Hof-Marshal  that  her  lord 
was  slain  and  her  heart  was  free,  she  was  too  young  to  be  sorry, 
and  too  unconscious  to  be  glad.  But  glad  she  would  not  have 
been,  had  she  known  that  by  the  slaying  of  one  lover  at  Philips- 
Ijurg  she  was  ultimately  to  gain  another,  the  gain  of  whom  would 
prove  a  bitter  loss. 

Meanwhile,  the  two  courts  of  the  Bishop  of  Osnaburgh  and  the 
Duke  of  Zell,  continued  to  present  a  striking  contrast.  At  the 
latter,  harmony  and  respectability  reigned  in  common.  At  that 
of  the  .  Bishop  there  was  little  of  either,  even  the  ostentatious 
patronage  bestowed  on  literature  was  not  respectable,  because  it 
was  ostentatious.  It  was,  however,  the  best  feature  of  w)iich  the 
Court  had  to  boast. 

The  Bishop  was  one  of  those  men  who  think  themselves  no- 
thing unless  they  are  imitating  some  greater  man,  not  in  his 
virtues  but  his  vices.  There  was  one  man  in  Europe  whom 
Ernest  Augustus  described  as  a  "  paragon,"  and  that  distinguished 
personage  was  Louis  XIV.  The  vices,  extravagance,  the  pom- 
posity of  the  great  king,  were  the  dear  delights  of  the  little  prince. 
As  Louis  neglected  his  wife,  so  Ernest  Augustus  disregarded  his. 
Fortunately,  Sophia,  the  wife  of  the  latter,  had  resources  in  her 
mind,  which  made  her  consider  with  exemplary  indifference  the 
faithlessness  of  her  lord.  Assuredly,  his,  like  Israel's  incense,  was 
too  often  cast  upon  unworthy  shrines,  and  the   goddesses  who 


22 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


SOPHIA  DOROTHEA. 


23 


received  it  were  in  every  respect  unworthy  of  the  homage.  Every 
prince  is  not  a  Pericles,  and  if  lie  were,  he  would  find  that  every 
Lais,  for  being  the  favorite  of  a  prince,  is  not  necessarily  as  intel- 
lectually gifted  as  the  extravagant  and  accomplished  lady  of  old. 

And  yet,  as  far  as  regards  a  particular  sort  of  extravagance  and 
accomplishment,  perhaps  few  ladies  could  have  surpassed  those 
known  at  Hanover  as  Catherine  and  Elizabeth  von  Meissenjren. 
Introduced  to  a  court  of  ill-dressed  ladies,  they  set  the  fashion  of 
a  witchery  of  costume,  remarkable  for  its  taste,  and  sometimes  for 
outraging  it.  Had  they  come  straight  from  the  euphuistic  and 
gallantly  attired  circle  of  the  Hotel  de  Rambouillet,  they  could  not 
have  been  nicer  of  phrase  nor  more  resplendent  of  garb.  They 
possessed,  too,  the  great  talent  of  Madame  de  Sillery  Genlis,  and 
where  inimitable  in  their  ability  and  success  in  getting  up  little 
fetes,  at  home  or  abroad,  in  the  salon,  or  al  fresco — formal  and 
full-dressed,  or  rustic  and  easy — where  major-generals  were  cos- 
tumed as  agricultural  swains,  and  ladies  of  honor  as  nymphs  or 
dairy-maids,  with  costumes  rural  of  fashioning,  but  as  resplendent 
and  costly  as  silkmau  and  jeweller  could  make  them. 

These  young  ladies  came  to  Court  precisely  as  knights  used  to 
do  of  old,— to  push  their  fortunes, — bnt  not  exactly  after  a 
knightly  fashion.  They  hoped  in  some  way  to  serve  the  sovereign; 
or,  failing  him,  to  be  agreeable  to  the  Crown  Prince  George 
Louis,  (after^vards  George  I.  of  England).  But  even  the  Crown 
Prince,  a  little  and  not  an  attractive  jierson,  to  sav  nothing  of  the 
Bishop,  seemed  for  a  time  a  flight  above  them.  They  could  wait 
a  new  opportunity;  for  as  for  defeat  in  their  aspirations,  they 
would  not  think  of  it.  They  had  the  immense  power  of  those 
persons  who  are  possessed  by  one  single  idea,  and  who  are  under 
irresistible  compulsion  to  carry  it  out  to  reality.  They  could  not 
reach  the  Prince  Bishop  or  his  heir,  and  accordingly  they  directed 
the  full  force  of  their  enchantments  at  two  very  unromantic-look- 
mg  personages,  the  private  tutors  of  the  young  princes  of  Han- 
over. They  were  soon  mighty  at  Greek  particles,  learned  in  the 
aonsts,  fluent  on  the  digamma,  and  famdiar  with  the  mysteries  of 
the  differential  calculus. 

Catherine  and  Elizabeth  von  Meissingen  opened  a  new  gram- 


mar before  their  learned  pundits,  the  Hemn  Busche  and  Platen ; 
and  truth  to  tell,  the  philosophers  were  nothing  loth  to  pursue  the 
new  study  taught  by  such  professors.  When  this  educational 
course  liad  come  to  a  close,  the  public  recognized  at  once  its  aim, 
quality  and  effects,  by  learning  that  the  sage  preceptors  had 
actually  married  two  of  the  liveliest  and  lightest-footed  of  girls 
that  liad  ever  danced  a  branle  at  the  balls  in  Brunswick.  The 
wives,  on  first  appearing  in  public  after  their  marriage,  looked 
radiant  with  joy.  The  tutors  wore  about  them  an  air  of  con- 
straint, as  if  they  thought  the  world  needed  an  apology,  by  way  of 
explaining  how  two  Elders  had  permitted  themselves  to  be  van- 
quished by  a  brace  of  Susannas.  Their  ideas  w  ere  evidently  con- 
fused, but  they  took  courage  as  people  cheerfully  laughed,  though 
they  may  have  lost  it  again  on  discovering  that  they  had  been 
drawn  into  matrimony  by  two  gracefully-graceless  nymphs,  whose 
sole  object  was  to  use  their  spouses  as  stepping-stones  to  a  higher 
greatness. 

There  must  have  been  many  attendant  advantages  in  connection 
with  such  an  object,  or  the  two  married  philosophers  would  hardly 
have  worn  the  air  of  <iontent  which  they  put  on  as  soon  as  they 
saw  the  aim  of  their  estimable  wives,  and  felt  the  gain  thence 


accruing. 


Elizabeth  von  Meissengen,  the^  wife  of  Platen,  was  the  true 
mistress  of  the  situation.  Platen,  principally  through  her  in- 
trigues, had  been  apix)inted  prime-minister  of  the  sovereign 
Bishop.  The  business  to  be  transacted  by  potentate  and  premier 
could  not  have  been  very  extensive,— but  it  Was  serious  on  one 
I>oint,  seeing  that  that  had  reference  to  the  question  of  the  succes- 
sion of  the  House  of  Brunswick  to  the  throne  of  Great  Britain. 
But  as  this  question  was  not  one  of  a  "much  vexed"  character, 
the  time  passed  by  Platen  with  his  sovereign  master  afforded  him 
ample  leisure  to  talk  of  his  wife,  praise  her  political  abilities,  and 
over-eulogize  her,  as  men  and  women  do  the  consorts  for  whom 
they  have  no  cause  to  bear  an  over-heaped  measure  of  respect. 

The  Prince  Bishop  felt  his  curiosity  excited  to  behold  and  study 
more  neariy  this  phoenix  of  a  woman.  The  curiosity  of  such  a 
sovereign  a  loyal  subject  would,  of  course,  be  eager  to  gratify.     It 


24  LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGI^ND. 

;..,  .Wore,  tUe  ^^^^ZZ^^ 

thus  reached.  ,      husband  had  ad- 

ThP  ladv  lo^t  no  tune  in  justifymg  aU  that  ner  nusuoi 

rounu.uui.v  T,i  .„„      Tint  "  tlftbe  in  Hercules  arms 

.  diplomatic  Madame  von  Platen.     Bu      lleDe  in  i 
is  very  well  in  statuary,  and  "  Dido  wUl.  iEneas    may  be  attract 
We  oTcInva..V.le  the  love  adventures  of  Arthur  and  die  ad ven- 
urous  and  liberal  love  of  Gt.inever  may  amuse  us  jn  l>aUad.,-but 
there  h  a  liM.t  of  reality  that  does  not  daz.le  us  l.ke  the  light  of 
romance     Jull  in  such  illumination  is  reve.Ued  to  us  the  picture 
TbH  OP  Emest  and  Elizabeth  von  Platen.    A  more  shameless 
foupl    nev!^^^^^^  at  the  tribunal  of  judgment;  but  if  they  were 
:  aimed  of  their  own  iniquity,  therein  Kes  no  --J^^ - 
should  detail  it.     Quite  sufficient  will  it  be  to  remark  that  it  had 
i„  reward;  and  if  the  wages  of  sin,  in  tins  ^!-^' ^^''^[^^""^^l 
a  death,  they  were  at  least  quite  as  retributive,  and  not  the  more 

"  mTn  Alcides  submitted  to  take  the  distaff  of  Omphale,  and  lui- 
oomJrninMy  endured  to  be  buffeted  by  her  slipiH>r,  he  on^y  af- 
foSTn  iulstration  of  how  i»wer  may  playfully  -^^k-tsetf  the 
sUve  of  weakness,-there  is  even  something  pretty  in  the  pictur^ 
IHs  strong  man  j-ielding  to  womanly  influence ;  and  the  picture 
only  cease:  to  be  heroic,  without  ceasing  to  be  of  an  amiable  asp^c^ 
Then  the  chief  chanicter  is  poor,  sickly,  Cowper,  winding  up  cotton 

in  rpph  for  ffood  Mrs.  Unwin. 

Bu;  the  obese  Ernest  Augustus  in  the  hands  of  the  youthM 
Ehzabethvon  Platen,  reminds  me  of  nothing  so  ^^^^  j^/J  ^^^^^ 
«  Lion  in  Love,"  deservedly  having  his  claws  dipped  by  the  clever 
object  of  liis  ridiculous  adoration:  the  fate  of  the  lion  wa.  also  tha 
of  the  Bishop.     He  wa^  not,  indeed,  a  man  of  weak  mind,  but  that 


SOPHIA   l;OUOTilEA. 


25 


of  Madame  von  Platen  was  still  stronger.  He  could  rule  his  mm- 
istcr,  but  not  his  minister's  wife ;  and  most  appropriately  might  he 
have  made  paraphrastic  application  of  the  line  in  Othello,  and  have 
declared  his  consciousness  \nth  a  sigh,  that  his  "  general's  wife  was 


now  the  general.'* 


CHAPTER  HL 


TUE    BllUNSWICKER   IN    ENGLAND. 

"While  all  was  loose  and  lively  at  the  court  of  the  Bishop,  there 
was  only  the  daily  routine  of  simple  pleasures  and  duties  to  mark 
tlie  course  of  events  at  the  modest  court  of  the  Duke  of  Zell.  The 
monotony  of  the  latter  locality  was,  however,  agreeably  inten-upted 
by  the  arrival  there  of  his  Serene  Highness  Prince  Augustus  Wil- 
liam of  Wiilfenbuttel.  He  had  just  been  edified  by  what  he  had 
witnessed  during  his  brief  sojourn  in  the  episcopal  circle  of  Osna- 
burgli,  where  he  had  seen  two  ladies  exercising  a  double  influence, 
jMjidame  von  Platen  ruling  her  hu.-band  and  his  master,  while  her 
sister  Caroline  von  Busche  was  equally  obeyed  by  her  consort  and 
his  Highness  George  Louis,  the  Bishop's  son. 

Prince^  Augustus  of  Wolfeiibuttel  was  the  brother  of  that  early 
suitor  of  the  little  Sophia  Dorothea,  who  had  met  a  soldier's  death 
at  the  siege  of  Philipsburg.  He  was,  like  his  brother,  not  as  rich 
in  gold  i)ieces  as  in  good  qualities,  and  was  more  wealthy  in  vir- 
tues tlum  in  acres.  He  was  a  bachelor  prince,  with  a  strong  incli- 
nation to  lay  down  his  bachelorsliip,  at  the  feet  of  a  lady  who  would, 
by  addition  of  her  dowr}',  increase  the  greatness  and  material  com- 
forts of  both.  Not  tliat  Augustus  of  Wolfenbuttel  was  mercenary ; 
he  was  simply  prudent.  A  little  piincely  state  m  Germany  cost  a 
great  deal  to  maintain,  and  when  the  errant  Prince  went  forth  in 
search  of  a  lady  with  a  dower,  his  last  thought  was  to  offer  him- 
self to  one  who  had  no  heart,  or  who  had  no  place  in  his  own.  If 
there  was  some  system,  a  little  method,  and  an  air  of  business 
about  the  passion  and  pnnciple  of  the  puissant  Prince  Augustus, 
something  thereof  must  be  laid  to  the  charge  of  the  times,  and  a 

2 


26 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


little  to  the  princely  matter-of-fact  good  sense :  he  is  a  wise  and  a 
merciful  man,  who,  ere  he  comes  to  conclusions  with  a  lady,  on  the 
chapter  of  matrimony,  first  weighs  prospects,  and  establishes,  as  far 
as  in  him  lies,  a  security  of  sunshine. 

Augustus  of  Wolfenbuttel  had  long  suspected  that  the  sun  of  his 
future  home  was  to  be  found  at  Zell,  and  in  the  person  of  his 
young  cousin  Sophia  Dorothea.  Even  yet  tradition  exists  among 
Bnmswick  maidens  as  to  the  love-passages  of  this  accomplished 
and  handsome  young  couple.  Those  passages  have  been  enlarged 
for  the  purposes  of  romance-writers,  but  divested  of  jtU  exaggera- 
tion, there  remains  enough  to  prove,  as  touching  this  pair,  that  they 
were  well  assorted  both  as  to  mind  and  person ;  that  their  inclina- 
tions were  towards  each  other ;  and  that  they  were  worthy  of  a 
better  fiite  than  that  wliich  fell  upon  the  honest  and  wann  affection 
which  reigned  in  the  hearts  of  both. 

The  love  of  these  cousins  was  not  the  less  ardent  for  the  fiict  of 
its  being  partially  discouraged.  The  Duke  of  Zell  looked  upon 
the  purpose  of  Prince  Augustus  with  an  imfavorable  eye.  He  had 
indeed  nothing  to  object  to  the  suitor's  person,  character,  position, 
or  prospects.  116  did  not  deny  thfit  >Wth  such  a  husband,  his 
daughter  midit  secure  that  which  Monsieur  Necker's  daughter  has 
designated  as  woman's  sole  blessing,  happiness  in  the  married  state; 
but  then  that  suitor  was  the  successor  of  a  dead  brother,  who  had 
been  the  prosecutor  of  a  similar  suit.  The  simple-minded  Duke 
had  an  unfeigned  superstitious  awe  of  the  new  lover ;  and  the  idea 
of  consenting  to  a  match  under  the  circumstances  as  they  presented 
themselves,  seemed  to  him  tantamount  to  a  species  of  sacrilege 
outraging  the  manes  and  memorj'  of  the  defunct  kinsman. 

But  then,  on  the  other  hand,  the  Duke  loved  his  daughter,  and 
the  daughter  assuredly  loved  Augustus  of  AVolfenbuttel ;  and,  added 
thereto,  the  good  Duchess  Eleanora  was  quite  disposed  to  see  the 
cherished  union  accomplished,  and  to  besfbw  her  benediction  upon 
the  well-favored  pair.  Altogether,  there  were  strong  odds  against 
the  opposition  of  a  father,  which  rested  on  no  better  foundation 
than  a  tripod,  if  one  may  so  speak,  of  whim,  doubt,  and  a  fear  of 
ghosts,  lie  was  influenced,  possibly,  by  his  extensive  reading  in 
old  legendai-y  ballad-lore,  metrical  and  melancholy  German  ro- 


SOPUIA    DOROTHEA. 


27 


mances,  the  commonest  incident  in  which  is  the  interruption  of  a 
marriage  ceremony  by  a  spiritual  personage  professing  priority  of 
right. 

It  was  not  without  infinite  trouble  that  the  lovers  and  the  Duch- 
ess succeeded  in  breaking  down  the  opposition  of  the  Duke.  Even 
when  his  reluctant  consent  had  been  given,  he  was  everlastingly- 
bringing  forward  the  subject  of  the  departed  suitors,  until  liis  re- 
marks became  as  wearisome  as  the  verses  of  the  German  author, 
who  wrote  a  poem  of  three  hundred  lines  in  length,  all  about  pigs, 
and  every  word  of  which  began  with  the  letter  P. 

The  opi)osition  to  the  marriage  was  not,  however,  all  sunnounted 
Avhen  the  antagonism  of  the  Duke  had  been  successfuUy  overcome 
A  father  may  be  accounted  for  something  even  in  a  German  duke- 
dom ;  but  a  mistress  may  be  stronger,  and  Madame  von  Platen 
has  the  credit  of  having  carried  out  her  opposition  to  the  match  to 
a  very  successful  issue. 

It  is  assorted  of  this  clever  lady,  that  she  was  the  first  who 
caused  the  Bishop  of  Osnaburgli  thoroughly  to  comprehend  that 
Sophia  Dorothea  would  form  a  verj-  desirable  match  for  his  son 
George  Louis.  The  young  lady  had  lands  settled  on  her  which 
might  as  well  be  added  to  the  territoiy  of  that  electoral  Hanover 
of  which  the  IVince-Bishop  was  soon  to  be  the  head.  Every  acre 
added  to  the  possessions  of  the  chief  of  the  family  would  be  by  so 
much  an  increase  of  dignity,  and  little  sacrifices  were  worth  making 
to  effect  great  and  profitable  results.  The  worthy  pair,  bishop  and 
female  prime  minister,  immediately  proceeded  to  employ  every 
conceivable  engine  whereby  they  might  destroy  the  fortress  of  the 
hopes  of  Sophia  Dorothea  and  Augustus  of  Wolfenbuttel.  They 
cared  for  nothing,  save  that  the  hand  of  the  former  should  be  con- 
ferred upon  the  Bishop's  eldest  son  ;  that  George  who  was  subse- 
quently our  George  I.,  and  who  had  as  little  desire  to  be  matched 
with  his  cousin,  or  his  cousin  with  him,  as  kinsfolk  can  have  who 
cordiallv  detest  each  other. 

George  Louis  wls  not  shaped  for  a  lover.  He  was  not  indeed 
a>  defonned  as  Prince  Riquet  with  the  tuft,  but  neither  was  he 
possessed  of  that  legendary  prince's  wit,  refinement,  and  most  win- 
ning ways.     George  Louis  was  mean  in  person  and  character. 


28 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


Epaminondas  ^vas  little  more  than  a  dwarf,  but  then  he  was  a 
giant  measured  by  the  stature  of  his  worth.     Not  so  this  he.r  of 
great  hopes ;  he  was  the  loixl  of  small  virtues ;  and  his  msignifi- 
cance  of  person  was  insijrnifieant  only  beeause  it  bore  not  about  it 
any  manly  stamp,  or  outward  promise  of  an  inward  merit.    George 
was  brave  indeed ;  to  none  of  the  princes  of  the  House  of  Bruns- 
wick  can  be  denied  the  possession  of  bravery.     In  aU  the  bloody 
and  useless  wars  of  the  period,  he  had  distinguished  himself  by  his 
dauntless  coura-e  and  his  cool  self-possession.     I  have  intimated 
that  he  was  not  heroic,  but  I  may  correct  the  phrase ;  he  really 
looked  heroic  at  the  head  of  Uis  scpiadron,  charging  across  the  bat- 
Ue-lield,  and  carrving  his  sword  and  his  fringed  tuid  feathered  hat 
into  the  very  thickest  of  the  fray,  where  the  thunder  was  loudest, 
and  death  revelled  amid  the  incense  of  villanous  saltpetre.     He 
did  not  fail,  it  may  be  added,  in  one  of  the  characteristics  of  brav- 
ery, humanity  on  the  field.    He  had  no  great  heart  for  the  common 
sufterings,  or  the  mental  angui^h,  of  othei-s  ;  but  for  a  wounded  foe 
he  had  I  thorough  English  respect,  and  he  no  more  dreamed  of  the 
Muscovite  officers'  fashion  of  massacring  the  helpless  wounded 
enemy  than  he  did  of  the  ^lillennium. 

OiU  of  the  field  of  battle  George  Louis  was  an  extremely  ordi- 
nary personage,  except  in  his  vices.  I  le  wa^  coarsely-minded  and 
coarsely-spoken,  and  his  profligacy  was  so  extreme  of  character, — 
it  bore  about  it  so  little  of  what  Lord  Chestei-field  recommended 
when  he  said,  a  man  might  be  gentlemanlike  even  in  his  vices, 
that  even  the  Bishop,  easy  as  he  was  both  as  parent  and  prelate, 
and  rich  as  he  was  himself  in  evil  eximi[)le  to  a  son  who  needed 
no  such  warrant  to  plunge  headlong  into  sin, — even  the  Bi>hop 
felt  uncomfortable  for  a  while.  He  thought,  however,  as  easy 
fathei-s  do  sometimes  think,  that  marriage  would  cure  profligacy. 
When  we  read  in  German  ballads  of  pure  young  girls  being  sacri- 
ficed to  monsters,  the  meaning  probably  is,  that  they  are  given, 
unconsulted  and  unheeded,  to  lords  and  masters  who  are  odious  to 

them. 

George  Louis  was  now  in  his  twenty-second  year.  He  was 
bom  in  16G0,  and  he  luid  recently  acquired  increase  of  importance 
from  the  fact  of  his  sire  liuving  succeeded  to  the  paternal  estates, 


SOPHIA   DOROTHEA. 


29 


grandeur,  and  expectations  of  his  predecessor,  Duke  John  Freder- 
ick. The  latter  was  on  his  way  to  Rome,  in  1679,  a  city  which 
he  much  loved,  holding  in  respect  a  good  portion  of  what  is  taught 
there.  He  was  proceeding  thither  with  a  view  of  a  little  more^of 
pleasure  and  something  therewith  of  instruction,  when  a  sudden 
attack  of  ilhiess  carried  him  off,  and  his  death  excited  as  much 
grief  In  the  Bishop  as  it  possibly  could  in  a  son  who  had  little  rev- 
erence for  his  sire,  and  by  whose  death  he  profited  largely. 

When  tlie  Bishop,  as  a  natural  consequence  of  his  death,  estab- 
lished a  gayer  court  at  H;uiover  than  had  ever  yet  been  seen  there, 
became  sovereign  duke,  made  a  sovereign  duchess  of  his  wife 
Sophui,  of  whom  I  shall  have  to  speak  more  at  large,  in  a  future 
page,  and  raised  George  Louis  to  the  rank  of  a  "Crown  Prince," 
a  title  given  to  many  heirs  who  could  inherit  nothing  but  coro- 
nets,—the  la^t-named  individual  began  to  consider  speculatively  as 
to  what  royal  lady  he  might,  with  greatest  prospect  of  advantage 
to  himself,  make  offer  of  his  hand. 

At  the  time  here  spoken  of,  it  will  be  remembered  that  Charle-s 
IL  was  King  in  England.  The  King's  brother,  James,  Duke  of 
York,  had  a  daughter,  a  certain  "  lady  Anne,"  who  is  better  kno>Mi 
to  us  all  by  her  after-title,  in  which  there  is  undeniable  ti'uth  sea- 
soned by  a  little  flattery,  of  "good  Queen  Anne."  Li  the  year 
1G80,  George  of  Hanover  came  over  to  England  with  matrimonial 
views  respecting  that  young  Princess.  He  had  on  his  way  visited 
"William  of  Orange,  at  the  Hague ;  and  when  that  calculating 
Prince  was  made  the  confidential  depository  of  the  views  of  Georo-e 
Louis  respecting  the  Princess  Anne  of  England,  he  listened  with 
much  complacency,  but  is  suspected  of  having  forthwith  set  on  foot 
the  series  of  intrigues  which,  helped  forward  by  Madame  von  Pla- 
ten, ended  in  the  recall  of  (Jeorge  from  P:ngland,  and  in  his  hap- 
less marriage  with  the  more  hapless  Sophia  Dorothea. 

George  of  Hanover  left  the  Hague  with  the  conviction  that  he 
hjid  a  fi-iend  in  William ;  but  William  was  no  abettor  of  marriages 
with  the  Princess  Anne,  and  least  of  all  could  he  wish  success  to 
the  hereditarj^  prince  of  Hmiover,  whose  union  with  one  of  the 
heiresses  of  the  British  throne  might,  under  certain  contingencies, 
miserably  mai-  his  o\ni  prospect*.     The  case  is  very  succinctly  put 


80 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEEXS  OF  ENGLAND. 


SOrillA   DOROTHEA. 


31 


by  Miss  Strickland,  who  makes  allusion  to  the  subject  of  tlus  vi.it 
and  contemplated  marriage  in  her  life  of  Mary,  the  wife  ot  A\  il- 
liam.     ''If  George  of  Hanover  married  Anne  ot  lork,  luid  the 
Prmcess  of  Orai^'e  died  first,  without  oftspring  (a.s  she  actually 
did),  William  of  Orange  would  have  liad  to  give  way  before  their 
prior  claims  on  the  succession ;  to  prevent  wliich  he  set  at  work  a 
threefold  series  of  intrigues,  in  the  household  of  his  sister-m-law, 
at  the  court  of  Hanover,  and  that  of  Zell."     The  plot  was  as  com- 
plicated as  any  in  a  Spanish  comedy,  and  it  is  as  hard  to  unravel. 
A  history  of  Brunswick,  published  anonymously  soon  after  the 
accession  of  George  I.  to  the  crown  of  these  realms,  asserts  that 
the  Prince  arrived  in  this  countiy  to  prosecute  his  suit  to  the 
Princess  Anne,  who  had  just  been  somewhat  unexpectedly  de- 
prived of  another  lover,  on  the  17th  of  November,  1G80.     The 
Sidney  Diaiy  tixes  his  amval  at  Greenwich  on  the  6th  of  Decem- 
ber of  that  year.     England  was  much  disturbed  at  the  time  by  a 
double  subject  of  discussion.     INIen's  minds  were  much  occupied 
'    with  the  question  of  excluding  from  the  succession  to  the  throne 
Jiunes,  the  father  of  the  lady  to  whom  George  came  a-wooing. 
The  second  subject  of  disquietude  was  the  trial  of  Lord  Viscount 
Stafford,  who  was  then  in  process  of  bi'ing  slowly  murdered  by  a 
judicial  trial,  on  a  charge  of  conspiring  the  death  of  the  King. 
The  charge  was  supi>orted  by  the  oaths,  made  with  alacrity,  of 
that  pupifof  whom  Merchant  Taylors*  School  is  not  proud/ritus 
Gates,  and  one  or  two  others— liai-s  as  stupendous.     If  George 
Louis  landed  at  Greenwich,  as  is  said,  on  the   Gth  of  December, 
1680,  it  was  the  day  on  which  the  calumniated  nobleman  entered 
on  his  defence.     On  the  7th  he  was  condemned,  and  Evelj-n,  who 
was  present  at  the  trial,  rightly  remarks  upon  the  guilt  or  inno- 
cence of  the  accused  in  this  strain :— "  I  can  hardly  think  that  a 
person  of  his  age  and  experience  should  engage  men  whom  he 
never  saw  before   (and  one  of  them  that  came  to  visit  him  as  a 
stranger  at  Paris),  point  blank  to  murder  the  King ;"  but  in  recol- 
lection  of  the  delibemte  and  hard  swearing,  he  adds,  perplexedly, 
^  God  only,  who  searches  hearts,  can  discover  the  truth."     On  the 
29th  of  the  month  Viscount  Stafford  was  beheaded  on  Tower  Hill, 
ond  at  this  lively  spectacle  George  of  Hanover  was  i)robably  pres- 


ent, for  on  the  30th  of  the  month  he  sends  a  long  letter  to  her 
Serene  Highness,  his  mother,  s^tating  that  "they  cut  off  the  head 
of  Lord  Stafford  yesterday,  and  made  no  more  ado  about  it  than  if 
they  had  chopped  off  the  head  of  a  pullet." 

In  this  letter,  the  writer  enters  into  the  details  of  the  incidents 
of  his  arrival  and  reception  in  England.     His  higlmess's  spelling 
of  the  names  of  places  is  as  defective  as  that  of  poor  Caroline  of 
Brunswick  was  generally,  and  it  reminds  us,  if  one  may  go  to  the 
stage  for  a  simile,  of  the  "  Cacolology"  of  Lord  Duberly.     How- 
ever, the  prince  spelt  quite  as  correctly  as  many  a  lord  or  lady 
either,  of  his  time.     The  tenor  of  his  epistle  is,  that  he  remained 
one  whole  day  at  anchor  at  '^  Grmmwitsch"  (which  is  his  reading 
of  Greenwich,)  while  his  secretary,  Mr.  Beck,  went  ashore  to  look 
for  a  house  for  him,  and  find  out  his  uncle  Prince  Rupert.     Scant 
ceremony  was  displayed,  it  would  appear,  to  render  hospitable 
welcome  to  such  a  visitor.    Hospitality,  however,  did  not  altogether 
lack.     The  zealous  Beck  found  out  "  Uncle  Robert,"  as  the  prince 
ungermanizes  Rupert,  and  the  uncle  having  little  of  his  own  to 
offer  to  his  nephew,  straightway  announced  to  Charles  IL  the  cir- 
cumstance that  the  princely  lover  of  his  niece  was  lying  in  the 
mud  off  Grunnwitsch.     "  His  Majesty,"  says  George  Louis,  "  im- 
mediately ordered  them  apartments  at  Writhall,'' — and  he  then 
proceeds  to  state  that  he  had  not  been  there  above  two  hours 
Avhen  Lord  Hamilton  arrived  to  conduct  him  to  the  king,  who  re- 
ceived him  most  obligingly.     He  then  adds,  "  Prince  Robert  had 
preceded  me,  and  was  at  court  when  I  saluted  King  Charles.     In 
making  my  obeisance  to  the  king,  I  did  not  omit  to  give  him  the 
lett(;r  of  your  Serene  Highness ;   after  which  he  spoke  of  your 
Iligliness,  and  said  that  he  'remembered  you  very  well.'     When 
lie  had  talked  with  me  some  time,  he  went  to  the  queen,  and  as 
soon  as  I  arrived,  he  made  me  kiss  the  hem  of  her  Majesty's  petti- 
coat.   The  next  day  I  saw  the  Princess  of  York  (the  Lady  Anne), 
and  I  j-aluted  her  by  kissing  her,  with  the  consent  of  the  king. 
The  day  after,  I  went  to  visit  Prince  Robert,  who  received  me  in 
bed,  for  he  has  a  malady  in  his  leg,  which  makes  him  very  often 
keep  his  bed.     It  appears  that  it  is  so,  without  any  pretext,  and 
he  has  to  take  care  of  himself.     He  had  not  failed  of  coming  to 


m 


32  LIVES  OF  THE    QUEENS  OF   ENGLAND. 

see  me  one  clay.  All  the  lords  came  to  see  me,  sans  pretendre  le 
main  chez  moir  (probably,  rather  meaning  without  ceremony, 
without  kissing  hands,  as  was  the  common  custom  m  Germany, 
fi-om  inferiors  to  superiors,  and  still  remains  a  custom  m  Southern 
Germany-than,  as  has  been  suggested,  that  -  they  came  without 
venturing  to  shake  hands  whh  him.") 

There  is  something  melancholy  in  the  idea  of  the  fiery  Rupert 
held  in-loriously  prostrate  in  bed  by  a  sore  leg ;  and  there  is  a 
subject  lor  a  picture  in  the  profligate  little  George,  saluting  the 
lips  of  the  cold  princess  Anne.     Cold,  at  all  events,  and  deaf,  it 
we  were  to  judge  by  results,  did  the  princess  remain  to  the  suit  of 
the  Hanoverian  wooer.     The  suit,  indeed,  was  not  pressed  by  any 
sanction  of  the  lady's  father,   who  during  the  three  months'  of 
George  Louis  in  England,  remained  in  mther  secluded  state,  at 
Ilolyrood.     Neither   was   the  "  suit   opposed   by  James.     In  the 
seclusion  to  which  he  was  condemned  by  Charles,  who  bade  him 
take  patience,  a  commodity  much  needed  by  himself,  James  wa-s 
troubled  but  little  touching  the  suitor  of  his  daughter.     He  had 
personal  troubles  enough  of  his  own  wherewith  to  be  concerned, 
and  therewith  sundry  annoyances.     On  tlie  Christinas  day  of  this 
year,  while  George  of  Hanover  was  enjoying  the  festivities  of  this 
time!  at   the    side  of  James's  daughter,  the   students  of  King's 
Colh'-e,    Edhiburgh,   entertained  James  himself  by  a  spectacle 
which  must  have  raised  a  sardonic  smile  on  his  unusually  sardonic 
face.     Those  young  gentlemen  burnt  the  Pope  in  effigy,  in  front 
of  Ilolyrood  House,  and  beneath  the  windows  of  the  apartments 
occupied  l)V  James.     Sir  John  Lander  apologizes  for  this  rudeness 
by  kindly  explaining  that  "  this  was  highly  resented  as  an  inhos- 
pitable affront  to  the  Duke  of  York,  tliough  it  teas  only  to  his 
religionr     As  if  an  aflVont  to  what  is  so  sacred,  could  be  excused 
by  an  "only."     But  it  was  at  a  time  when  the  actors  at  the 
^'Theritre  Royal"  in  London  were  playing  "the  Female  Prelate," 
and  George   Louis  had  a  good  opi)ortunity  of  hearing  in  wliat 
rugged  hexameters  was  told  the  story  of  Joanna  Angelica.     Hew 
the'oifended  became  the  slighted  mistress  of  the  Duke  of  Saxony, 
vowed  revenge,  turned  monk,  became  Pope,  and  after  revenging 


SOPHIA   DOllOTIIEA. 


33 


the  injuries   she   had  received  from  the   Duke,   as  woman,  con- 
demned him  to  the  st.'UvC  for  his  blaspliemies  against  her  as  Pope. 

Among  the  ''celebrations"  of  the  visits  of  George  Louis  to  this 
country,  was  the  pomp  of  the  ceremony  which  welcomed  him  to 
Cambridge.  Never  had  the  groves  or  stream  of  Cam  been  made 
vocal  by  the  echoes  of  such  laudation  as  was  given  and  taken  in 
this  solemnly  hilarious  occasion.  There  was  much  feasting,  which 
included  very  much  drinking,  and  there  was  much  expenditure  of 
lieavy  compliment  in  very  light  Latin.  Scaliger's  assertion,  that 
the  Germans  do  not  care  what  wine  they  drink,  as  long  as  it  is 
wine,  nor  wliat  Latin  they  speak,  as  long  as  it  is  Latin,  is  a 
calumny.  They  are  nice  connoisseurs  of  both.  George  and  his 
trio  of  followers,  who  were  made  doctors  of  law  by  the  scholastic 
authorities,  were  too  polite  to  criticise  ehher.  The  honor,  how- 
ever, was  hardly  more  appropriate  than  when  a  similar  one  was 
conferred,  in  after  years,  upon  IMucher  and  the  celebrated  artillery 
officer,  Gneisenau.  "  Ah ! "  exclaimed  the  veteran  leatler,  "  they 
are  going  to  make  me  a  doctor ;  but  it  was  Gneisenau  tliat  fur- 
nished all  the  pills." 

That  Parliament  was  convened  at  OxfoM  whereby  there  was, 
as  Evelyn  remarks,  *'  great  expectation  of  liis  Royal  Highness's 
cause,  as  to  the  succession  against  which  the  house  was  set,"  and 
therewith  there  was,  according  to  the  same  diarist,  "an  extra- 
ordinary, sharp,  cold  spring,  not  yet  a  leaf  upon  the  trees,  frost 
and  snow  Ivins  while  the  whole  nation  was  in  the  greatest  fer- 
nicnt." — Such  was  the  Parliament,  and  such  the  spring,  when 
George  Louis  was  suddenly  called  home.  He  was  highly  in- 
terested in  the  bill,  which  was  read  a  first  time  at  that  Parliament, 
as  also  in  the  ''expedients"  which  were  proi)Osed  in  lieu  of  such 
bill,  and  rejected.  The  expedients  proposed  instead  of  the  Bill  of 
Exclusion  in  this  Parliament,  were  that  the  whole  government, 
upon  the  death  of  Charles  II.,  should  be  vested  in  a  regent,  who 
should  be  the  Princess  of  Orange,  and  if  she  died  without  issue, 
then  the  Princess  Anne  should  be  regent.  But  if  James,  Duke  of 
York,  should  have  a  son  educated  a  Protestant,  then  the  regency 
should  last  no  lonirer  than  his  minority,  and  that  the  regent  should 
uovern   in  the  name  of  the  father  wliile  he  lived ;  but  that  he 


kv\ 


I 


84 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF   ENGLAND. 


SOPHLV   DOROTHEA. 


85 


should  be  obliged  to  reside  five  hundred  miles  from  the  British 
dominions ;  and  if  the  Duke  should  return  to  tliesc  kingdoms,  the 
crown  should  immediately  devolve  on  the  regent,  and  the  Duke 
and  his  adherents  be  deemed  guilty  of  high  treason. 

Here  was  matter  in  which  the  Hanoverian  suitor  was  doubly 
interested  both  as  man  and  as  lover.  However  strenuously  some 
writers  may  assert  that  the  heads  of  the  House  of  Brunswick 
troubled  themselves  in  no  wise  upon  the  question  of  the  succes- 
sion, no  one  can  deny,  or  doubt,  that  tlu'y  had  a  deep,  though,  it 
may  be  as  yet,  a  distant  interest  in  it.  Their  concern  was  greater 
than  their  professed  adherents  will  consent  to  acknowledge.  Nor 
was  there  anything  unnatural  or  unbecoming  m  such  concern. 
The  possible  inheritance  of  even  such  a  tlu-one  as  that  of  England 
was  in  the  days  of  Charles  II.,  when  Britain  was  treated  with  a 
contempt  by  other  nations,  which  of  right  belonged  only  to  her 
worthless  sovereign — even  a  possible  inheritance  to  even  such  a 
throne  was  not  to  be  contemplated  without  emotion.  An  exclu- 
sive Protestant  succession  made  such  a  heritage  possible  to  the 
house  of  Brunswick,  and  if  ever  the  heads  of  that  house,  before 
the  object  of  their  hopes  was  reidized,  ceased  to  be  active  for  its 
realization,  it  was  when  assurance  was  made  doubly  sure,  and 
action  was  unnecessary. 

It  is  not  easy  to  determine  what  part  William  of  Orange  had  in 
the  recall  of  George  Louis  from  England,  but  the  suddenness  of 
that  recall  was  an  object  of  some  admiring  jierplexity  to  a  lover, 
who  left  a  lady  who  was  by  no  means  inconsolable,  and  who,  two 
3'ears  afterwards,  was  gaily  married  at  St.  James's  to  the  Prince 
of  Denmaik,  on  the  first  leisure  day  between  the  executions  of 
Kussell  tuid  Sidney. 

George  Louis,  however,  obeyed  the  summons  of  his  sovereign 
and  father,  but  it  was  not  until  his  amval  in  Iliuiover  that  he 
.  found  hunself  called  upon  to  transfer  the  prosecution  of  his  matri- 
monial suit  from  one  object  to  another.  The  ruling  idea  in  the 
mind  of  Ernest  Augustus  was,  that  if  the  territory  of  Zell  were 
miited  to  tliat  of  Hanover,  there  would  be  an  increased  chance  of 
procuring  from  the  Emperor  its  elevation  to  an  electorate ;  and  he 
felt  that,  however  he  might  liave  provided  to  secure  his  succession 


to  the  dominion  of  Zell,  the  marriage  of  his  son  with  the  Duke's 
only  child  would  add  thereto  many  broad  acres,  the  possession 
of  which  would  add  dignity  to  the  Elector. 

Sophia  Dorothea  was  still  little  more  than  a  child;  but  that 
very  circumstance  was  made  use  of  in  order  to  procure  the  post- 
ponement of  her  marriage  with  Augustus  of  Wolfenbuttel.  The 
Duke  of  Zell  did  not  stand  in  need  of  much  argument  from  his 
brother  to  understand  that  the  union  of  the  young  lovers  might 
more  properly  be  celebrated  when  the  bride  was  sixteen  than  a 
year  earlier.  The  duke  was  ready  to  accept  any  reasoning,  the 
object  of  which  was  to  enable  him  to  retain  his  daughter  another 
year  at  his  side.  Accoixlingly,  a  betrothal  only  took  place  between 
Sophia  and  Augustus,  and  the  public  ceremony  of  marriage  was 
deferred  for  a  year  and  some  supplementary  months. 

It  was  a  time  which  was  very  actively  employed  by  those  who 
hoped  to  accomplish  much  before  it  had  quite  expired.  Latimer 
remarks,  tluit  the  devil  is  the  only  prelate  he  knew  who  is  for 
ever  busy  in  his  diocese.  He  certainly  was  unweariedly  occupied 
for  a  time  in  that  portion  of  his  see  which  is  comprised  in  the 
narrow  limits  including  Hanover  and  Zell.  And  it  was  an  occu- 
j)ation  in  which  that  dark  diocesan  must  have  been  especially 
delighted.  "  The  end  of  the  action  employed  w^as  to  destroy  the 
happiness  of  two  young  |>ersons  who  were  bound  to  each  other  by 
the  strong  bonds  of  respect  and  aftection.  A  bad  ambition  was 
the  impelling  motive  of  such  action.  The  devil,  then,  never  had 
work  which  so  exactly  suited  his  satanic  nature. 

His  ministers,  however  worthy  they  may  have  been  of  their 
ma-ster,  as  far  as  zeal  was  concerned,  did  him  or  themselves  little 
credit  with  regard  to  the  measure  of  their  success.  The  sixteenth 
birtli-day  of  Sopliia  Dorothea  had  arrived,  and  George  Louis  had 
made  no  impression  on  her  heart,  the  image  of  the  absent  Augustus 
still  lived  there ;  and  the  whole  plot  would  have  failed,  but  for  the 
sudden,  and  active,  and  efficient  energy  of  one  who  seemed  as  if 
she  had  allowed  matters  to  proceed  to  extremity,  in  order  to  ex- 
hibit the  better  her  own  powers  when  she  condescended  to  inter- 
fere personally,  and  remedy  the  ill-success  of  others  by  a  triumph 
of  her  own.     That  person  was  Sophia,  the  wife  of  Eniest,  a  lady 


Fl 


t 


li 


S(i 


LIVKS   OF  TIIK   QUEENS   OF   ENGLAND. 


SOI'IIIA   DOROTHEA. 


37 


who  rivalled  GriseUla  in  one  point  of  her  patience— that  which 
she  felt  for  her  hiishand's  intidrJities.  In  other  respects  she  Mas 
craftv,  philosophical,  and  free-thinking;  bnt  she  was  as  ambitious 
as  any  of  her  family,  and  as  she  had  resolved  on  the  marriage  of 
her  son,  George  Louis,  with  Sophia  Dorothea,  she  at  once  pro- 
ceeded to  accompli.«.h  that  u\H)n  which  she  had  resolved. 

It  had  suddenly  come  to  her  knowledge  that  Augustus  of  Wdlf- 
enbuttel  had  made  his  re-appearance  at  the  Court  of  Z«'1I. 
Coupling  the  knowledge  of  this  fact  with  the  remembnuiee  that 
Sophia  Dorothea  was  now  sixteen  years  of  age,  and  that  at  such  a 
period  her  marriage  had  been  fixed,  the  mother  of  George  Louis 
addressed  herself  at  once  to  the  tcosk  of  putting  her  son  in  the 
place  of  the  favored  lover.  She  ordered  out  the  heavy  coach  and 
heavier  ^Mecklenburg  horses,  by  which  German  potentates  were 
wont  to  travel  stalely  and  leisurely  by  post  some  two  centuries 
ago.  It  was  night  when  she  left  Hanover ;  and  although  she  had 
not  fiirther  to  travel  than  an  ordinary  train  could  now  accomplish 
in  an  hour,  it  was  broad  daylight  before  this  match-making  and 
match-breaking  ladv  reached  the  portals  of  tlie  ducal  palace  of 

Zell. 

Tliere  was  something  delightfully  primitive  in  the  method  of 

her  proceeding.  She  did  not  despise  state,  except  on  occasions 
when  serious  business  was  on  hand.  The  present  was  such  an 
occasion,  and  she  therefore  waited  for  no  usher  to  marshal  her 
wav  and  announce  her  coming  to  the  duke.  She  descended  from 
her  jwuderous  coach,  jjushed  aside  the  sleepy  sentinel,  who  ap- 
peared disposed  to  question  her,  ere  he  made  way,  and  entering 
the  hall  of  the  mansion,  loudlv  demanded  of  the  few  servants  who 
came  hurrvintr  to  meet  her,  to  be  conducted  to  the  duke.  It  was 
intimated  to  her  that  he  was  then  dressing,  but  that  his  IIighne-< 
would  -oon  be  in  a  condition  to  descend  and  wait  upon  her. 

Too  impatient  to  tariy.  and  too  eager  to  care  for  ceremony,  she 
mounted  the  stairs,  bade  a  groom  of  the  chamber  [K)int  out  to  her 
the  diH>r  of  the  duke's  room ;  and,  her  onler  havinir  been  obeved. 
slft^  ibithwith  pushed  open  the  door,  entered  the  apartment,  and 
discovered  the  dismayed  duke  in  the  most  niglige  of  dishaliUes. 
She  neither  made  apology  nor  would  receive  any;  but  intimatin** 


that  she  came  upon  business,  at  once  a-ked,  "Where  is  your 
wife?"  The  flurried  Duke  (;f  Zell  pointed  through  an  open  door 
to  a  capacious  bed  in  the  adjacent  room,  wherein  lay  the  wonder- 
ing duchess,  lost  in  eider-down  and  deep  amazement. 

The  »•  old  Sophia"  could  have  wished,  it  would  seem,  that  she 
had  been  further  off.  She  was  n#t  quite  rude  enough  to  close  the 
door,  and  so  cut  off  all  communication  and  listening ;  but  remem- 
bering that  the  Duchess  of  Zell  was  but  very  indifferently  ac- 
quainted with  German,  she  ceased  to  speak  in  the  language  then 
common  to  the  German  courts — French.— and  innnediately  ad- 
dressed the  duke  in  hard  Teutonic  phrase,  which  was  utterly  unin- 
telligible to  the  vexed  and  suspecting  duchess. 

It  wa<  another  group  for  an  artist  de>irous  to  illustrate  the  bye- 
ways  of  history.  Half  undressed,  the  duke  occupied  a  chair  close 
to  his  toilet-table,  while  the  astute  wife  of  Ernest  Augustus,  seated 
near  him,  unfolded  a  narrative  to  which  he  listened  with  every  mo- 
ment an  incrca-^e  of  complacency  and  conviction.  The  Duchess 
PLleanor,  from  her  Ix  d  in  the  adjacent  room,  could  see  the  actors, 
but  could  not  comprehend  tlie  dialogue.  But  if  the  narrative  was 
unintelligible  to  her,  she  could  understand  the  drift  of  the  argu- 
ment ;  and  as  the  names  of  lier  daughter  and  lover  were  being 
constantly  pronounced  with  that  of  George  Louis,  the  poor  lady 
coiuinued  to  lie  heli)less  beneath  much  alarm  and  her  silk  counter- 
pane. 

The  ca-e  was  forcibly  put  by  the  mother  of  George.  She  showed 
how  union  makes  strength,  how  little  profit  could  arise  from  a 
ma'.ch  between  Sophia  Dorothea  and  Augustus  of  Wolfenbuttel, 
and  how  advantageous  must  be  an  union  between  the  heir  of  Han- 
over and  the  heiress  of  the  domains  which  her  provident  father  had 
added  to  Zell,  and  had  bequeathed  to  his  daughter.  She  sj)oke  of 
the  certainty  of  p:mest  Augustus  being  created  arch-standard-bearer 
of  the  emi>ire  of  Gennany,  and  therewith  Elector  of  Ilimover. 
She  hinted  at  the  possibility  even  of  Sophia  Dorothea  one  day 
sharing  with  her  son  the  throne  of  Great  Britain.  The  hint,  iV 
really  made,  was  something  premature,  but  the  astute  lady  may 
have  strengthened  her  case  by  remindhig  her  hearer  that  the'crown 
of  England  would  most  probably  be  reserved  only  for  a  Protestant 


f-7 


38 


LIVES   OF   THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


succession,  and  that  her  son  was,  if  a  distant,  yet  not  a  very  distant, 
and  certainly  a  possible  heir. 

The  obsequious  Duke  of  Zell  was  bewildered  by  the  visions  of 
greatness  presented  to  his  mind's  eye  by  his  clever  sister-in-law. 
He  was  as  proud  as  the  poor  exiled  Stanislaus,  who  entered  his 
daughter's  apartment  on  the  morning  he  received  the  application 
of  Louis  XV.  for  her  hand,  with  the  salutation,  "  Good  morning* 
my  child !  you  are  Queen  of  France ;"  and  then  he  kissed  the  hand 
of  ]Marie  Leczinska, — the  happy  father,  too  happy  to  be  the  first 
to  render  homage  to  his  daughter  on  her  becoming,  what  he  had 
ceased  to  be — a  sovereign  oppressed  by  responsibilities.  The 
Duke  of  Zell  was  almost  as  ea;?er  to  ^o  and  con^^ratulate  his  daujjh- 
ter.  With  ready  lack  of  honesty,  he  had  consented  to  break  off 
the  match  between  Sophia  Dorothea  and  her  affianced  lover,  and 
to  bestow  her  hand  upon  the  careless  prince  for  whom  it  was  now 
demanded  by  his  mother.  The  latter  returned  to  Hanover  per- 
fectly satisfied  with  the  work  of  that  night  and  morning. 

The  same  satisfaction  was  not  experienced  by  the  Duchess 
Eleanora,  When  she  came  to  learn  the  facts,  she  burst  forth  ;n 
expressions  of  grief  and  indignation.  The  marriage  which  had 
now  been  definitively  broken,  had  been  with  her  an  affair  of  the 
heart, — of  a  mother's  heart.  It  had  not  been  less  an  affair  of  the 
heart, — of  a  young  girl's  heart,  with  Sophia  Dorothea ;  and  the 
princely  lover  from  Wolfcnbuttel  had  invested  as  much  heart  in 
the  matter  as  had  ever  been  known  in  Cicrman  times  when  min- 
strels sang  of  knights  who^e  chivalry  more  than  hidf  consisted  of 
fidelity  in  love.  It  was  a  pitiable  case !  There  were  three  per- 
sons who  were  to  be  rendered  irretrievably  wretched,  in  order,  not 
that  any  one  might  be  rendered  hapjiy,  but  that  a  man,  without  a 
heart,  might  be  made  a  little  more  sjiacious  in  the  possession  of 
dirt.  The  acres  of  Zell  were  to  bring  misery  on  their  heiress,  and 
every  acre  was  to  purchase  its  sea<on  of  sorrow. 

No  entreaty  could  move  the  duke.  In  his  dignity  he  forgot  the 
father ;  and  the  prayers  and  tears  of  his  child  failed  to  touch  the 
parent,  who  really  loved  her  well,  but  whose  atfection  was  dissolved 
beneath  the  fiery  heat  of  his  ambition,  lie  was  singularly  ambi- 
tious; for  the  iwssible  effect  of  a  maniuge  with  George  Louis  was 


SOPUIA   DOROTIJEA. 


o9 


merely  to  add  his  own  independent  duchy  of  Lunebourg  to  the  do- 
minions of  IIano^  er.  His  daughter,  moreover,  detested  her  cousin 
and  his  wife  detested  her  sister-in-law ;— above  all,  the  newly  ac- 
cepted bridegroom,  if  he  did  not  detest,  had  no  shadow,  nor  affected 
to  have  any  shadow,  of  respect,  regard,  or  affection  for  the  poor 
young  victim  who  wa^  to  be  fiung  to  him  with  indecent  and  unna- 
tural dis»egard  of  all  her  feelings  as  daughter  and  maiden. 

The  matter  was  urged  onward  by  Sophia  of  Hanover;  and  in 
testimony  of  the  freedom  of  inclination  with  which  Sophia  Doro- 
thea acted  on  this  marriage,  she  addressed  a  fonnal  letter  to  the 
mother  of  her  proposed  husband,  expressive  of  her  obedience  to 
the  will  of  her  father,  and  promissory  of  the  same  obedience  to  the 
requirements  of  her  future  mother-in-law.  It  is  a  mere  formal 
document,  proving  nothing  but  that  it  was  penned  for  the  assumed 
writer  by  a  cold-hearted  inventor,  and  that  the  heart  of  the  copier 
was  far  away  from  her  words. 

After  a  world  of  misery  ?uid  mock  wooing,  crowded  into  a  few 
months,  the  hateful  and  ill-omened  marriage  took  place  at  Zell  on 
the  21st  of  November,  1G82.  The  bride  was  sixteen,  the  bride- 
groom twenty-two.  There  was  quite  enough  on  both  sides  to  make 
ha])piness,  if  youth  could  establish  felicity ;  but  in  this  case  the 
maiden,  who  was  one  of  the  fairest  and  most  refined  of  German 
maidens,  had  neither  heart  nor  regard  for  the  youth,  who  was  one 
of  the  least  attractive  in  mind  or  person  who  could  addi-ess  himself 
to  win  a  maiden's  hand,  which,  on  the  present  occasion,  was  the 
very  last  thing  he  thought  of  doing. 

The  marriage  took  place,  as  I  have  stated,  on  the  21st  of  No- 
vember, 1682;  a  week  after,  Prince  Iiui)ert,  who,  for  some  time 
befi.re  had  been  sunning  himself,  a  poor  invalid,  beneath  the  beeches 
at  AVindsor,  died  at  his  house  in  Spring  Gardens  (where  he  had 
resided  for  eight  years)— as  though  the  intelligence  of  the  mar- 
riage had  been  too  much  for  his  worn-out  spirit— or  its  shattered 
tabernacle. 

Of  the  spienuor  which  attended  the  ceremony,  court  historio- 
grajdiers  wrote  in  loyal  ecstacy  and  large  folios,  describing  every 
character  and  dress,  every  incident  and  dish,  every  tabl  °au  and 
trait,' with  a  minuteness  almost  inconceivable,  and  a  weariness  which 


i 


40 


LIVES  OF  TUE  QUEENS    OF  EXGLANl). 


SOPHIA    DOROTHEA. 


is  sadileninp;  even  to  think  of.  Thev  tliou^jlit  of  evervtliinor  but  the 
heart  of  the  principal  personage  in  the  ceremony — that  of  tlie  bride. 
They  could  describe  the  superb  lace  which  veiled  it,  and  prate  of 
its  value  and  workmanship;  but  of  the  worth  and  woe  of  the  heart 
which  beat  beneath  it,  these  courtly  historians  knew  no  more  than 
they  did  of  honesty.  Their  flattery  was  of  the  grossest,  but  they 
had  no  comprehension  of  "  the  situation."  To  them  all  mortals 
were  but  as  ballet-dancers  and  pantomimists,  and  if  they  were  but 
bravely  dressed,  and  picturesquely  grouped,  the  describers  thereof 
thought  of  nothing  beyond. 

Tlie  maker  of  this  splendidly  miserable  marriage  was  proud  of 
her  acliievement.  She  claims  a  word  of  description  for  herself, 
even  though  it  be  at  the  end  of  a  chapter. 

Chevreau,  the  friend  of  the  Elector  Palatine  Charles  Louis,  the 
brother  of  Sophia,  said  of  the  Duchess  of  Hanover,  '*  that  in  all 
France  there  exists  no  one  of  a  more  excellent  wit  than  the  Duch- 
ess Sophia;"  and, as  if  to  show  that  there  were  things  in  Germany 
as  valuable  as  wit,  he  adds,  *•  neither  is  there  any  one  more  deeply 
instructed  in  i)hilosophical  science  than  her  fisler,  the  Princess 
Elizabeth  of  IJohemia." 

Sophia  had  been  born  in  a  school  which  sharpens  wit.  Her 
mother  was  the  high-spirited  daughter  of  a  meanly-spirited  king 
who  allowed  her  to  marry  as  poor-spirited  a  prince.  Elizabeth, 
daughter  of  James  I.,  used  to  say  to  her  rather  jn-ovoking  and  not 
very  Protestant  mother,  Anne  of  Denmark,  that  she  would  not  be 
a  Ponianist  to  gain  the  most  brilliant  crown  in  the  world.  She 
was  married  to  Frederick,  the  Elector  l*alatine,  when  the  religious 
revolutions  of  the  tune  called  him  to  the  newlv-created  throne  of 
Bohemia,  whereon  his  gallant  wife  would  have  held  him,  had  she 
only,  in  return,  been  supported  by  her  father.  ""  Goody  Palsgrave  " 
was  hardly  a  harsh  nickname  for  such  a  consort  as  hei*s.  lie  had 
nothing  of  the  manly  courage  which  looks  misfortune  steadily  hi 
the  face,  and  strives  to  make  it  lead  to  ultimate  success.  lie  lost  a 
kingdom,  with  teal's  in  his  eyes,  like  the  ^loor  in  Spain, — and 
thereupon  submitted,  yet  with  nothing  of  heroic  patience,  to  des- 
tiny. So,  he  lost  the  young  i)rince,  Frederick  Henry,  his  son,  who 
wa-^  drowned  in  his  sight, — calling  to  him  for  help.     He  could  be- 


41 


wail  the  lot  of  his  perishing  boy,  but  even  parental  love  could  not 
nerve  him  to  strike  out  boldjj-  and  save  the  sinking  child.  Like 
his  misfortunes,  his  children  were  not  few,  but  they  were  singularJy 
unlike  their  father.  His  son,  Charies  Louis,  i)erhaps,  had  some 
points  of 'resemblance  with  his  sire;  but  how  unlike  him  was  the 
liery  Rupert ;  how  unlike,  the  "  Grave  Maurice,"  named  so,  not 
from  his  gravity,  but  from  his  rank.  His  daughters,  too,  partook 
more  of  their  mother's  mental  qualities  than  of  her  husband's- 
Adversity,  tribulation,  flattery,  or  deception,  worked  in  each— Eliz- 
abeth,  Louisa,  Henrietta,  and  Sophia — various  results;  but  the 
mother's  intellect  was  inherited  by  all,  without  all  possessing  the 
mother's  virtues. 

Whilst  the  mother  was  dwelling  at  the  Hague,  absent  from  the 
electoral  court  of  her  son,  Sophia  was  the  chosen  companion,  the 
solace,  and  the  joy  of  the  deep-thinking  and  wild-dreaming  Eliza- 
beth, her  sister.     The  latter  heard  with  some  surprise,  and  still 
more  indignation,  that  the  heavy  Duke  of  Brunswick,  Emest  Au- 
gustus, had  made  an  oiler  of  marriage  to  the  brilliant  and  light- 
hearted  Soi)hia.     The  offer  smacked  of  presumption,  for  Sophia 
was  the  daughter  of  a  king,  though  but  of  a  poor  and  brief-reign- 
ing monarch;  whereas  Ernest  Augustus  was  but  a  duke,  with 
large  pride,  but  a  very  small  estate,  and  not  rich  in  expectations. 
No  one  could  have  guessed  when  he  went  a-wooing  to  the  gay  and 
intellectual  Soplna,  that  he  would  ever  be  more  than  Duke  of 
Brunswick  and  Bishop  of  Osnaburgh.     It  did  not  enter  into  pop- 
ular speculation  that  he  would  ever  be  Duke  of  Brunswick  and 
Elector  of  Hanover.    On  the  other  hand,  speculation  could  hardly 
have  imagined,  in  the  year  16.j8,  that  the  young  Sophia  would  be 
the  heiress  of  a  throne,  and  the  mother  of  a  line  of  kino^?.     Her 
own  mother,  the  ex-Queen  of  Bohemia,  decidedly  looked  upon  the 
match  as  a  nusallUmce,  but  it  was  one  of  those  which  may  be  said, 
in  more  than  in  the  popular  and  proverbial  sense,  to  have  been 
made  in  Heaven ;  for  though  it  could  not  personally  benefit  the 
daughter  of  James  L,  it  gave  a  crown  to  the  grandchild  of  her  who 
had  so  proudly  declared  that  she  would  rather  forfeit  the  most 
glorious  crown  on  earth  than  retain  it  by  the  surrender  of  Protest- 
antism.    It  was  doubly  right  that  in  the  Protestant  child  of  such  a 


n 


m 


42 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  EXGLAXD. 


SOPHIA   DOROTHEA. 


43 


mother,  the  succession  to  the  throne  of  these  realms  should  have 
been  tixed.  We  shall  hear  ^ub^equenlly  of  the  grand-ilaughter  of 
Charles  I^  the  Duchess  of  Savoy  (subsequently  Queen  of  Sar- 
dmia).  protesting  ag;iinst  such  iin  arrangement.  Her  protest  was 
not  valid,  only  because  it  was  not  founded  on  the  principles  which 
were  asserted'  bv  EUzabeth  of  Bohemia,  and  wliich  inHuenced  her 
daughter  Sophia.  The  daughter  of  Ch;irles  the  First's  younge>t 
daughter  would  fain  have  had  the  throne  of  England  rendered 
accessible  to  herself  and  heirs,  although  Romanist.-,  upon  the  poor 
understanding  of  toleration  to  the  reformed  kiiih.  Our  forelalhers 
would  hiive  nothing  to  do  wiih  such  compromise,  and  they  who 
kept  to  the  purer  faith  g-ained  the  splendid  prize. 

Sophia  was  m;irried  in  1  Go^,  and  during  a  long  course  of  sub- 
sequent years,  she  sustained  the  highest  reputation  for  slirewdness, 
extensive  knowk-dge.  wit,  acute  observation,  originality  of  concep- 
tion, and  brilli;uicy  of  expression.  She  had  not.  indeed,  the  stem 
steathiie>s  of  principle  of  her  mother,  and  she  was  by  tar  more 
ambitious,  while  she  was  les*  scrupulous  as  to  the  means  employed 
for  the  attainment  of  her  end-.  Men  vx  less  inlbrmation  ilian  her- 
seh*  were  alraid  of  her.  for  >iie  uos  luiid  of  triumpliing  in  argu- 
ment. But  she  was  ireviouslv  well-armed  for  securinjr  such  tri- 
umphs.  ;md  the  amount  of  knowledge  which  she  had  made  her  own, 
amid  scenes  and  trials  and  dissij^ation-  ^■••'  favorable  to  the  amass- 
inir  of  such  intellectual  treasure,  i*  accuuaied  for  bv  a  remark  of 
Leibnitz,  with  whom  she  lovetl  '  ' '  close  inier«»ur!*, — to  the 
effect  that  she  w:is  not  only  givt-n  lu  asking  irAy,  but  that,  as  be 
q[uaintly  puts  it,  she  invariably  wanted  to  know  the  irAy  of  the 
"whys.  In  other  woAi>.  -  .>>-vpied  no  reasons  that  were  not  ren- 
dered sirictlv  intell "_         :o  her. 

And  then,  she  w;^-  .is  she  was  cle'.      .    •it bout  a  tiBs:e 

of  peniit">s  to  sji^il  her  l»eau:y.  or  a  trace  of  pedantry  to  mar  her 
scholarship^     If  she  loved  ;o  win  logical  battles  by  power  of  the 

latter,  ind  fousht  boldlv.  ea .  and  with  everv  sense  awake  to 

pn>dt  by  the  weakness  of  her  adversary,  it  was  all  dime  gailv.  and 
lightly;  and  if  gr^eai  wits  wer  -^  !!ed  over  in  the  das«  when  they 
tilted  ag&in^t  her  in  intellet:;,-ai  lonmaments,  thej  were  ready  to 


acknowledge  tliat  they  were  struck  down  with  a  most  consummate 
grace. 

She  as  much  enjoyed  to  see  these  battlings  of  brains  between 
other  parties,  as  to  sustain  the  fight  herself.     When  her  sister 
EUzabeth  had  withdrawn  from  the  v,-orld,  and  retired  within  the 
Protestant  Abl>ev  of  Ilerford,  to  dream  with  the  dreaming  Labadie 
and  his  disciples  over  theories  more  baseless  than  dreams  them- 
selves, the  gay  Sophia  once  surprised  her  too  grave  sister  with  a 
visit.     She  brought  in  her  train  the  ecclesiastical  suf>erintendent 
of  Osnaburgh  for  the  express  purpose  of  "^  pittmg  "  him  again.-t  the 
prophet  and  reformer  Labadie.    Prince  Charles,  the  son  of  Charles 
Louis  (brother  of  Elizabeth  and  Sophia;  and  his  tutor  Paul  Hack- 
enburg.  were  witnesses  or  partid^ers  in  the  intellectual  skirmish. 
Hackenburg  lias  left  a  graphjp  description  of  the  onslaught  be- 
tween the  orthodox  Osnaburgher  and  the  new  apostle  Lal>adie ; 
at  which  Sophia  assisted  without  uttering  a  remark,  but  not  with- 
out giving  evidence  of  much  enjoyment.    "When  all  was  over,  says 
Paul.  -  during  dinner  we  talked  of  nothing  else  but  this  absurd 
and  quaking  sort  of  piety  to  which  jxi-ople  are  sometimes  brought, 
and  oar  a-toni*hment  could  hardly  find  words  when,  alludic  to 
the  number  of  young  women  of  the  best  famihes,  richly  dressed, 
brilliant  with  beauty  and  youth,  vho  were  insane  enough  to  give 
up  the  conduct  of  their  souls  to  this  worst  of  men  and  most  j/ower- 
less  of  priest-  (only  t-  laughed  at  too  by  him  in  secret;,  and 

who  were  so  riveted  to  their  delusions  that  neither  the  prayers  of 
their  parents,  nor  the  pleadings  of  their  l^trothed.  nor  the  prosfject 
of  maternal  joys  could  tear  them  away ;  some  among  them  said 
they  were  surely  hvjiochondriaes  and  unanswerable  for  what  they 
might  do ;  others  opined  that  they  should  all  be  sent  to  the  bath^ 
cS  S^hwalbach  or  Pyrmont.  and  that  probably  they  would  come 
V*.  «.  cuTTiL  All  these  remarks  and  discussions  made  the  Princess 
Elizabeth  highly  indignant,  and  she  exckimed  ajrainst  the  unkind- 
r  --  which  could  induce  any  one  to  ascribe  to  bodily  infirmity  a 
gr» raier  d^rgree  of  piety  wherewith  the  Holy  Ghost  chose  to  inspire 
a  certain  number  of  individuals  purer  than  the  rest '.  But  to  this 
the  Eleetres*  .Sophia,  a  lady  of  extraordinary  beauty,  found  an 
imswer  which  turned  all  biitemess  into  jrenend  mirth,  bv  assertin*'. 


W 


u 


LIVES  OF  THE    QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


with  mock  gravity,  that  her  sister's  sole  reason  for  holding  to  the 
Labadists  was  that  thoy  were  stingy  housekeepers,  and  cost  little 
or  nothing  to  keep."  llackenburg  says  that  the  accusation  was  a 
true  one,  but  it  may  be  added  that  whatever  the  cost  of  this  house- 
hold, it  never  incurred  debt,  never  allowed  expenses  to  go  beyond 
its  means ;  and  if  the  Lady  of  Hanover  and  her  lord  had  always 
followed  the  same  vulgar  fashion,  it  would  have  been  none  the 
worse  for  their  reputation  and  comfort,  or  for  that  perliaps  of  some 
of  their  descendants  who  might  otherwise  have  profited  by  example. 
Spittler,  writing  of  8o])hia  and  her  husband,  says,  rather  too 
panegyricully,  perhai)s: — "Through  the  complicated  events  of 
their  troublous  times,  this  princely  pair  are  a  sort  of  landmark 
whereon  to  rest  the  eye,  and  form  a  proof  of  how  much  good  may 
be  done  by  those  who  hold  an  exalMiil  position.  We  must  admire 
that  really  German  intellectual  enthusiasm  which  made  them  tlie 
friends  of  Leibnitz,  that  systematic  firmness  which  characterized 
their  goverament,  and  allied  to  ceaselessly  active  efforts  for  the 
public  good,  that  untiring  patience  and  longanimity  so  easy  to 
learn  in  years  of  discouragement,  and  generally  so  easily  forgotten 
when  years  of  greater  prosperity  are  reached."  This  is  rather 
showing  the  principal  characters  in  the  drama  under  a  flood  of 
pink  liglit,  but  there  is  nuuli  therein  that  is  fairly  applicable  to 
the  wife  of  Ernest  Auirustus. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  GEOKGE  AND  SOPHIA. 

According  to   Pope,    it   was   'Mo   curse   Pamela  whh   her 
prayers  "  that  the  gods — 

**  Gave  the  gilt  coach  and  dappled  Flanders  mares, 
The  shiniiifT  robes,  rich  jewels,  l)eds  of  state, 
And,  to  complete  her  bliss,  a  fool  for  mate. 
She  jjlarcs  in  balls,  front  boxes,  and  the  ring, 
A  vain,  unquiet,  glitt'ring,  wretched  tiling. 
Pride,  pomp,  and  state  but  reach  her  outward  part ; 
She  sighs,  and  is  no  duchess  at  her  heart." 


SOPniA   LOllOTIIEA. 


45 


The  greatness  of  Sophia  Dorothea  was  no  consequence  of  her 
prayers,  and  she  was  unlike  the  Poet's  Pamela  in  all  things,  save 
that  she  had  "  a  fool  for  mate,"  spent  her  time  in  sighs,  and  was 
indeed  "  no  duchess  at  her  heart."  For  a  few  months  after  her 
husband  had  taken  her  to  Hanover,  she  experienced  perhaps  a 
less  degree  of  unhappiness  than  was  ever  her  lot  subsequently. 
Her  open  and  gentle  nature  won  the  regard  even  of  Ernest 
Augustus.  That  is,  he  paid  her  as  much  regard  as  a  man  so 
coarsely  minded  as  he  was  could  feel  for  one  of  such  true  womanly 
dignity  as  his  daughter-in-law. 

His  respect  for  her,  however,  may  be  best  judged  of  by  the  com- 
panionship to  which  he  sometimes  subjected  her.     He  more  fre- 
quently saw  her  in  society  with  the  immoral  Madame  von  Platen, 
than  in  the  society  of  his  own  wife.     The  position  of  Sopliia  Do- 
rothea with  regard  to  tliis  woman  was  not  unlike  that  of  Marie 
Antoinette  at  the  Court  of  Louis  XV.  with  regard  to  Madame  du 
IJariy.     Poor  Marie  Antoinette  was,  in  some  degree,  the  worse 
conditioned   of  the    two,    for   her  own  mother,  tlie  great  Maria 
Theresa,  held  friendly  intercourse  with  the  king's  "  favorites,"  and 
did  not  hesitate,  wlien  she  Ir.id  a   i)olitical   purpose  in  view,   to 
address  them  by  letter  in  terms  of  familiarity,  if  not  of  endear- 
ment.    By  her  own  mother  she  was  exposed  to  much  indecent 
outrage.     It  was  otherwise  with  Sophia  Dorothea.     Her  mother 
deplored  her  marriage  as  a  miserable  event,  simply  because  she 
was  aware  from  the  character  of  George  Louis,  that  her  husband 
would  heap  upon  her  nothing  but  insult  and  indignity.    Ever  after 
the  separation  of  mother  and  daughter,  the  former  seemed  as  one 
doomed  to  sit  for  ever  beneath  the  shadow  of  a  great  sorrow.   The 
first  child  of  this  marriage  brought  with  him,  however,  some  tran- 
sitory promise  of  felicity.     He  was  born  at  Hanover,  on  the  30th 
of  October,  1G83,  and  when  his  father  conferred  on  him  the  names 
of  George  Augustus,  he  expressed  pleasure  at  liaving  an  heir,  and 
he  even  added  some  words  of  regard  for  the  mother.     But  ex- 
pression of  regard  is  worth  little  unless  its  sincerity  be  proved  by 
action.     It  was  not  so  in  the  present  ca<e.     The  second  child  of 
this  marriage  was  a  daughter,  bom  in  1684.    She  Avas  that  Sophia 
Dorothea  who  subsequently  married  the  King  of  Prussia.     In 


46 


LIVES   OF  THE   QUEENS   OF  ENGI^VND. 


SOPHIA    DOROTHEA. 


47 


tending  these  two  children  the  mother  found  all  the  happiness  she 
ever  experienced  during  her  married  life.  Soon  after  the  birth 
of  the  daughter,  George  Louis  openly  neglected  and  openly  ex- 
hibited his  hatred  of  his  wife.  He  lost  no  opportunity  of  irritating 
and  outraging  her,  and  she  could  not  even  walk  through  the  rooms 
of  the  palace  which  she  called  her  home,  without  encountering  the 
abandoned  female  favorites  of  her  husband,  whose  presence  be- 
neath such  a  roof  was  the  uncleanest  of  pollutions  and  the  most 
flagrant  of  outrages. 

I  have  said  that,  in  some  respects,  the  position  of  Sophia  Doro- 
thea at  Hanover  was  not  unlike  that  of  Marie  Antoinette  at  Ver- 
sailles. This  similarity,  however,  is  perhaps  only  to  be  discovered 
in  the  circumstance  of  both  being  subjected  to  the  degradation  of 
intercourse  with  women  of  little  virtue  but  of  large  influence, — 
Marie  Antoinette  indeed,  like  Sophia  Dorothea,  married  a  prince 
■who,  at  the  best,  contemplated  his  wife  with  sui)reme  indifterence, 
but  there  was  this  ditfcrence  in  their  respective  destinies  as  mar- 
ried women :  ^laric  Antoinette  jrraduallv  overcame  her  husband's 
want  of  regard,  and  he  who  had  been  the  coldest  of  bridegrooms 
became,  in  after  years,  the  most  devoted  of  husbands  and  lovers. 
It  was  far  otherwise  with  the  wife  of  George  Louis,  The  j)oor 
show  of  enforced  ceremony  beneath  which,  during  the  first  year  of 
his  marriage,  he  hid  his  want  of  at^ection  for  a  wife  as  gentle  and 
gootl  as  she  was  fair  and  accomplished,  was  not  maintained  after 
that  period,  lie  did  not  even  give  himself  the  trouble  to  conceal 
from  her  his  daily  increasing  aversion.  She  bore  her  fierce  and 
bitter  trial  with  calm  dignity; — and  she  was  funher  unlike  Marie 
Antoinette  in  this  respect,  she  was  not  "  nearer  her  sex  than  her 
rank ;"  a  pithy  saying  of  Kivarolle's,  which  more  correctly  de- 
scribes the  wife  of  Louis  XVI.,  than  even  RivaroUe  himself  either 
suspected  or  understood. 

The  prime  mover  of  the  hatred  of  George  Louis  for  his  con- 
sort was  ]Madame  von  Platen,  and  this  fact  was  hardly  known  to 
— certainly  not  allowed  by — George  Louis  himself.  There  was 
one  thing  in  which  that  individual  had  a  fixed  belief:  his  own 
sagacity  and,  it  may  be  added,  his  own  imaginary  independence  of 
outwai-d   influences.     He  was  profound  in  some  thmgs,  but,  ad 


frequently  happens  with  persons  who  fancy  themselves  deep  in 
all,  he  was  very  shallow  in  many.  The  Dead  Sea  is  said  to  be  in 
most  places  fifteen  hundred  feet  deep,  but  there  are  spots  where 
the  lead  will  find  bottom  at  two  fathoms.  George  Louis  may  be 
compared  with  that  sea.  It  was  often  impossible  to  divine  his 
purpose,  but  quite  as  often  his  thoughts  were  as  clearly  discernible 
as  the  pebbles  in  the  bed  of  a  transparent  brook.  Madame  von 
Platen  saw  through  him  thoroughly,  and  she  employed  her  dis- 
cernment for  the  furtherance  of  her  own  detestable  objects. 

The  man  who  hated  Aristides  because  he  was  called  the 
"just,"  was  a  man  with  whose  feelings  Madame  von  Platen  could 
entertain  sympathy.  Sophia  Dorothea  had  not  merely  contrived 
to  win  the  good  opinion  of  her  mother-in-law,  but  the  warm  favor 
of  Ernest  Augustus.  That  grand  potentate  looked  upon  her  as  the 
Duchess  of  Burgundy  of  his  court.  She  was  only  so  inasmuch  as 
she  was  affectionate  and  obliging.  In  most  other  respects  it  would 
be  correct  to  compare  her  with  Pompadour  as  with  the  duchess, 
who  won  the  regard  and  penetrated  the  secrets  of  the  Grand  Mo- 
narque,  only  to  betray  both. 

The  praise  of  his  daughter-in-law  was  ever  the  theme  which 
hung  on  the  lips  of  Ernest  Augustus,  and  such  eulogy  was  as 
poison  poured  in  the  ears  of  3Iadame  von  Platen.  She  dreaded 
the  loss  of  her  own  influence  over  the  father  of  George  Louis,  and 
she  fancied  she  might  preserve  it  by  destroying  the  happiness  of 
the  wife  of  his  son.  Her  hatred  of  that  poor  lady  had  been  in- 
creased by  a  circumstance  with  which  she  could  not  be  connected, 
but  which  nearly  concerned  her  mother  the  Duchess  of  Zell. 

Ernest  Augustus  used  occasionally  to  visit  Madame  von  Platen 
at  her  own  residence.  He  was  an  imitator  of  the  way  of  life  of 
Louis  XIV\ ;  and  as  that  monarch  more  than  once  visited  a 
*'ftivorite"  with  a  military  escort  attending  him,  trumpets  herald- 
ing his  passage,  and  his  own  queen  dragged  along  in  his  train,  so 
Ernest  Augustus,  with  diminished  state,  but  with  more  than 
enough  of  publicity,  visited  :Madame  von  Platen.  He  was  more 
inclined  to  conversation  with  her  than  with  his  prime  minister,  her 
luKO^anJ ;  and  she  had  wit  enough,  if  not  worth,  to  give  warrant 
for  such  preference.    Now  and  then,  however,  the  ducal  soverei<Ti 


^Ir 


48 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


SOPHIA  DOROTHEA. 


49 


would  repair  to  pay  his  liomage  to  the  lady,  without  previous 
notice  being  forwarded  ofliis  coming ;  and  it  wa^  on  one  of  these 
oceixsions  that,  on  arriving  at  tlie  mansion,  or  in  the  gardens  of 
the  mansion  of  his  ministers  spouse,  he  found,  not  the  lady  of  the 
house,  who  was  absent,  but  her  bright-eyed,  ordinary-featured, 
and  quick-witted  handmaid,  who  bore  a  name  which  might  have 
been  given  to  such  an  otlicial  in  Elizebethan  plays,  by  Ford  or 
Fletcher.     Her  name  was  '•  Use." 

Emest  Augustus  found  the  wit  of  Use  much  to  his  taste ;  and 
the  delighted  abigail  was  peifectly  self-iwssessed,  and  more  bril- 
liant than  connnon  in  the  converse  which  she  sustained  for  the 
pleasure  of  the  sovereign,  and  lier  own  expected  profit.  She  had 
just,  it  is  supposed,  come  to  tlie  point  of  some  exquisitely  ei)igram- 
matic  tale,  for  the  prince  was  laughing  witli  his  full  heart,  and  her 
hand  in  his,  and  the  'tiring  maiden  was  as  radiant  as  successful 
wit  and  endeavor  could  make  her,  when  Madame  von  Platen  in 
terrupted  the  sparkling  colloquy  by  her  more  fiery  presence.  She 
atlected  to  be  overcome  with  indignation  at  the  boklness  of  a 
menial  who  dai-ed  to  make  merry  witli  a  sovereign  duke  ;  and 
when  poor  Use  had  been  rudely  dismissed  from  the  two  presences 
— the  one  august  and  the  other  angry — Madame  von  Platen  pro- 
bably remonstrated  with  J^rnest  Augustus,  respectfully  or  otlier- 
wise,  upon  his  deplorable  want  of  dignity  and  good  taste. 

But.  to  leave  hypothesis  for  fact,  we  know  that  revenge  cer- 
tainly followed,  whetlier  remonstrance  may  or  may  not  have  been 
otlered.  Ernest  Augustus  went  to  sojourn  for  a  time  at  one  of 
his  rural  palaces,  and  he  had  no  sooner  left  his  capital  than  Ma- 
dame von  Phitcn  committed  the  terrilied  Use  to  close  imprison- 
ment in  the  common  jail.  The  history  of  little  German  Courts, 
as  well  as  novels  and  dramas  in  their  illustrations  of  life,  and  in 
the  mirror  which  they  hold  up  to  nature,  assure  us  that  this 
exercise  and  abuse  of  i)ower  were  not  at  all  uncommon  with  the 
*' favorites"  of  German  princes.  Their  word  was  **all  potential 
as  the  duke*s,"  and  doubtless  Madame  von  Platen's  authority  was 
as  goixl  wan-ant  for  a  Hanoverian  jailer  to  hold  Use  in  custody, 
as  if  he  had  shut  up  that  maid  who  oftended  by  her  wit,  under  the 
sign  manual  of  Ernest  Augu^us  hunself. 


Use  was  kept  captive,  and  very  scurvily  treated, .until  Madame 
von  Platen  had  resolved  as  to  the  further  course  which  should  be 
ultimately  adopted  towards  her.  She  could  bring  no  charge  against 
her,  save  a  pretended  accusation  of  lightness  of  conduct,  and  im- 
morality scandalous  to  Hanoverian  decorum.  Under  this  charge 
she  had  her  old  handmaid  drummed  out  of  the  town ;  and  if  the 
elder  Duchess  Sophia  heard  the  tap  of  the  drums  which  accom- 
panied the  alleged  culprit  to  the  gates,  we  can  only  suppose  that 
she  would  have  expelled  Madame  von  Platen  to  the  same  music. 
But,  in  the  first  place,  the  wives  of  princes  were  by  no  means  so 
ix>weriul  as  their  favorites ;  and  secondly,  the  friend  of  the  philo- 
sophical Leibnitz  was  too  much  occupied  with  the  sage  to  trouble 
herself  with  the  aflairs  which  gave  concern  to  Madame  von 
Platen. 

The  present  affair,  however,  most  nearly  concerned  poor  Use, 
Avho  found  herself  outside  the  city  walls,  friendless,  penniless,  with 
a  damaged  character,  and  nothing  to  cover  it  but  the  light  costume 
whicli  she  had  worn  in  the  process  of  her  march  of  expulsion  to 
the  roll  of  *^  dry  drums."  When  she  had  found  a  refuge,  her  first 
course  was  to  apply  to  Ernest  Augustus  for  redress.  Tlie  prince, 
however,  was  at  once  oblivious,  ungrateful,  and  poweriess ;  and 
confining  himself  to  sending  to  the  poor  petitioner  a  paltry  eleemo- 
synary half-dozen  of  gold  pieces,  he  forbade  her  retuni  to  Han- 
over, and  counselled  her  to  settle  elsewhere,  and  congratulate  her- 
self that  she  hiul  not  received  even  rougher  treatment. 

Use,  periiaps,  would  have  quoted  the  Psalmist,  who  dissuades 
men  from  putting  their  trust  in  princes,  but  for  the  fact  that  she 
hoped,  even  yet,  if  not  from  a  prince,  to  find  succor  from  a  princess. 
She  accordingly  made  full  statement  of  her  case  to  the  Duchess  of 
Zell ;  and  that  lady,  deeming  the  case  one  of  iDcculiar  hardship, 
and  the  penalty  inflicted  on  a  giddy  giri  too  unmeasured  for  the 
pardonable  offence  of  amusing  an  old  prince  who  encouraged  her 
to  the  task,  af^er  much  consideration,  due  weighing  of  the  state- 
ment, and  befitting  inquir}-,  took  the  offender  into  her  own  service, 
and  gave  to  the  exiled  Hanoverian  a  refuge,  asylum,  and  employ- 
ment in  ZeU. 

These  iire  but  smaU  pohtics,  but  they  illustrate  the  nature  of 

3 


I. 


60 


LIVES  OF  TUE  QUEENS    OF  ENGLAND. 


SOPHIA  DOROTHEA. 


51 


things  as  they  then  existed,  in  by-gone  days,  at  little  Gennan 
courts.  They  had,  moreover,  no  small  influence  on  the  happiness 
of  Sophia  Dorothea.  Madame  von  Platen  was  enraged  that  the 
mother  of  that  princess  should  have  dared  to  give  a  home  to  one 
whom  she  had  condemned  to  be  homeless  ;  and  she  in  consequence 
is  suspected  of  having  been  fired  with  the  more  satanic  zeal  to 
make  desolate  the  home  of  the  young  wife.  She  adopted  the  most 
efficient  means  to  arrive  at  such  an  end.  It  was  the  period  when 
Sophia  Dorothea  had  just  become  the  mother  of  a  daughter  who 
bore  her  name,  and  who  was  subsequently  Queen-consort  of 
Prussia.  It  was  from  this  period  that  George  Louis  openly 
treated  his  wife  with  contempt,  and  the  evil  genius  by  whom  he 
wiis  most  influenced  was  Madame  von  Platen. 

The  first  attempt  to  estrange  him  permanently  from  Sophia 
Dorothea  was  made  through  her  sister,  Madame  von  Busche. 
The  latter  lady,  previous  to  her  marriage  with  the  tutor  of  George 
Louis,  had  endeavored  with  some  slight  success,  to  fascmate  his 
pupil.  She  embniced  with  alacrity  the  mission  with  which  she 
was  charged,  again  to  throw  such  meshes  of  fascination  as  she  was 
possessed  of  lU'ound  the  heart  of  the  not  over  susceptible  prince. 
If  endeavor  could  merit  or  achieve  success,  the  attempt  of  this 
would-be  charmer  would  have  deserved,  and  would  have  accom- 
plished, a  triumph.  But  George  Louis  stolidly  refused  to  be 
charmed,  and  ^ladame  von  Busche  gave  up  the  attempt  in  a  sort 
of  offended  despair.  Iler  sister,  like  a  true  genius,  fertile  in 
expedients,  and  prepared  for  every  emergency,  bethought  herself 
of  a  simple  circumstance,  whereby  she  hoped  to  attain  her  ends. 
She  remembered  that  George  Louis,  though  short  himself  of 
stature,  had  a  predilection  for  tall  women.  At  the  next  fete  at 
which  he  was  present  at  the  nuuision  of  Madame  von  Platen,  he 
was  enchanted  by  a  may-pole  of  a  young  lady,  with  a  name 
almost  as  long  as  her  person — it  was  Ennengarda  Melusina  von 
Schulemberg. 

She  wa^  more  shrewd  than  witty,  this  "  tall  mawkin,"  as  the 
Electress  Sophia  once  called  the  lofty  Ermengarda ;  and,  tis 
George  Louis  was  neither  witty  himself,  nor  much  cared  for  wit 
in  others,  she  was  the  better  enabled  to  estabUsh  herself  in  the 


most  worthless  of  hearts  that  ever  beat  beneath  an  embroidered 
vest.     She  was  an  inimitable  flatterer,  and  in  this  way  she  fooled 
her  victim  to  "  the  very  top  of  his  bent."     She  exquisitely  cajoled 
him,  and  with  exquisite  carelessness  did  he  surrender  himself  to 
be  cajoled.     Gradually,  by  watching  his  inclinations,  anticipating 
his  wishes,  admiring  even  his  coarseness,  and  lauding  it  as  can- 
dor, she  so  won  upon  the  lazily  excited  feehngs  of  George  Louis, 
that  he  began  to  think  her  presence  indispensable  to  his  well- 
being.     If  he  hunted,  she  was   in  the  field,  the  nearest  to  his 
saddle-bow.     If  he  went  out  to  walk  alone,  he  invariably  fell  in. 
with  Ennengarda.     At  the  Court  theatre,  when  he  was  present, 
the  next  conspicuous  object  was  the  towering  von  Schulemberg, 
like  Mademoiselle  Georges,  "  in  all  her  diamonds,"  beneath  the 
glare  of  which,  and  the  blazing  impudence  of  their  wearer,  the 
modest   Sophia   Dorothea    was    almost    extinguished.      Doubly 
authorized  would  she  have  been,  as  she  looked  at  her  unworthy 
husband,  to   have   exclaimed,   as  Alfieri   afterwards  did   in   his 
autobiography : — 

"  O  picciola  cosa  e  pur  Tuomo." 

It  is  said  of  the  robe  originally  worn  by  the  prophet  3Iahomet 
and  reverently  preserved  at  Mecca,  that  it  was  annually  washed 
in  a  tub  of  clear  water,  which  was  subsequently  duly  bottled  off 
and  sent  as  holy  water  to  the  various  princes  of  Islam.  A  fashion 
alleged  to  have  been  adopted  by  Madame  von  Platen  is  recalled 
to  memory  by  this  matter  of  the  prophet's  robe. 

That  estimable  person  had  announced  a  festival,  to  be  cele- 
brated at  her  mansion,  which  was  to  surpass  in  splendor  any- 
thing that  had  ever  been  witnessed  by  the  existing  generation. 
The  occasion  was  the  marriage  of  her  sister,  Madame  von  Busche, 
who  had  worried  the  poor  ex-tutor  of  George  Louis  into  the  grave, 
with  General  Wreyke,  a  gallant  soldier,  equal,  it  would  -eem,  to 
any  feat  of  daring.  "Whenever  Madame  von  Platen  designed  to 
aj)pear  with  more  than  ordinary  brilliancy  in  her  own  person,  she 
was  accustomed  to  indulge  in  the  extravagant  luxury  of  a  milk 
bath  ;  and  it  was  added  by  the  satirical  or  the  scandalous,  that  the 
milk  which  had  thus  lent  softness  to  her  skin  was  charitably  dis- 


Hi 


52 


LIVE3  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


tributed  among  the  poor  of  the  district  Avherein  she  occasionally 
affected  to  play  the  character  of  Dorcas. 

Be  this  fable  or  not— and  very  strange  things  were  done  in  the 
old-fashioned  circles  of  Germany  in  those  days— the  fete  and  the 
giver  of  it  were  not  only  to  be  of  a  splendor  that  had  never  been 
equalled,  but  George  Louis  had  promised  to  grace  it  with  his 
presence,  and  had  even  pledged  himself,  to  "  walk  a  measure " 
with  the  irresistible  Ennengarda  ^Melusina  von  Schulemberg. 
Madame  von  Platen  thought  that  her  cup  of  joy  and  pride  and 
revenge  would  be  complete  and  full  to  the  brim,  if  she  could  suc- 
ceed in  bringing  Sophia  Dorothea  to  the  misery  of  witnessing  a 
spectacle,  the  only  true  significance  of  which  was  that  the  faithless 
George  Louis  publicly  acknowledged  the  gigantic  Ermengarda  for 
his  "  favorite." 

There  was  more  activity  employed  to  encompass  the  desired  end 
than  if  the  aim  in  view  had  been  one  of  good  purpose.  It  so  far 
succeeded  that  Sophia  Dorothea  intimated  her  intention  of  being 
present  at  the  festival  given  by  Madame  von  Platen ;  and  when 
the  latter  lady  received  the  desired  and  welcome  intelligence,  she 
was  conscious  of  an  enjoyment  that  seemed  to  her  an  antepast  of 

Pai*adise. 

The  eventful  night  at  length  arrived.  The  bride  had  exchanged 
rinn-s  with  the  bridejiroom,  conjrnitulations  had  been  dulv  paid,  and 
the  floor  was  ready  for  the  dancers,  and  nothing  lacked  but  the 
presence  of  Sophia  Dorothea.  There  walked  the  proudly  eminent 
von  Schulemberg,  looking  blandly  down  upon  George  Louis,  who 
held  her  by  the  hand ;  and  there  stood  the  impatient  von  Platen, 
ea'^er  that  the  wife  of  that  liprht-oMove  cavalier  should  arrive,  and 
be  crushed  by  the  spectacle.  Still  she  came  not ;  and  finally  her 
lady  of  honor,  the  Countess  von  Knesebeck,  arrived,  not  as  her 
attendant,  but  her  representative,  with  excuses  for  the  non-appear- 
ance of  her  mistress,  whom  indL;  posit  ion  (unfeigned  indisposition  to 
be  a  witness  of  a  suspected  sight)  detained  at  her  own  hearth. 

The  course  of  the  festival  was  no  longer  delayed ;  in  it  the  bride 
and  bridegroom  were  forgotten,  and  George  and  Ennengarda  were 
the  hero  and  heroine  of  the  hour.  After  that  hour,  no  one  doubted 
as  to  the  bad  eminence  achieved  by  that  lady ;  and  so  naiTowly 


SOPHIA  DOROTHEA. 


53 


and  sharply  observant  was  the  lynx-eyed  von  Knesebeck  of  all  that 
passed  between  her  mistress'  husband  and  that  husband's  mistress, 
that  when  she  retunied  to  her  duties  of  dame  d'atours,  she  unfolded 
a  narrative  that  inflicted  a  stab  in  every  phrase,  and  tore  the  heart 
of  the  despairing  listener. 

But  court  life  in  Germany  was  at  this,  as  also  at  an  earlier  and 
till  a  later  period,  one  of  unmixed  extravagance  and  viciousness. 
A  few  of  the  social  traits  of  such  Ufe  will  be  found  in  the  next 
chapter. 


CHAPTER  V. 


COURT    LIFE    IX    GERMANY THE    ELECTORATE    OF   HANOVER. 

The  extravagance  of  Madame  von  Platen,  mentioned  in  the  last 
chapter,  was  a  reflex  of  that  which  made  some  of  the  sovereign! 
courts  of  her  day  most  sadly  illustrious.  Louis  XIV.  was  not  the 
only  monarch  guilty  of  impoverishing  the  people  by  living  in  a 
splendor  which  made  his  country  bankrupt.  The  German  courts 
needed  not,  and  did  not  turn  to  France  for  a  precedent  of  superb 
wickedness^  The  imperial  household  at  Vienna  was  a  high  school, 
whereat  the  minor  potentates  of  Germany  might  take  degrees  in 
extravagance  and  profligacy.  Not  less  than  forty  thousand  indi- 
viduals were  attached  to  the  service  of  that  house,  and  the  licen- 
tious habits  and  coarse  tone  of  the  majority  of  these  servants  of  the 
Emperor,  from  the  noble  to  the  lacquey,  not  only  had  an  ill  eff*ect 
upon  contemporary  society,  but  may  be  said  to  be  felt  even  now  in 
Vienna ;  the  most  dissolute  capital  in  Europe,  where  the  aristo- 
cracy point  in  scorn  to  the  citizens  as  abandoned  to  vice,  and  the 
citizens  scowl  at  the  aristocrary  as  the  setters  of  bad  example. 

In  the  times  of  which  I  am  treating,  there  was  not  the  minutest 
count  holding  sovereignty  over  a  few  acres  who  did  not  maintain 
an  ambassadorial  estabUshment  at  Vienna,  the  expenses  of  which 
swallowed  up  a  very  considerable  portion  of  the  state  represented. 
These  legates  of  their  lords,  and  often  with  their  lords,  and  these 
lords'  "ladies"  in  their  company,  were  busily  employed  in  the 


54 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


SOPHIA  DOROTHEA. 


55 


imperial  city  in  the  solemn  occupations  of  feasting,  drinking,  dan- 
cinff,  jrazinj;  at  fireworks,  and  other  business  which  will  less  bear 
mentioning.  Two  hogsheads  of  Tokay  wine  were  daily  consumed 
for  soaking  the  bread  which  wiis  given  to  the  imperial  parrots ! 
The  Empress'  nightly  possets  required  twelve  gallons  of  the  same 
wine.  Not  that  the  imperial  appetite  was  equal  to  such  consump- 
tion, but  that  the  kitchen  supplied  that  quantity  to  the  household 
generally ;  for  in  the  eighteenth  century  a  German  noble  or  his 
consort  no  more  thought  of  going  to  sleep  without  the  "  sacrament- 
al "  posset,  than  an  English  squire  of  the  same  period. 

I  have  alluded  in  another  page  to  the  "protector"  of  the  sister 
of  Count  Kunigsmark,  Augustus  the  Strong, — strong  in  everything 
but  virtue,  and  utterly  worthless  as  man  or  monarch  in  all  beside. 
His  reign,  after  he  became  king  of  l*oland,  was  a  long  course  of 
brutal  excess  in  every  shape,  and,  in  some  cases,  outraging  nature 
as  much  as  was  done  in  the  brutal  excesses  of  Caligula.  lie  left 
behind  him  three  hundred  and  fifty-two  children  dependent  on  the 
state,  but  whose  claims  the  state  soon  refused  to  recognize. 

His  extravagant  taste  exceeded  that  even  of  the  masters  of  Vi- 
enna or  Versailles.  In  honor  of  Maria  Aurora  Kiinigsmark,  the 
queen  of  the  harem,  and  the  only  "favorite"  of  this  crowned  brute 
that  ever  retained  in  her  bad  eminence  the  refinement  of  character 
and  conduct  which  had  distinguished  her  before  her  elevation ;  in 
lionor  of  this  "  favorite  "  he  gave  a  festival  on  the  Elbe,  at  which 
Neptune  appeared  in  a  sea-shell  (in  very  shallow  water,)  sur- 
rounded by  a  fleet  of  frigates,  gondolas,  and  gun-boats,  all  of  true 
model  dimensions,  and  maimed  by  crews  who  mijrht  have  suno^  in 
chorus  the  song  from  La  Promise,  "  ma  teste,  ma  vesfe"  so  gay 
glorious,  glittering,  and  unseamanlike  were  they,  in  their  satin 
jackets,  their  silk  stockings,  and  their  paste-diamond  shoe-buckles. 

Soldiei-s,  or  civilians  in  the  masquerade  of  soldiers  of  all  nations 
under  the  sun,  and  all  splendidly  attired,  lined  the  banks  of  the 
river.  The  festival  lasted  throughout  a  long  day,  and  when  night 
set  in,  a  huge  allegorical  picture,  occupying  six  thousand  yards, 
nearly  four  miles  of  canvas,  was  illuminated  by  blazing  piles  of 
odoriferous  woods  ;  and  there  was  squandered  that  day,  in  honor 


of  a  royal  concubine,  as  much  wealth  as  would  have  fed  and  clothed 
all  the  hungry  and  destitute  in  Dresden  for  a  whole  year. 

Nor  was  this  a  solitary  instance  of  the  profligate  extravagance 
of  this  monarch.  On  the  occasion  of  a  visit  to  his  court  by  Fred- 
erick William  of  Prussia,  and  the  Crown  Prince,  he  expended  five 
thousand  dollars  in  porcelain  vases  for  the  adornment  of  their  bed- 
chambers, and  gave  them  a  gypsy  party  at  Muhlberg,  where  the 
rural  amusenlents  of  a  few  hours  absorbed  not  less  than  three  mil- 
lions of  dollars. 

But  Augustus  delighted  in  monster  fetes,  with  all  sorts  of  mon- 
ster appliances  ;  and  one  of  these  gigantic  festivals  is  spoken  of,  at 
which  a  cake  was  placed  before  the  guests  twenty-eight  feet  long 
by  twelve  bi*oad,  the  sides  of  which  w^ere  cut  into  by  a  gaudy  offi- 
cial, armed  with  a  silver  axe.  Into  the  lap  of  one  of  his  favorites, 
Augustus  poured  no  less  a  sum  than  twenty  millions  of  dollars. 
The  fortunate  recipient  was  the  Countess  von  Kosel.  He  spent 
the  same  sum  in  welcoming  to  his  dominions  the  daughter  of  the 
Emperor  Joseph  I.,  newly  espoused  to  his  son.  The  festivities 
were  "  stupendous,"  in  character,  duration,  and  extravagance.  He 
met  the  bride  with  a  whole  army  at  his  back  to  give  her  welcome ; 
and  a  host,  nearly  as  large,  of  courtiers,  players,  minstrels,  and  dan- 
cers, all  exerting  themselves  in  their  several  capacities  to  win  a 
smile  of  approbation  from  the  lady,  who  looked  in  melancholy  on 
the  show. 

She  must  have  been  weary  of  it  ere  it  was  half  over,  for  it  drag- 
ged on,  in  gorgeous  ponderosity,  through  a  whole  month.  Day 
after  day  the  festival  was  renewed,  and  there  was  more  revelry  in 
Dresden  than  there  was  in  Babylon  when  Alexander  entered  it  J 
and  of  much  the  same  degree  of  uncleanness  too.  To  crown  the 
whole,  Augustus  and  his  court  appeared  in  the  guise  of  heathen 
deities ;  thus  rivalling  that  Augustus  of  Rome  and  his  friends,  who 
sat  down  to  the  banquet,  in  the  likeness  of  the  gods  and  goddesses 
of  Olympus, — less  dignified,  indeed,  than  they,  but  twice  as  beastly. 

His  conduct  might  fairly  be  described  as  that  of  a  maniac,  were 
it  not  for  one  circumstance.  He  flung  gold  about  with  a  reckless 
prodigality  that  betokened  insanity,  but  it  must  l>e  remembered, 
that,  at  the  very  period  of  his  doing  so,  he  entertained  the  convic- 


'i 


66 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


SOPHTA   DOROTHEA. 


57 


tion,  that  he  was  on  the  point  of  tearing  the  veil  before  the  great 
ai-eunura  of  chemistry,  mastering  the  knowledge  connected  with 
the  transmutation  of  metals,  and  becoming  tlie  maker  of  gold,  to 
an  extent  limited  only  by  his  necessities. 

For  this  purpose  he  maintained  an  alchemist  in  his  palace.  The 
professional  gentleman,  so  calling  himself,  was  right  royally  lodged 
as  regarded  his  person,  and  right  proiusely  provided  as  respected 
his  vocation.  His  apartments  were  furnished  with  a  splendor  that 
might  have  dazzled  an  emi)eror,  and  his  laboratory  was  a  glitter- 
ing chaos  of  costly  vessels,  means,  and  appliances, — such  as  befit- 
ted the  arclwleceiver  of  a  king  foolish  enough  to  be  deceived. 

The  experiments  were  being  carried  on  while  Augustus  was 
as  insanely  experimenting  on  the  patience  of  his  people.  The 
alchemist,  however,  soon  encountered  a  swifter  and  more  hideous 
ruin  than  ultimately  fell  upon  the  head  of  Augustus  himself.  His 
patron  became  impatient,  and  more  exacting  than  ever ;  the  magi- 
cian more  tricky,  more  boastful  of  success,  and  less  satisfactory  m 
realization  of  his  boasting.  His  specimens  were  pronounced  coun- 
tei-feit,  his  gold  was  scornfully  rejected  by  the  goldsmiths  of  the 
capital,  and,  detected  as  a  cheat,  he  was  beheaded  by  the  order 
of  him  who  had  hoped  to  profit  by  his  address. 

Dres<U'n  is  yet  strewn  with  the  gorgeous  wrecks  of  the  profli- 
gate reign  of  Augustus.  The  "Green  Vaults"  of  the  palace, 
crowded  as  they  are  with  gems  and  jewellery,  and  rich  metals 
wrought  into  grotesque  figures ;  the  huge  ostrich  cups,  the  gigan- 
tic pearls,  the  musical  clocks,  and  toys  and  trifles,  for  which  a 
"king's  ransom"  was  less  than  the  purchase  money,  should  awake 
in  the  mind  of  the  beholder  not  so  much  of  admiration  for  the  col- 
lection, as  of  disgust  and  amazement  at  the  thoughtless  extrava- 
gance of  him  who  acquired  it  with  the  money  entrusted  to  his  dis- 
honest stewardship.  If  the  memory  of  Augustus  the  Strong  can 
ever  Ix*  dwelt  upon  with  any  measure  of  respect,  it  is  perhaps 
when  the  visitor  at  Dresden  contem])lates  the  gallery  of  pictures 
there,  of  which  he  was  the  founder.  In  his  profligate  expenditure 
he  had  a  worthy  imitator  in  Count  Briihl,  the  minister  of  his  indo- 
lent son  and  successor,  Augustus  III.  His  wardrobe  could  have 
supplied  half  the  great  families  in  Europe  with  costumes ;  his  col- 


lection of  embroidered  shoes  was  a  sight  for  all  Saxony ;  and  his 
museum  of  Parisian  wigs,  arranged  in  chronological  order,  was  the 
pride  of  all  the  petit-maltres  who  were  curious  in  peruques. 

The  court  of  Bavaria  at  the  beginning  of  the  last  century  set  no 
better  example  to  the  })eople,  on  whose  love  and  allegiance  it  made 
a  claim  that  was  but  scurvily  reverenced.  The  little  and  delicate 
electress,  Maria  Amelia,  had  the  propensities  of  a  gigantic  rouL 
She  was  delicate  only  in  person,  not  in  mind ;  but  mind  and  body 
were  similarly  ".little"  in  other  respects.  She  wtis  an  excellent 
shot,  followed  the  chase  with  the  zest  of  the  keenest  sportsman, 
and  would  toil  half  the  day,  across  ridge  and  furrow,  or  up  to  her 
knees  in  mud,  in  pursuit  of  the  game  among  which  she  made  such 
deadly  havoc.  At  these  times,  and  often  when  the  occasion  was 
not  warrant  for  the  fashion,  she  appeared  in  public  in  male  attire, 
generally  of  green  cloth,  her  brilliant  complexion  heightened  by  a 
brilliantly  powdered  white  peruque.  She  loved  dogs  as  well  as 
she  did  men,  rather  better  perhaps  on  the  whole ;  and  was  never 
more  pleased  than  when  she  dined  in  no  better  company  than  with 
a  dozen  of  these  canine  favorites,  whose  unceremonious  clearing 
of  the  dishes,  before  their  hostess  could  help  herself,  only  excited 
her  hearty  laughter. 

There  were  occasions,  however,  on  which  she  was  given  to  any- 
thing rather  than  laughter,  and  chiefly  when  she  encountered  the 
favorites  of  her  husband.  On  these  she  had  no  mercy ;  and  her 
dog-whip  was  more  than  once  applied  to  the  shoulders  of  shame- 
less rivals, — which  had  perhaps  better  have  been  applied  to  those 
of  the  unworthy  husband,  on  whose  smiles  and  hard  gold  they 
lived  in  splendid  infamy. 

Other  German  courts  were  marked  and  disgraced  by  scenes  of 
similar  profligacy ;  and  that  of  Hanover  forms  no  exception, 
although  it  ceased  sooner  than  the  others  to  be  so  distinguished. 
This  desirable  consummation  was  not  a  result  of  greater  cleanli- 
ness of  manner,  but  of  a  transportation  of  the  uncleanliness  to 
another  locality ;  and  the  court  of  Hanover  no  longer  presented  an 
evil  example  to  the  people,  because  at  a  later  period  George  I., 
the  unworthy  husband  of  Sophia  Dorothea,  removed  in  1714, 

3* 


^ 


58 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF   ENGLAND. 


S0PHL4  DOROTHEA. 


59 


"  with  all  liis  mistresses,"  to  this,  the  favored  country,  which  was 
hardly  grateful  for  the  acquisition. 

The  lack  of  gratitude  was  made  manifest  enough  by  the  reply 
of  '^  First  Citizen,"  in  a  dramatic  tumult  in  the  street  raised  by  the 
arrogance  of  these  women.  '*  Worthy  folks ! "  said  one  of  them  in 
broken  English,  "we  come  here  for  all  your  goods," — **Yes!" 
roared  "  First  Citizen,"  "  and  for  all  our  chattels  too,"  a  remark 
not  far  from  the  truth ;  for  the  mistresses  of  the  first  two  Georges 
were  supported  out  of  the  funds  raised  by  taxation  of  the  i)eople. 
But  we  are  anticipating  events. 

The  ecclesiastical  princes  were  not  a  jot  behind  their  secular 
highnesses  in  ghiring  infamy  of  conduct.  They  scorned  and  out- 
raged public  opinion,  as  they  did  the  laws  against  clerical  luxury 
and  immorality  enacted  by  the  Council  of  Trent.  The  debauchery 
and  profligacy  of  the  higher  orders  of  the  priesthood  (mostly  sons 
of  princely  families)  were  appallhig.  An  instance  of  their  unseem- 
liness of  conduct  has  been  cited  from  Dlucos'  Memoirs^  wherein 
mention  is  made  of  a  want  of  decency  manifested  by  the  Prince 
Archbishop  of  Cologne,  when  that  electoral  dignitary  was  sojourn- 
ing at  Versailles.  He  gave  notice  that  he  would  preach  in  the 
Royal  Chapel  on  the  1st  of  April,  when  a  large  and  august  audi- 
tory assembled  to  do  -honor  to  the  occasion.  The  preacher,  we 
are  told,  ascended  the  pulpit,  and  bowed  gravely  to  the  audience ; 
then  shouting,  "April  fools  all  I"  he  ran  down  the  stairs  amidst  the 
laughter  of  the  court,  and  the  clang  of  horns,  trumi)ets,  and  kettle- 
drums. 

It  was  a  strange  time,  when  men  were  allowed  to  have  their 
particular  views,  and  women  their  peculiar  faults,  without  much 
censure  resulmig,  provided  they  respected  certain  limits.  In  this 
they  were  like  the  pagans,  among  whom  a  woman  might  swear 
for  ever  by  Castor,  and  a  man  only  by  Hercules,  while  uEdepol 
was  an  execratory  phrase  common  to  both. 

Among  the  instances  of  Gennan  social  life  in  the  higher  classes 
at  this  period,  may  be  cited  the  case  of  the  Duke  of  Mecklcnburg- 
Schwerin,  who,  driven  out  of  his  dukedom  by  the  hatred  of  his 
oppressed  subjects,  took  up  his  residence  in  Paris,  about  the  year 
1G72.     The  duke  had  been  married  to  a  Protestant  princess,  of 


whom  growing  weary,  he  divorced  himself  from  her,  for  no  other 
reason  than  that  he  had  seen  a  Catholic  princess  who  pleased  him, 
for  the  moment,  better  than  his  own  wife.  '  He  married  this  second 
lady,  after  first  making. public  profession  of  his  conversion  to  the 
Church  of  Rome.  Not  a  very  long  period  had  elapsed  before  he 
became  more  weary  of  the  new  love  than  he  had  ever  been  of  the 
old.  He  was  as  tired  of  the  faith,  by  accepting  which  he  had 
gained  the  lady ;  and  in  an  affected  horror  of  having  committed 
some  terrible  sin,  he  immediately  set  about  procuring  a  divorce. 
It  Wits  no  difficult  matter ;  and  no  less  a  man,  judge  and  philoso- 
pher, than  the  great  "  Leibnitz,"  less  influenced,  it  is  said,  by  a 
desire  to  disarm  his  foe  than  by  certain  juristic  sophistries,  decided 
in  favor  of  the  divorce,  in  violation  of  all  law,  and  to  the  ineffable 
disgust  of  all  honest  men. 

But  if  princes  and  people  were  forgetful  of  duty,  it  was,  perhaps, 
in  part  at  least,  because  their  teachers,  priests  and  philosophers 
either  failed  to  instruct  them,  or  neglected  to  make  example  add 
double  force  to  precept.  There  was  no  man  m  Hanover  so  hon- 
ored as  this  Leibnitz ;  but  he  was  honored  more  for  his  intellec- 
tual than  his  moral  worth.  There  had  been  no  more  unreserved 
eulogist  and  flatterer  of  Louis  XIV.  than  he,  but  at  the  bidding  of 
Ernest  Augustus,  who  had  acquired  reputation  as  patriot  and  gen- 
ei-al  by  the  share  he  had  taken  in  the  war  against  France,  Leib- 
nitz attacked  the  Grand  Monarque  in  a  satirical  pam})hlet,  entitled 
"  The  !^Iost  Christian  Mars,"  in  which  he  miserably  succeeded  in 
showing  how  wittily  a  clever  man  might  argue  against  his  own 
convictions. 

The  father-in-law  of  Sophia  Dorothea  deserves  to  have  it  said 
of  him  that,  however  immoral  a  man  he  may  have-been,  he  was  a 
more  honest  man  than  Leibnitz.  When  Ernest  Augustus  was  as- 
piring to  the  Electorate,  and  the  Emperor  was  as  desirous  to  form 
an  united  empire  of  amalgamated  Catholics  ^nd  Protestants,  Leib^ 
nitz,  to  further  the  duke's  purpose,  wrote  a  pamphlet  on  the  points 
of  difference  between  the  two  churches,  and  on  the  principles  which  ^ 
should  form  the  basis  and  the  bonds  of  a  common  religion  and  a 
common  church.  The  Protestant  philosopher  preferred  to  publish 
this  pamphlet  anonymou.-ly,  a,s  the  author  of  it  so  framed  his  argur 


60 


LIVES  OF  TIIK    QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


SOPHIA   DOROTHEA. 


61 


ments  as  to  let  his  readers  suppose  that  he  was  a  Catholic.  The 
duke  refused  to  sanction  this  dishonesty,  and  the  pamphlet  was  not 
published  until  after  the  author's  death.  It  appeared  as  the  *'  The- 
ological System"  of  Leibnitz,  and  there  was  not  an  argument  in 
it  which  was  the  result  of  that  author's  conviction.  It  was  the 
boast  of  this  philosoj)her,  that  he  was  autodidactos, — self-taught. 
As  pupil,  it  must  be  confessed,  that  he  sometimes  had  but  a  very 
inditlerent  preceptor. 

"While  on  the  subject  of  social  traits  of  the  period,  I  may  not  in- 
aptly notice  one  in  England.  I  have  already  observed,  that  on  tiie 
arrival  of  George  Louis  in  England,  to  ask  for  the  hand  of  the 
Prmcess  Aime,  he  was  indebted  to  his  gouty,  and  still  fiery  uncle 
Rupert,  for  some  attentions.  In  1C83,  the  gallant  prince  died  too 
poor  to  leave  wherewith  to  pay  his  debts.  A  plan  was  accordingly 
proposed,  whereby  the  necessary  sum  was  to  be  raised  by  the  dis- 
posing of  the  prince's  jewels  by  lottery.  There  had,  however,  been 
60  much  clieating  practised  in  matters  of  this  sort,  that  the  i)ublic 
would  take  no  shares  in  this  particular  and  princely  lottery,  unless 
the  king  himself  would  guarantee  that  all  should  be  conducted  fairly 
and  honestly,  and  also  that  Mr.  Francis  Child,  the  then  eminent 
goldsmith  and  banker  of  Temple  Bar,  should  be  responsible  for  the 
"respection  adventures;"  that  is,  the  genuineness  of  tlie  tickets. 
This  stipulation  pro})osed  by  the  public,  appears  to  have  been  ac- 
cepted by  the  government,  for  in  the  London  Gazette  of  October  1 

1683,  there  is  tm  advertisement,  which  runs  as  follows: '•  These 

are  to  give  notice,  that  the  jewels  of  his  late  i-oyal  highness.  Prince 
Rupert,  have  been  particularly  valued  by  :Mr.  Isaac  Legouche,  Mr. 
Christopher  Rosse,  and  Mr.  Richard  Beauvoir,  jewellers,~the 
whole  amounting  to  twenty  thousand  pounds,  and  will  be  sold  by 
way  of  lottery ;  each  lot  to  be  live  pounds.  The  biggest  prize  wiU 
be  a  great  pearl  necklace,  valued  at  3,000/.,  and  none  less  than 
100/.  A  printed  particular  of  each  appraisement,  with  their  divi- 
sions into  lots,  will  be  delivered  gratis  by  Mr.  Francis  Child,  of 
Temple  Bar,  London,  into  whose  hands,  such  as  are  willinc.  to  be 
adventurers,  are  desired  to  pay  their  money,  on  or  before  tie  1st 
day  of  November  next.  As  soon  as  the  whole  sum  is  paid  in  a 
short  day  will  be  appointed  (which,  it  is  hoped,  will  be  ])efore 


Christmas,)  and  notified  in  the  Gazette,  for  the  drawing  thereof, 
which  will  be  done  in  his  Majesty's  presence,  who  is  pleased  to  de- 
clare that  he  liimself  will  see  all  the  prizes  put  in  among  the  blanks, 
and  that  the  whole  will  be  managed  with  equity  and  fairness,  noth- 
ing being  intended  but  the  sale  of  the  said  jewels  at  a  moderate 
value.  And  it  is  further  notified,  for  the  satisfaction  of  all  as  shall 
be  adventurers,  that  the  said  Mr.  Child  shall  and  will  stand  obliged 
to  each  of  them  for  their  several  adventures ;  and  that  each  adven- 
turer shall  receive  their  (sic)  money  back,  if  the  said  lottery  be  not 
drawn  and  finished  before  the  first  day  of  February  next."  At  a 
later  period,  the  Gazette  announces,  that  "  the  king  will  probably, 
to-morrow,  in  the  Banqueting  House,  see  all  the  blanks  told  over, 
that  they  may  not  exceed  their  number,  and  that  the  papers  on 
which  the  prizes  are  to  be  written  shall  be  rolled  up  in  his  presence, 
and  that  a  child,  appointed  either  by  his  Majesty  or  the  adventu- 
rers, shall  draw  the  prizes."  If  the  king  had  never  done  worse 
than  to  preside  at  the  drawing  of  a  lottery  for  the  payment  of  the 
debts  of  his  cousin,  the  uncle  of  George  Louis,  we  might  say  that 
he  was  undignified,  but  not  that  he  was,  as  he  realli/  was,  ignoble 
and  graceless ;  more  refined,  perhaps,  but  not  less  debauched,  than 
Augustus  of  Saxony. 

But,  to  return  finally  to  Hanover:  while  Sophia  Dorothea  was 
daily  growing  more  unhappy,  her  father-in-law  was  growing  more 
ambitious,  and  the  prospects  of  her  husband  more  brilliant.  The 
younger  branch  of  Brunswick  was  outstripping  the  elder  in  dignity, 
and  not  merely  an  electoral  but  a  kingly  crown  seemed  the  prize 
they  were  destined  to  attain.  A  few  brief  paragraphs  will  serve  to 
show  how  this  was  effected,  before  we  once  more  take  up  the  per- 
sonal history  of  Sophia  Dorothea. 

Whatever  opinion  may  be  formed  with  respect  to  the  opinions 
and  feelings  of  the  Hanover  family  in  reference  to  its  being  recog- 
nized in  the  line  of  legal  succession  to  the  Crown  of  England,  it  is 
pretty  well  ascertained,  that  Burnet  was  the  first,  and  probably  not 
without  being  commissioned  to  the  task,  who  seriously  opened  the 
subject  with  the  family,  and  that  through  the  Hanoverian  minister 
at  the  Hague.  Burnet,  in  168G,  was  residing  at  the  latter  place, 
the  friend  and  agent  of  William  of  Orange,  and  one  of  the  most  ac- 


I* 


LIVES  OF  TUE   QUEEXS  OF  ENGLAND. 


tive  adversaries  of  James  IL,  whose  aversion  and  perhaps  dread 
of  that  busy  ecclesiastic  were  not  without  foundation. 

In  the  year  168G,  the  Iliuioverian  minister  at  the  Hague  was 
acting  in  strict  obedience  to  the  orders  of  his  master,  Ernest  Augus- 
tus, by  rather  supporting  than  opposing  the  ambitious  views  of 
France.  Louis  XIV.  had  so  desfraded  Ensrltrnd  as  to  make  Charles 
II.  his  pensionary,  and  the  French  monarch  now  looked  upon  James 
as  his  ally,  ready  to  follow  whithersoever  the  King  of  France  was 
disposed  to  lead  the  way.  Tlie  union  of  these  two  Roman  Catholic 
monarchs,  if  carried  out  to  the  ends  contemplated  by  them,  threat- 
ened both  the  religious  and  civil  liberties  of  every  country  over 
which  their  influence  could  be  made  to  extend.  It  was  especially 
threatening  to  the  princes  of  the  Protestant  faith,  and  particularly 
so  to  Holland.  To  destroy  this  union  would  be  not  only  to  rescue 
Holland  from  the  perils  which  threatened  her,  but  would  perhaps 
open  the  throne  of  England  to  a  Protestant  i)rince.  This  prince 
could  not  be  looked  for  in  the  line  of  Charles  I.,  for  the  children  of 
his  daughter,  the  Duchess  of  Orleans,  were  Romanists,  whereas 
failing  other  branches  of  the  family,  the  probable  nature  of  which 
failure  has  already  been  adverted  to ;  the  line  which  might  hope  to 
inherit  the  crown  was  to  be  found  in  the  immediate  descendants  of 
James  I.,  through  his  daughter,  Elizabeth,  the  Queen  of  Bohemia, 
wiiose  daughter  Sophia  was  married  to  Ernest  Augustus  of  Han- 
over. 

When  Buniet  found  the  minister  of  the  latter  prince  offending 
the  States-General  of  Holland  by  his  tacit  support  of  the  views  of 
France,  he  at  once  saw  the  false  i>o.-ition  of  the  minister  who  was 
acting  in  obedience  to  the  instructions  of  his  master,  but  in  opposi- 
tion to  his  own  sentiments.  It  was  no  difficult  task  for  Burnet  to 
prove  to  this  diplomatist,  that  by  supi)orting  the  views  of  France 
he  was  destroying  the  prospects  of  Hanover ;  whereas  if  it  was  his 
desire  to  promote  the  influence  and  glory,  and  to  elevate  the  for- 
tunes of  the  latter  house,  his  course  was  clear,  simple,  patriotic,  and 
profitable.  Opposition  to  Fmnce,  on  the  part  of  Hanover,  would 
be  popularly  acknowledged  with  something  more  than  empty  gra- 
titude in  England,  and  the  time  might  come  when  such  opposition 


SOPHIA   DOROTHEA. 


68 


would  receive  as  splendid  a  recompense  as  prince  or  patriot  could 
desire. 

It  is  easy  to  believe  that  William  approved  of  a  communication 
of  such  a  nature  made,  as  Burnet  protests,  without  being  otherwise 
than  self-prompted  thereto.  The  immediate  result  would  be,  to 
secure  an  ally  for  Holland,  and  William  might  safely  leave  ulterior 
contingencies  to  Providence  and  time. 

I  lowever  this  may  be,  it  is  certain  that  Burnet  was  eminently 
successful  in  his  object  with  the  Hanoverian  minister.  The  latter 
ai)i)('ars  not  only  to  have  communicated  what  passed  to  his  sover- 
eign, but  to  have  added  comments  thereto  which  carried  conviction 
to  the  mind  of  Ernest  Augustus.  This  conviction  is  seen  by  the 
result  which  followed.  Hanover,  in  1 688,  ranged  herself  with  the 
European  coalition,  that  is,  with  England,  Holland,  and  the  Ger- 
man Empire,  against  France. 

There  was  true  "  definite  policy"  in  this  act.  Ernest  Augustus 
was  bound  indeed  to  supply  a  contingent  to  the  Emperor  whenever 
the  latter  might  call  for  such  aid  in  behalf  of  the  empire  ;  but  he 
was  not  satisfied  with  this  alone ;  his  own  territory  was  not  threat- 
ened, and  it  was  too  far  away  from  the  stage  whereon  the  gi-eat 
drama  was  being  played,  or  was  about  to  be  played  out,  to  give 
him  fears  concerning  the  inviolability  of  his  frontier.  He  acted 
however,  as  though  he  had  as  fierce  a  quarrel  with  Louis  as  the 
more  powerful  belligerents  opposed  to  that  monarch.  He  recalled 
his  minister  from  Paris,  gave  passports  to  the  French  ambassador 
at  Hanover,  and  in  short,  played  his  grand  coup  for  an  electorate 
noic^  and  a  throne  in  futurity. 

To  be  elevated  to  the  electorate  had  certainly  been  long  the 
dearest  among  the  more  immediate  objects  of  his  ambition.  AVhen 
his  elder  brother  John  Frederick  died  childless,  and  left  him  the 
principalities  of  Calemberg  and  Grubenberg,  with  Hanover  for  a 
**  residenz,"  he  hailed  an  increase  of  influence  which  he  hoped  to 
see  heightened  by  securing  the  Duchy  of  Zell  also  to  his  family. 
He  had  determined  that  George  Louis  should  succeed  to  Hanover 
and  Zell  united.  In  other  words,  he  established  primogeniture, 
recognized  his  eldest  son  as  heir  to  all  his  land,  and  only  awarded 
to  his  other  sons  moderate  appendages  whei-eby  to  support  a  dig- 


I 


64 


LIVES   OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


nity  which  he  considered  sufficiently  splendid  by  the  glory  which 
it  would  receive,  by  reflection,  from  the  head  of  the  house. 

This  arrangement  by  no  means  suited  the  views  of  one  of 
Ernest's  sons,  Maximilian.  He  had  no  inclination  whatever  to 
bon'ow  glory  from  the  better  fortune  of  his  brother,  and  was  re- 
solved, if  it  might  be,  to  achieve  splendor  by  his  own.  He  pro- 
tested loudly  against  the  accumulation  of  the  family  territorial 
estates  upon  the  eldest  heir ;  claimed  his  own  share ;  and  even 
raised  a  species  of  domestic  rebellion  against  his  sire,  to  which 
weight,  without  peril,  was  given  by  the  adhesion  of  a  couple  of 
confederates,  Count  Molcke,  and  a  conspirator  of  burgher  degree. 

Ernest  Augustus  treated  "Max"  like  a  rude  child.  He  put 
him  under  arrest  in  the  paternal  palace,  and  confined  the  filial 
rebel  to  the  mild  imprisonment  of  his  own  room.  Maximilian  was 
as  obstinate  as  either  Henry  the  Dog,  or  Marcus  the  Violent,  and 
he  not  only  opposed  his  sire's  wishes  with  respect  to  the  aggran- 
dizement of  the  family  by  the  enriching  of  the  heir-apparent,  but 
went  counter  to  him  in  matters  of  religion,  and  in  after  years  was 
not  only  a  good  Jacobite,  but  he  also  conformed  to  the  faith  of  the 
Stuarts,  and  Maximilian  ultimately  died,  a  tolerable  Catholic,  in 
the  service  of  the  Emperor. 

In  the  meanwhile,  his  domestic  antagonism  against  his  father 
was  not  productive  of  much  inconvenience  to  himself  His  arrest 
was  soon  raised,  and  he  was  restored  to  freedom,  though  not  to 
favor  or  affection.  It  went  harder  with  his  friend  and  confederate 
Count  Miilcke,  against  whom,  as  nothing  could  be  proved,  much 
was  invented.  An  absurd  story  wiis  coined  to  the  effect  that  at 
the  time  when  Maximilian  was  opposing  his  father's  projects,  the 
Count  Molcke,  at  a  court  entertainment,  had  presented  his  snuff- 
box to  Ernest  Augustus.  That  illustrious  individual  having  taken 
therefi-om  the  pungent  tribute  respectfully  offered,  presented  the 
same  to  an  Italian  greyhound  which  lay  at  his  feet,  who  thereon 
suddenly  sneezed,  and  swiftly  died.  The  count  was  sent  into  close 
arrest,  and  the  courtly  gossips  forged  the  story  to  account  for  the 
result.  The  unfortunate  Molcke  was  indeed  as  severely  punished 
as  though  he  had  been  a  murderer  by  anticipation.  He  was  judged 
in  something  of  the  old  Jcnlburgh  fashion,  whereby  execntion  pre- 


SOPHIA  DOROTHEA. 


65 


ceded  judgment ;  and  the  head  of  .Count  Molcke  had  fallen  before 
men  could  well  guess  why  he  had  forfeited  it.  Tlui  fact  was  that 
this  penalty  had  been  exacted  as  a  vicarious  infliction  on  Prince 
Maximilian.  In  old-fashioned  courts  in  England  there  used  to  be 
a  whipping-boy  who  received  castigation  whenever  the  young 
princes  of  the  royal  family  behaved  ill.  The  latter,  in  the  agony 
of  the  actual  victim,  were  supposed  to  be  able  to  understand  what 
their  own  deserts  were,  and  what  their  sufferings  would  have  been, 
had  not  their  persons  been  far  too  sacred  to  endure  chastisement 
for  their  faults.  The  more  ignoble  plotter  was  only  banished,  and 
in  the  death  of  a  friend,  and  the  exile  of  a  follower,  Maximilian,  it 
was  hoi)ed,  would  see  a  double  suggestion  from  which  he  would 
draw  a  healthy  conclusion.  Tliis  course  had  its  desired  effect. 
The  disinherited  heir  accepted  his  ill-fortune  with  a  humor  of  the 
same  quality,  and,  openly  at  least,  he  ceased  to  be  a  trouble  to  his 
more  ambitious  than  affectionate  father. 

Domestic  rebellion  having  been  thus  suppressed  or  got  rid  of, 
Ernest  Augustus  looked  to  the  Emperor  for  the  reward  of  his 
ready  alacrity  in  supi>orting  the  imperial  house.  It  was  not  with- 
out much  trouble  tmd  vexation  that  the  desired  end  was  achieved. 
The  sacred  college  opposed  the  aim  of  the  sovereign  of  Hanover, 
but  the  Emperor,  of  his  own  accord,  made  Ernest  Augustus  an 
elector ;  and  the  IDth  December,  IGDl,  was  the  joyful  day  of  nom- 
mation. 

The  day,  however,  was  anything  but  one  of  joy  to  the  branch 
of  Bruuswick-Wolfenbuttel.  That  elder  branch  felt  itself  dishon- 
ored by  the  august  dignity  which  had  been  conferred  upon  the 
younger  scion  of  the  family.  The  hatred  which  ensued  between 
the  kinsmen  was  of  that  intensity  which  is  said  to  distinguish  the 
mutual  hate  of  kinsmen  above  all  others.  The  elder  branch,  and 
the  sacred  college  with  it,  affirmed  that  the  Emperor  was  invested 
with  no  prerogative  by  which  he  could,  of  his  own  spontaneous 
act,  add  a  ninth  elector  to  the  eight  already  existing.  Originally 
there  were  but  seven,  and  the  accession  of  one  more  to  that  time- 
honored  number  was  pronounced  to  be  an  innovation  by  which  ill- 
fortune  must  ensue.     Something  still  more  deplorable  was  vaticin- 


66 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


SOPHIA  DOROTHEA. 


67 


1^ 


ated  as  the  terrible  consequence  of  an  illegal  step  so  peremptorilj 
taken  by  the  Emperor,  in  despite  of  the  other  electorfj. 

It  was  said  by  the  supjwrters  of  the  Emperor  and  Hanover  that 
the  addition  of  a  ninth,  and  Protestant  elector  was  the  more  ne- 
cessary ;  that  there  were  only  two  electors  on  the  sacred  roll  who 
now  followed  the  faith  of  the  Reformed  Church ;  and  that  the  sin- 
cerity of  one,  at  least,  of  these  was  very  questionable.  The  re- 
form(?d  states  of  Germany  had  a  right  to  be  properly  represented 
and  the  p]mperor  was  worthy  of  all  praise  for  resf>ecting  tliis  right. 
With  regartl  to  the  nomination,  it  was  stated  that  though  it  had 
been  made  s|K)ntaneously  by  the  Emperor,  it  had  been  confirmed 
by  the  Electoral  College, — a  majority  of  the  number  of  which  had 
carried  the  election  of  the  p]m})eror's  candidate. 

Now,  this  last  point  was  tlie  weak  point  of  the  Hanoverians ;  for 
it  was  asserted  by  many  adversaries,  and  not  denied  by  many  sup- 
porters, that  in  such  a  case  as  this,  no  vote  of  the  Electoral  College 
was  good  unless  it  were  an  unanimous  vote.  To  this  objection, 
strongly  urged  by  the  elder  branch  of  Brunswick- Wolfenbuttel,  no 
answer  was  made,  except  indeed  by  praising  the  new  elector,  of 
whom  it  was  correctly  stated  that  he  had  introiluced  into  his  states 
such  a  taste  for  mas{piei-ades,  operas,  and  ballets,  as  had  never 
been  known  before;  and  that  he  liad  made  a  merry  and  a  prosper- 
ous people  of  what  had  been  previously  but  a  dull  nation,  as  re- 
garded both  manners  and  commerce.  The  Emperor  only  thought 
of  the  gotnl  service  wiiich  Ernest  Augustus  had  rendered  him  in 
the  field,  and  he  stood  by  the  "  accomplished  fact "  of  wliicli  he 
was  the  chief  author. 

The  college  was  to  the  full  as  obstinate,  and  would  not  recognize 
any  vote  tendered  by  the  Elector  of  Hanover,  or  of  Brunswick,  as 
he  was  at  first  called.  Ernest  Augustus  sat  in  the  college,  as  our 
Bishop  of  Sodor  and  :Man  is  said  to  have  done,  in  the  olden  time, 
in  the  House  of  Lords,  where  a  seat  was  prepared  for  the  i)relate, 
which  he  was  allowed  to  occupy  on  condition  that  he  had  no  voice 
in  the  proceedings.  Eor  nearly  sixteen  years  was  this  opi^sition 
carried  on.  At  length,  on  the  30th  of  June,  1708,  this  affair  of  the 
ninth  electorate  was  adjusted,  and  the  tliree  colleges  of  the  empire 
resolved  to  admit  the  Elector  of  Hanover  to  sit  and  vote  in  the 


Electoral  College.  In  the  same  month  he  was  made  general  of 
the  imperial  troops,  then  assembled  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Upper 
Rhine. 

His  original  selection  by  the  Emperor  had  much  reference  to  his 
military  services.  The  efforts  of  Louis  XIV.  to  get  possession  of 
the  Palatinate,  after  the  death  of  the  Palatine  Louis,  had  caused 
the  fonnation  of  the  German  confederacy  to  resist  the  aggression 
of  France, — an  aggression  which  was  not  finally  overcome  till  the 
day  when  Marlboi-ough  defeated  Tallard,  at  Blenheim.  Louis  was 
burned  into  the  war  by  his  minister  Louvois,  who  was  annoyed  by 
his  interference  at  liome  in  matters  connected  with  Louvois's  de- 
partment. It  was  to  make  the  confederation  more  firm  and  united 
that  Ernest  Augustus  was  created,  rather  than  elected,  a  nmth 
elector.  The  three  Protestant  electors  were  those  of  Saxony, 
Brandenburg,  and  Hanover ;  the  three  Catholic,  Bohemia,  Bava- 
ria, and  the  Palatinate ;  and  the  three  spiritual  electoi's,  the  Princo 
Archbishops  of  Metz,  Treves,  and  Cologne.  The  original  number 
of  electors  was  seven,  and  their  office,  according  to  Schiller,  was  to 
encircle  the  ruler  of  the  w^orld  (tlie  Emperor)  as  the  company  of 
Stars  surround  the  sun : — 

Und  allc  die  Wiihler,  die  Sieben 
Wic  der  Sterner  Chor  um  die  Sonne  sich  stellt, 
Umstandcn  gcschiiftig  die  Herrscher  del  Welt, 

Der  Wurde  des  Amies  zu  iiben. 

In  the  battle-field  they  stood  with  their  colors  round  the  im- 
perial standard,  "  like  Iris  with  all  her  seven."  Their  efforts 
against  France  were  not  at  first  marked  by  success.  Mai*shal 
Luxembourg  routed  the  Dutch  General  AValdeck,  and  in  1691 
NaTnur  was  carried  by  storm,  and  Liege  bombarded.  In  the  fol- 
lowing year  William  III.  was  defeated  at  Steinkirk,  where  the 
husband  of  Sophia  Dorothea  served  under  him,  and  learned  how 
great  a  general  may  be  under  defeat ; — a  retreat  was  never  con- 
ducte(>  in  more  masterly  style.  The  castle  of  Heidelberg,  the 
birth-place  of  the  Electress  Sophia  was,  at  the  same  period,  blown 
into  ruins  by  the  French ;  and  in  1697  the  peace  of  Ryswick 
humiliated  the  allies,   and  gave  breathing  time  to  the  King  of 


68 


LIVES   OF   THE   QUEENS   OF  ENGLAND. 


France  to  frame  new  projects,  which  were  ultimately  foiled  by 
the  triumphant  sword  of  Marlborough.     Kut  this  is  anticipating. 

The  history  of  the  creation  of  the  ninth  electorate  would  not  be 
complete  without  citing  what  is  said  in  respect  thereof  by  the 
author  of  a  pamphlet  suppressed  by  the  Hanoverian  government, 
and  entitled  '*  Impeachment  of  the  Ministry  of  Count  Munster." 
It  is  to  this  effect.  "  During  the  war  between  Leopold  I.  and 
France,  at  the  close  of  the  17th  century,  Ernest  Augustus,  Duke 
of  Brunswick,  and  administrator  of  Osnabriick,  father  of  George  I., 
had  been  j)aid  a  considerable  sum  of  money  on  condition  of  aiding 
the  French  monarch  with  ten  thousand  troops — the  Em{)eror, 
aware  of  the  engagement,  and  anxious  to  prevent  the  junction  of 
these  forces  with  the  enemy,  proj^sed  to  create  a  ninth  electorate, 
in  favor  of  the  Duke,  provided  he  brought  his  levies  to  the  im- 
perial banner.  The  degrading  offer  was  accepted,  and  the  envoys 
of  Brunswick-Luneberg  received  the  electoral  cap,  the  symbol  of 
their  master's  dishonor,  at  Vienna,  on  the  19th  December,  1G02. 
From  the  opposition  of  the  college  and  princes,  Ernest  was  never 
more  than  nominally  an  elector,  and  even  his  son's  nomination  was 
with  ditHculty  accomplislied  in  1710.  It  was  in  connection  with 
this  new  dignity  that  Hanover,  a  name  till  then  applied  only  to  a 
princi[Kd  and  almost  independent  city  of  the  Dukedom  of  Bruns- 
wick, became  known  in  the  list  of  European  sovereignties. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE    KoXIGSMARKS. 

Having  briefly  traced  the  outline  of  the  history  regarding  the 
elevation  of  the  Court  of  Hanover  to  the  rank  of  an  electoral 
court,  I  must  beg  pennission  to  continue  for  a  short  space  more  to 
be  episodical,  in  order  to  trace  the  career  of  an  individual  whose 
residence  at  that  Court  brought  death,  dishonor,  and  destruction  in 
his  train. 

I  have  before  noticed  the  circumstance  of  the  sojourn  of  a 
Count  KOnigsmark  at  Zell,  during  the  childhood  of  Sophia  Doro- 


SOPHIA    DOROTHEA. 


69 


thea.  The  family  of  the  Konigsmarks  was  originally  of  the  Mark 
of  Brandenburgh,  but  a  chief  of  the  family  settled  in  Sweden,  and 
the  name  carried  lustre  with  it  into  more  than  one  country.  In 
the  army,  the  cabinet,  and  the  church,  the  Konigsmarks  had  re- 
presentatives of  whom  they  might  be  proud  ;  and  generals,  states- 
men, and  prince-bishops,  all  laboring  with  glory  in  their  respective 
department*!,  sustained  the  high  reputation  of  this  once  celebrated 
Dame.  From  the  period,  early  in  the  17th  century,  that  the  first 
Konigsmark  (Count  John  Christopher)  withdrew  from  the  impe- 
rial service  and  joined  that  of  Sweden,  the  men  of  that  house 
devoted  themselves,  almost  exclusively,  to  the  profession  of  arms. 
This  Count  John  is  especially  famous  as  the  subduer  of  Prague, 
in  1C48,  at  the  end  of  the  Thirty  Years'  War.  Of  all  the  costly 
booty  which  he  carried  with  him  from  that  city,  none  has  con- 
tinued to  be  so  well  cared-for,  by  the  Swedes,  as  the  silver  book, 
containing  the  Moeso-Gothic  Gospels  of  Bishop  Ulphilas,  still  with 
pride  preserved  at  learned  Upsal. 

John  Christopher  was  the  father  of  two  sons.  Otho  William,  a 
marshal  of  France,  a  valued  friend  of  Charles  XII.,  and  a  gallant 
servant  of  the  state  of  Venice,  whose  government  honored  his 
tomb  with  an  inscription  Semper  Victori,  was  the  younger.  He 
was  pious  as  well  as  brave,  and  he  enriched  German  literature 
with  a  collection  of  very  fervid  and  spiritual  hymns.  The  other, 
and  the  older  son,  was  Conrad  Christopher.  The  last  name  was 
almost  as  common  an  appellation  in  the  family  of  Konigsmark  as 
those  of  Timoleon  Cosse  in  the  family  of  Brissac.  Conrad  Chris- 
topher was  killed  in  the  year  1 673,  when  fighting  on  the  Dutch 
and  imperial  side,  at  the  siege  of  Bonn.  He  left  four  children, 
three  of  whom  became  at  once  famous  and  infamous.  His  sons 
were  Charles  John  and  Philip  Christopher.  His  daughters  were 
Maria  Aurora  (mother  of  the  famous  Maurice  of  Saxony),  and 
Amelia  Wilhelmina,  who  was  fortunate  enough  to  achieve  happi- 
ness without  being  celebrated,  and  who,  if  she  has  not  been  talked 
of  beyond  her  o^vn  Swedish  fireside,  passed  there  a  life  of  as  calm 
felicity  as  she  and  her  husband,  Charles  von  Loewenhauft,  could 
enjoy  when  they  had  relations  so  celebrated,  and  so  troublesome, 
as  Counts  Charles  John,  and  Phihp  Christopher,  and  the  Countess 


70 


LIVES  OF  THE    QL'EEXS   OF   ENGLAND. 


SOrillA   DOHOTUEA. 


71 


Maria  Aurcra,  the  "  favorite  "  of  Augustus  of  Poland,  and  the  only 
royal  concubine,  perhaps,  who  almost  deserved  as  much  respect  as 
though  she  had  won  her  greatness  by  a  legitimate  process. 

It  was  this  Philip  Christopher  who  was,  for  a  brief  season,  the 
playfellow  of  Sophia  Dorothea,  in  the  young  days  of  both,  in  the 
quiet  gardens  and  galleries  of  Zell.  It  is  only  told  of  him  that, 
after  his  departure  from  Zell,  he  sojourned  with  various  members 
of  his  family,  travelled  with  them,  and  returned  at  intervals  to 
reside  with  his  mother,  Maria  Christina,  of  the  German  family  of 
Wrangle,  who  unhappily  survived  long  enough  to  be  acquainted 
with  the  crimes  as  well  as  misfortunes  of  three  of  her  cliildren. 

In  the  year  1682,  Philip  Christopher  was  in  Engliuid.  The 
elder  brother,  who  had  more  than  once  been  a  visitor  to  this 
country,  and  a  welcome,  because  a  witty,  one  at  the  Court  of 
Charles  II.,  had  brought  his  younger  brother  hither,  in  order  to 
have  him  instructed  more  completely  in  the  tenets  of  the  Pro- 
testant religion,  and  to  ultimately  place  him  at  Oxford.  In  the 
meantime  he  placed  him  in  a  very  singular  locality  for  a  theolo- 
gical student.  He  loilged  him  with  a  "  governor,"  at  the  riding 
academy,  in  the  Ilaymarket,  of  that  Major  Foubert,  whose  second 
establishment,  where  he  taught  the  young  to  witch  the  world  with 
noble  horsemanship,  is  still  commemorated  by  the  passage  out  of 
Regent-street,  which  bears  the  name  of  the  French  Protestant 
refugee  and  i)rofessor  of  equestriani>m. 

The  elder  brother  of  these  two  Konigsmarks  was  a  superb 
scoundrel,  and  I  have  no  more  foith  in  his  professed  zeal  for 
Philip  Christopher's  religion  than  he  had  in  the  tnith  which  Philip 
was  to  be  taught,  after  he  had  learned  to  ride.  He  had  led  a 
roving  and  adventurous  life,  and  was  in  England  when  not  more 
than  fifteen  years  of  age,  in  the  year  1G74.  During  the  next  half 
dozen  years  he  had  rendered  the  ladies  of  the  Court  of  France 
ecstatic  at  his  impudence,  and  had  won  golden  opinions  from  the 
"marine  knights"  of  Malta,  whom  he  had  accompanied  on  a 
"  caravane,"  or  cruise,  against  the  Turks,  wherein  he  took  hard 
blows  cheerfully,  and  had  well-nigh  been  drowned  by  his  im- 
petuous gallnntry.  At  some  of  the  Courts  of  southern  Europe  he 
appeared  with  an  eclat  which  made  the  men  hate  and  envy  him ; 


but  no  where  did  he  produce  more  effect  than  at  Madrid,  where 
he  appeared  at  the  period  of  the  festivities  held  to  celebrate  the 
marriage  of  Charles  II.  with  Maria  Louisa,  of  Orleans,  daughter 
of  that  Henrietta  Maria,  who  was  the  youngest  child  of  our 
Charles  I.,  bom  at  Exeter,  never  beheld  by  her  sire,  and  mur- 
dered, it  is  feared,  by  the  connivance  of  her  husband,  the  Duke  of 
Orleans,  as  her  daughter  this  Maria  Louisa  was,  by  the  negligence 
or  connivance  of  her  consort. 

The  marriage  of  the  last-named  august  pair  was  followed  by  the 
fiercest  and  the  finest  bull-fights,  symbolic  of  Spanish  royal  unions, 
that  had  ever  been  witnessed  in  Spain.  At  one  of  these,  Charles 
John  niiule  himself  the  champion  of  a  lady,  fought  in  her  honor  in 
the  arena,  with  the  wildest  bull  of  the  company,  and  got  dreadfully 
mauled  for  his  pains.  His  horse  was  slain,  and  he  himself,  stag- 
gering and  faint,  and  blind  with  loss  of  blood  and  with  deep  wounds, 
had  finally  only  strength  enough  left  to  pass  his  sword  into  the 
neck  of  the  other  brute,  his  antagonist,  and  to  be  carried  half-dead 
and  quite  senseless  out  of  the  arena,  amid  the  fierce  approbation  of 
the  gentle  ladies,  who  purred  applause,  like  satisfied  tigresses,  upon 
the  unconscious  hero. 

In  1G81,  at  the  mature  age  of  twenty-two,  master  of  all  manly 
vices,  and  ready  for  any  adventure,  he  was  once  more  in  England, 
where  he  seized  the  opj)ortunity  afibrded  him  by  the  times  and 
their  events,  and  luv<tened  to  join  the  expedition  against  Tangier. 
He  behaved  like  a  young  hero,  and  with  his  appetite  for  sanguinary 
adventure  whetted  by  what  he  had  tasted,  on  the  conclusion  of  the 
warm  affair  at  Tangier,  he  went  as  an  amateur  against  the  Alge- 
rines,and  without  commission,  inflicting  on  them  and  their  "uncle" 
(tis  the  word  Dey  implies,)  as  much  injury  as  though  he  had  been 
chartered  general  at  the  head  of  a  destroying  host.  When  he 
returned  to  England  at  the  conclusion  of  this  season  of  adventure, 
he  was  received  amid  those  who  love  adventurers,  with  a  peculiar 
delight.  That  he  was  a  foreign  adventurer,  then  as  now,  only 
increased  his  attraction  ;  and,  from  the  king  downwards,  "polite" 
people,  as  the  aristocracy  rudely  styled  itself,  with  mendacious  ex- 
clusiveness,  received  Count  Charles  John  with  enthusiasm.  His 
handsome  face,  his  long  flaxen  hair,  his  stupendous  perriwig  for 


i\\ 


^1 


72 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


state  occasions,  and  the  boy's  ineffable  impudence,  made  him  the 
deli-ht  of  the  impudent  people  of  those  impudent  times. 

Now,  of  all  those  people,  the  supercilious  Charles  John  cared 
but  for  one,  and  she,  there  is  reason  to  believe,  knew  little  and 
cared  less  for  this  presuming  lad  of  the  house  of  Konigsmark. 

All  the  wisdom  and  science  of  John  Locke,  the  physician  of  the 
last  of  the  Percys,  could  not  save  from  death,  at  the  age  of  twenty- 
six,  Joscelyn,  eleventh  Earl  of  Northumberland,  who  died  in  the 
year  1670  ; — the  last  of  the  male  line  of  his  house. 

He  left  an  only  daughter,  four  years  of  age,  named  Elizabeth. 
Her  father's  death  made  her  the  i)ossessor,— awaiting  her  majority, 
of  vast  wealth,  to  which  increase  was  made  by  succession  to  other 
inheritances.  Her  widowed  mother  married  Ralph  Montague, 
English  ambassador  in  Paris,  builder  of  the  "Montague"  houses, 
which  occupied  successively  the  site  of  the  present  British  Museum, 
and  finally  husband,  after  the  death  of  the  widow  of  Percy,  of  the 
mad  Duchess  of  Albemarle,  who  declared  tliat  she  would  never 
wed  beneath  royalty,  and  whom  he  wooed,  won,  and  maintained  as 
"  Emperor  oi^  China." 

AMien  the  widow  of  Joscelyn  espoused  Montague,  her  daughter 
Elizal)eth  went  to  reside  with  the  mother  of  Joscelyn, — Dowager- 
Countess  of  Northumberland,  and  co-heiress  to  the  Suffolk  estate, 
destined  to  be  added  to  the  possessions  of  the  little  Elizabeth.  She 
was  an  intriguing,  indelicate,  self-willed,  and  worthless  old  woman ; 
and  with  resjH'ct  to  the  poor  little  girl  of  whom  she  was  the  unwor- 
thv  jruardian,  she  "made  her  the  subject  of  constant  intrigues  with 
men  of  power  who  wished  for  wealth,  and  with  rich  men  who 
wished  for  rank  and  power."  Before  the  unhappy  little  heiress 
had  attaineil  the  age  of  thirteen,  her  grandmother  had  bound  her 
in  marriage  with  Henry  Cavendish,  Earl  Ogle.  Though  the  cere- 
mony was  performed,  the  parties  did  not,  of  course,  reside  together. 
The  Dowager  Countess  and  the  Earl  were  satisfied  that  the  for- 
tune of  the  heiress  was  secured,  and  they  were  further  content  to 
wait  for  what  might  follow. 

That  which  followed  wtis  what  they  least  exi^cted, — ileath  ;  the 
bridegroom  died  within  a  year  of  his  union  with  Elizabeth  Percy; 
and  this  child,  wife,  and  widow,  was  agam  at  the  disposal  of  her 


SOPHIA    LOKOTUEA. 


73 


wretched  grjindinother.     The  heiress  of  countless  thousands  was 
anything  but  the  mistress  of  herself. 

At  this  period  the  proprietor  of  the  house  and  domain  of  Long- 
leat,  in  Wiltshire,  was  that  Thomas  Thynne,  whom  Dryden  has 
celebrated  as  the  Issachar  of  his  "  Absalom  and  Achitophel,"  who 
was  the  friend  of  the  Duke  of  Monmouth,  was  alliteratively  sjwken 
of  as  "  Tom  of  Ten  Thousand,"  and  who  was  a  very  unworthy  fel- 
low, although  the  member  of  a  most  worthy  house. 

Tom's  Ten  Thousand  virtues  were  of  that  metal  which  the  Dow- 
ager Countess  of  Northumberland  most  approved  ;  and  her  grand- 
daughter had  not  been  many  months  the  widow  of  Lord  Ogle, 
when  her  precious  guardian  united  her  by  private  marriage  to 
Thynne.  The  newly-married  couple  were  at  once  separated. 
The  marriage  was  the  result  of  an  infamous  intrigue  between  infa- 
mous people,  some  of  whom,  subsequently  to  Thynne's  death,  sued 
his  executors  for  money  which  he  had  bound  himself  to  pay  for 
services  rendered  to  further  the  marriage. 

When  Charles  John  Konigsmark  arrived  in  England,  in  Janu- 
ary, 1G«2,  all  England  was  talking  of  the  match  wherein  a  poor 
child  had  been  sold,  although  the  purchaser  had  not  yet  possession 
of  either  his  victim  or  lier  fortune.  The  common  talk  must  have 
had  deep  influence  on  the  count,  who  appears  to  have  been  im- 
])ressed  with  the  idea  that  if  Thynne  were  dead.  Count  Charles 
John  Konigsmark  might  succeed  to  his  place  and  expectations. 

On  the  evening  of  Sunday,  the  12th  of  February,  1682,  Thynne 
was  in  his  coach,  from  which  the  Duke  of  Monmouth  had  only  just 
previously  alighted,  and  was  riding  along  that  part  of  Pall-Mall 
which  abuts  uix)n  Cockspur  Street,  when  the  carriage  was  stopped 
bv  three  men  on  horseback,  one  of  whom  discharged  a  carbine  into 
it,  whereby  Tom  of  Ten  Thousimd  was  so  desperately  wounded 
that  he  died  in  a  few  hours. 

The  persons  charged  with  this  murder  were  chiefly  discovered 
by  means  of  individuals  of  ill  repute  with  whom  they  associated. 
By  such  means  were  arrested  a  German,  Captain  Vratz,  Borosky 
a  Pole,  and  a  fellow,  half  knave,  half  enthusiast,  described  as  Lieu- 
tenant Stern.  Vratz  had  accompanied  Konigsmark  to  England. 
Thev  Iodised  to;]rether,  first  in  the  Haymarket,  next  in   Rupert 


74 


LIVES   OF  THE    QUEENS   OF   ENGLAND. 


SOPHIA   DOROTHEA. 


76 


Street,  and  finally  in  St.  Martin's  Lane.  Borosky  had  been  clothed 
and  armed  at  the  count's  expense ;  and  Stem  was  employed  as  a 
likely  tool  to  help  them  in  this  enterprise.  It  was  proved  on  the 
trial,  that  after  the  deed  was  committed,  these  men  were  at  the 
count's  lodgings,  that  a  sudden  separation  took  place,  and  that  the 
count  himself,  upon  some  sudden  fear,  took  flight  to  the  water  side; 
there  he  lay  hid  for  a  while,  and  then  dodged  about  the  river,  in 
various  disguises,  in  order  to  elude  pursuit,  until  he  finally  landed 
at  Gravesend,  where  he  was  pounced  upon  by  two  most  expert 
thief-catchers, — cunning  as  Vidocq,  determined  as  Townsend,  and 
farsighted  as  Field. 

The  confession  of  the  instruments,  save  Vratz,  did  not  affect  the 
count.  His  defence  took  a  high  Protestant  turn, — made  allusion 
to  his  Protestant  ancestors,  and  their  deeds  in  behalf  of  Protest- 
antism, lauded  Protestant  England,  alluded  to  his  younger  brother, 
brought  expressly  here  to  be  educated  in  Protestant  principles,  and 
altogether  was  exceedingly  clever,  but  in  no  wise  convincing.  It 
was  a  defence  likely  to  do  him  good  with  a  jury  and  people  in 
mortal  fear  of  Popery,  possessed  by  deadly  hatred  of  a  possible 
Popish  successor  to  the  throne,  and  influenced  by  foolish  affection 
for  the  Duke  of  Monmouth,  who,  being  of  no  religion  at  all,  was 
consequently  no  "  Papist,"  and  might  hereafter  become  a  good 
Protestant  king,— just  as  his  graceless  father  had  been.  It  was, 
moreover,  known  that  the  king  wouhl  learn  with  pleasure  that  the 
count  had  been  acquitted  ;  and  jis  this  knowledge  was  possessed  by 
judges  who  were  removable  at  the  king's  pleasure,  it  had  a  very 
strong  influence,  and  the  arch-murderer,  the  most  cowardly  of  the 
infamous  company,  was  acquitted  accordingly.  In  his  case,  the 
verdict,  as  regarded  him,  was  given  in  last.  The  other  three  per- 
sons were  indicted  for  the  actual  commission  of  the  flict,  Konigs- 
mark  as  accessory  before  the  fact,  hiring  them,  and  instigating 
them  to  the  crime.  Thrice  he  had  heard  the  word  "  Guilty"  pro^ 
nounced,  and,  despite  his  recklessness,  was  somewhat  moved  when 
the  jury  were  asked  as  to  their  verdict  respecting  him.  "  Not 
Guilty,"  murmured  the  foreman  ;— and  then  the  nobfe  count,  mind- 
ful only  of  himself,  and  forgetful  of  the  three  unhappy  men  whom 
he  liad  dragged  to  death,  exclaimed  in  his  unmanlv  jov,  «  God 


I 


> 


bless  the  king,  and  this  honorable  bench  !"  He  well  knew  where 
his  gratitude  was  due — to  a  graceless  monarch,  and  a  servile  judge. 
The  meaner  assassins  were  flung  to  the  gallows.  Vratz  went  to 
his  fate,  like  Pierre ;  declared  that  the  murder  was  the  result  of  a 
mistake,  that  he  had  no  hand  in  it,  and  that  as  he  was  a  gentleman, 
God  would  assuredly  deal  with  him  as  such ! 

This  *' gentleman,"  who  looked  for  civil  treatment  hereafter, 
accounted  for  his  presence  at  the  murder,  as  having  arisen  by  his 
entertaining  a  quarrel  with  Mr.  Thynne,  whom  he  was  about  to 
challenge,  when  the  Pole,  mistaking  his  orders  and  inclinations, 
discharged  his  carbine  into  the  carriage,  and  slew  the  occupant. 
The  other  two  confessed  to  the  murder,  as  the  hired  instruments 
of  Vratz ;  but  the  latter  (who  could  not  have  saved  his  own  neck 
by  implicating  the  count,  his  employer),  kept  his  own  secret  as  to 
liim  who  had  seduced  him  to  this  great  sin,  and,  feeling  that  he 
was  thus  behaving  as  a  "gentleman"  of  those  days  w^as  expected 
to  behave,  quietly  confided  in  God  to  treat  him  in  gentlemanlike 
fashion,  in  return. 

Count  Philip  Christopher  gave  brief  evidence  on  this  trial,  sim- 
ply to  speak  to  his  brother's  having  been  engaged  in  the  purchase 
of  horses.  As  for  Count  Charles  John,  he  felt  for  a  moment  that 
there  was  a  blot  or  speck  upon  the  escutcheon  of  the  Konigsmarks. 
*'  Tut,"  said  he,  after  a  httle  reflection, — "  it  will  all  be  wiped  out 
by  some  dazzling  action  in  war,  or  a  lodging  on  a  counterscarp !  '* 
So  did  this  Protestant  gentleman  settle  with  his  conscience.  He 
proceeded  to  efface  the  little  speck  in  question  by  repairing  to  the 
Court  of  France,  where  he  was  received  in  that  sort  of  gentlemanly 
fashion  which  Vratz  looked  for  in  Paradise. 

His  sword  gleam«d  in  many  an  action  fought  in  various  battle- 
fields of  Europe  during  the  next  few  years,  in  most  of  which  he 
distinguished  himself  at  the  head  of  a  French  regiment,  of  which 
he  was  colonel.  Finally,  in  1G86,  he  was  in  the  service  of  the 
Venetians  in  the  Morea.  On  the  29th  of  August  he  was  before 
Argos,  when  a  sortie  was  made  by  the  garrison,  and  in  the  bloody 
struggle  which  ensued,  he  was  mortally  wounded.  He  had  done 
enough,  he  thought,  to  wipe  out  the  speck  which  had  for  a  season 
sullied  the  good  name  of  Konigsraark ;  and  he  was  grateful  to  the 


u 


76 


LIVES   OF   THE    QUEENS   OF  ENGLAND. 


last  for  the  kind  attentions  paid  to  him  by  the  "  polite  "  society  of 
England  during  the  time  of  his  little  troubles.  In  .«hort,  this  so- 
called  Protestant  gentleman,  who  was  a  Popish  colonel  in  the 
service  of  Louis  XIV.,  did  not  appear  to  have  the  remotest  idea 
of  the  balance  likely  to  be  struck  against  him  by  the  Recording 
Angel.  Like  Vratz,  perhaps,  he  considered  that  he  was  too  much 
of  a  "gentleman"  to  have  his  little  foibles  set  down  against  him  in 
Heaven's  Chancery. 

They  were  not  even  recorded  against  him  on  Thynne's  tomb  in 
Westminster  Abbey.  A  Latin  inscription  was  prepared  for  the 
tomb,  which  more  than  merely  hinted  that  Konigsmark  was  the 
murderer  of  Tom  of  Ten  Thousand.  "  Small,  servile,  Spratt," 
then  Dean  of  Westminster,  would  not,  however,  allow  the  inscrip- 
tion to  be  set  up ;  and  his  apologists  who  advance  in  his  behalf 
that  he  would  have  done  wrong  had  he  allowed  a  man,  cleared  by 
a  jury  from  the  charge  of  murtler,  to  be  permanently  set  down  in 
hard  record  of  marble,  as  an  assassin,  have  much  reason  in  what 
they  advance. 

Before  we  trace  the  further  outlines  of  the  Konigsmark  annals, 
it  were  as  well  briefly  to  state  what  became  of  the  youthful  maid, 
wife,  and  widow.  Lady  Ogle.  She  remained  at  Amsterdam 
(whither  she  had  gone,  some  persons  said^tW),  after  her  marriage 
with  Thynne,  until  the  three  of  his  nuirderers,  who  had  been  exe- 
cuted, had  expiated  their  crime,  as  far  as  human  justice  was  con- 
cerned, upon  the  scafibld.  If  her  ladyship  landed  at  llanvich,  the 
most  frequented  port  in  those  days  for  travellers  arriving  from  or 
proceeding  to  Holland,  she  probably  passed  the  body  of  one  of  the 
assassins,  Stem,  as  she  entered  London  by  Mile  End.  However 
this  may  be,  the  young  lady  did  not  "  aj>pear  public,"  lus  the  phrase 
went,  for  six  or  seven  weeks,  and  when  she  did  so,  it  was  found 
that  she  had  just  married  Charles  Seymour,  third  Duke  of  Somer- 
set— a  match  which  made  one  of  two  silly  persons  and  a  couple  of 
colossal  fortunes. 

This  red-haired  lady  met  with  rude  ingratitude  from  the  Duke, 
and  was  designated  by  Swit\  as  ''  your  d— d  Duchess  of  Somerset" 
He  had  reason  to  be  angry,  for  when  she  was  Mistress  of  the 
Robes  to  Queen  Anne,  she  contrived  to  prevent  his  being  raised  to 


SOPIHA  DOROTHEA. 


77 


a  bishopric ;  by  which  she  did  extremely  good  service.  She  was 
the  mother  of  a  numerous  family,  and  her  third  son  married  a 
grand-daughter  of  the  tirst  Viscount  AVey mouth,— the  cousin  and 
heir  of  Tom  of  Ten  Thousand.  She  died  in  the  fifty-sixth  year  of 
her  age,  a.d.  1722 ;  and  the  Duke,  then  sixty-four,  found  speedy 
consolation  for  his  loss  in  a  marriage  with  the  youthful  Lady  Char- 
lotte Finch,  who  was  at  once  his  wife,  nurse,  and  secretary.  A 
very  few  persons  of  extreme  old  age  are  alive  who  saw  her  in  their 
childhood,  when  she  died,  in  the  year  1773.  It  is  said  of  her,  that 
she  one  day,  in  the  course  of  conversation,  tapped  her  husband 
familiarly  on  the  shoulder  with  her  fan ;  whereupon  that  amiable 
gentleman  indignantly  cried  out :— "  Madam,  my  first  wife  was  a 
Percy  ;  and  she  never  took  such  a  liberty ! " 

But  it  is  time  to  revert  to  the  Konigsmark  whose  fate  was  so 
bound  up  with  that  of  Sophia  Dorothea.  He  left  England  with 
his  brother,  and  did  not  pursue  his  researches  after  Protestantism 
at  the  feet  of  any  reformed  Gamaliel  on  the  Continent.  Like  his 
brother,  he  led  an  adventurous  and  roving  life,  never  betraying 
any  symptom  of  the  Christian  spirit  of  the  religion  of  the  Church 
of  England,  of  which  he  first  tasted  what  little  could  be  found  in 
Major  Faubert's  riding  school.  A  portion  of  his  time  was  spent 
at  ihunburg  with  his  mother  and  two  sisters.  His  renown  was 
suflicient  for  a  cavalier  who  loved  to  live  splendidly ;  and  when  he 
appeared  at  the  Court  of  Himover,  he  was  welcomed  as  cavaliers 
are  who  are  so  comfortably  endowed. 


CHAPTER  VH. 


KONIGSMARK   AT    COURT. 

The  estimation  in  which  Count  Philip  Christopher  von  Konigs- 
mark was  held  at  the  Court  of  Hanover,  was  soon  manifested  by 
his  elevation  to  the  i^ost  of  Colonel  of  the  Guards.  He  was  the 
handsomest  colonel  in  the  small  Electoral  army,  and  passed  for  the 
richest.     His  way  of  life  was  warrant  for  the  opinion  entertained 


I 


78 


LIVES  OF  THE    QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


of  his  wealth,  but  more  flimsy  warrant  could  hardly  have  existed, 
for  the  depth  of  a  purse  is  not  to  be  discovered  by  the  manner  of 
life  of  him  who  owns  it.  He  continued  withal  to  enchant  every 
one  with  whom  he  came  in  contact.  The  spendthrifts  reverenced 
him,  for  he  was  royally  extravagant ;  the  few  people  of  taste  spoke 
of  him  encouragingh'i  for  at  an  era  when  little  taste  wa-*  shown,  he 
exhibited  much  in  both  his  dress  and  his  equipages.  These  were 
splendid  without  being  gaudy.  The  scholars  even  could  speak 
with  and  of  him  without  a  sneer  expressed  or  reserved,  for  Philip 
Christopher  was  intellectually  endowed,  had  read  more  than  most 
of  the  mere  cavaliers  of  his  dav,  and  had  a  ^rood  memorv,  with  an 
understanding,  whose  digestive  powers  a  philosopher  might  have 
envied.  He  was  not  less  welcome  to  the  soldier  than  the  scholar, 
for  he  had  had  experience  in  "the  tented  field,"  and  had  earned  in 
the  "imminently  deadly  breach"  much  reputation,  without  having 
been  himself,  in  the  slightest  degree,  "  illustriously  maimed."  Ball- 
rooms re-echoed  with  the  ringing  eulogiums  of  his  gracefulness, 
and  his  witty  sayings  are  reported  as  liaving  been  in  general  cir- 
culation ;  but  they  have  not  been  strong  enough  to  travel  by  the 
rough  paths  of  time  down  to  these  later  days.  He  is  praised,  too, 
as  having  been  satirical,  without  any  samples  of  his  satire  having 
been  offered  for  our  opinion.  He  was  daringly  irreligious,  for 
which  free-thinkers  applauded  him  as  a  man  of  liberal  sentiments, 
believing  little,  and  fearing  less.  He  was  pre-eminently  gay, 
which,  in  moilern  and  honest  English,  means  that  he  was  terribly 
licentious :  and  such  wa>  the  temper  of  the  times,  that  probably 
he  was  as  popular  for  this  characteristic  a*  for  all  the  other  (quali- 
ties by  which  he  Avas  distinguished,  put  together.  Those  times 
must  be  mon*  than  ordinarily  out  of  joint  when  a  man  is  more 
estimablv  accounted  of  for  his  ;;reat  sins  than  for  his  sterlinjr 
virtues. 

There  was  nothing  remarkable  in  the  fact  that  he  speedily 
attracted  the  notice  of  Sophia  Dorothea.  She  may,  without  fault, 
have  remembered  with  pleasure  the  companion  of  her  youth ;  may 
have  "wished  him  well  and  no  harm  done,"  as  Pierre  says.  He 
was  not  a  mere  stranger ;  and  the  two  met.  just  as  the  hu.-band  of 
Sopliia    Dorothea    had    publicly   insulted   her   by   ostentatiously 


SOPHIA   DOROTUEA. 


79 


parading  his  attachment  and  his  bad  taste  for  women,  no  more  to 
be  compared  with  her  in  worth  and  vii-tue  than  Lais  with 
Lucretia. 

What  follows  much  more  nearly  resembles  romance  than  history, 
but  it  is  without  doubt  substantially  true,  and  in  the  details  of  the 
catastrophe  wholly  so.  It  is  asserted  that  the  count  had  scarcely 
been  made  Colonel  of  the  Guards  when  the  Countess  von  Platen 
fixed  upon  him  as  the  instrument  by  which  she  would  ruin  Sophia 
Dorothea,  and  relieve  George  Louis  of  a  wife  whose  virtues  were 
a  continual  reproach  to  him.  The  simplest  and  mo;t  innocent  of 
circumstances  appeared  here  the  basis  whereon  to  lay  the  first 
stone  of  her  edifice  of  infamy. 

The  princess  had  been  taking  some  exercise  in  the  gardens  of 
the  palace,  retuniing  from  which  she  met  her  little  son,  George 
Autrustus,  whom  she  took  from  the  arms  of  his  attendant,  and  with 
him  in  her  arms  began  to  ascend  the  stairs  which  led  to  her  apart- 
ments. Her  good  will  was  greater  than  her  strength,  and  Count 
Konigsmark  happened  to  see  her  at  the  moment  when  she  was 
exhibiting  symi)toms  of  weakness  and  irresolution,  embarrassed  by 
her  burden,  and  not  knowing  how  to  proceed  with  it.  The  count 
at  once,  with  ready  gallantry,  not  merely  proffered,  but  gave  his 
aid.  He  took  the  young  prince  from  his  mother,  ascended  the 
stairs,  holding  tlie  future  King  of  England  in  his  arms,  and  at  the 
door  of  the  apartment  of  Soi)hia  Dorothea  again  consigned  him  to 
maternal  keeping.  They  tarried  for  a  few  brief  moments  at  the 
door,  exchanging  a  few  conventional  terms  of  thanks  and  civility, 
when  they  were  seen  by  the  ubiquitous  von  Platen,  and  out  of  this 
simple  fact  she  gradually  worked  the  subsequent  terrible  calamity 
which  may  be  said  to  have  slain  both  victims,  for  Sophia  Dorothea 
was  only  for  years  slowly  accomplishing  death,  wliich  fell  upon 
the  cavalier  so  surely  and  so  swiftly. 

This  incident  was  reported  to  Ernest  Augustus  with  much  ex- 
aggeration of  detail,  and  liberal  suggestion  not  warranted  by  the 
I'acts.  The  conduct  of  the  princess  was  mildly  censured  as  indis- 
cretion, and  that  of  the  count  as  disloyal  impertinence;  and,  there- 
to, there  seems  to  have  been  added  a  mountain  of  comment  and  a 
misty  worid  of  hints,  which  annoyed  the  Duke  without  convincmg 


80 


LIVES   OF  THE   QUEENS  OF   ENGLAND. 


him.     If  he  had  a  conviction,  it  was  that  von  Platen  was  herself 
more  zealous  than  discreet,  and  less  discerning  than  either. 

Foiled  in  her  first  attempt  to  ruin  Sophia  Dorothea,  she  ad- 
dressed herself  to  the  task  of  cementing  strict  friendship  with  the 
count;  and  he,  a  gallant  cavalier,  was  nothhig  loth,  naught  suspect- 
ing. Of  the  terms  of  this  friendly  alliance  lit.le  is  known.  They 
were  only  to  be  judged  of  by  the  conduct  of  the  parties  whom 
that  alliance  bound.  A  periect  understanding  appeared  to  have 
been  established  between  them ;  and  the  Countess  von  Platen  was 
often  heard  to  rally  the  count  upon  the  love-passages  in  his  life, 
and  even  upon  his  alleged  well-known  admii-ation  of  Sophia  Doro- 
thea. What  was  said  jokingly,  or  was  intended  to  seem  as  if  said 
jokingly,  was  soon  accepted  by  ciisual  hearers  as  a  sober,  and  a 
sad  as  sober,  truth. 

This  first  step  having  been  made,  no  time  was  lost  in  pursuing 
the  object  for  which  it  had  been  accomplished.     At  one  of  those 
splendid  mascpierades,  in  which   Ernest  Augustus  especially  de- 
lighted, which  he  managed  with  consummate  taste,  and  for  which 
he  gained  as  much  reputation  among  the  gay,  as  he  had  deservedly 
won  for  deeds  of  battle,  from  the  brave, — at  one  of  these  gorgeous 
entertainments,  given  about  the  time  of  the  Duke's  eleviuion  to  the 
electorate,  Konigsmark  distinguished  himself  above  all  the  other 
guests  by  the  variety,  as  well  as  richness,  of  his  costume,  and  by 
the  sparkling  talent  with  which  he  supported  each  assumed  charac- 
ter.    II.'  excited  a  universal  admiration,  and  in  none, — to  it  was 
said  by  the   Countess  von  Platen, — in  none  more  than  in  Sophia 
Dorothea.     This  may  have  been  true,  and  the  poor  princess  may 
ix)ssibly  have  found  some  oblivion  for  her  d  juiestic  trials  in  allow- 
ing herself  to  be  amused  with  the  exercise  of  the  count's  dramatic 
talent.     She  honestly  complimented  him  on  his  ability,  and  on  the 
advantages  which  the  fOte  derived  from  his  presence,  his  talent, 
and  his  good-nature.     Out  of  this  compliment,  the  countess  forged 
another  link  of  the  chain,  whereby  she  intended  to  bind  the  prin- 
cess to  a  ruin  from  which  she  should  not  escape. 

The  next  incident  told  is  more  dramatic  of  character,  perhaps 
than  any  of  the  others.     The  countess  had  engaged  the  count  in 
conversation  in  a  pavilion  of  tho  gard.^ns  m  the  electoral  palace, 


SOPHIA    LOUOTIIEA. 


81 


when,  making  the  approach  of  two  gentlemen  an  excuse  for  reti- 
ring, they  withdrew  together.     The  gentlemen  aUuded  to  were 
George  Louis  -and  the  Count  von  Platen ;  and  these  entering  the 
pavilion  which  had  been  just  vacated,  the  former  picked  up  a  glove 
which  had  been  dropped  by  the  countess.     The  prince  recognized 
it  by  the  embroidery,  and  perhaps  by  a  crest,  or  some  mark  im- 
pressed u\)on  it,  as  being  a  glove  belonging  to  his  consort.     He  was 
musingly  examining  it,  when  a  servant  entered  the  place,  profes- 
sedly in  search  of  a  glove  which  the  princess  had  lost.     On  some 
explanation  ensuing,  it  was  subsequently  discovered  that  Madame 
Wreyke,  the  sister  of  the  Countess  von  Platen,  had  succeeded  in 
persuading  the  Prince  Mjiximilian  to  procure  for  her  this  glove, 
on  pretext  that  she  wished  to  copy  the  pattern  of  the  embroidery 
upon  it,  and  that  the  j)rince  had  thoughtlessly  done  so,  leaving  the 
glove  of  Madame  Wrevke  in  its  place.     But  this,  which  min-ht 
have  accounted  for  its  ai)pearance  in  the  pavilion,  was  not  known 
to  George  Louis,  who  would  probably,  in  such  case,  have  ceased 
to  tliink  more  of  the  matter,  but  that  he  was  obligingly  informed 
that  Count  Konigsmark  had  been  before  him  in  the  pavilion  where 
the  glove  was  found, — been  there,  indeed,  with  the  excellent  Count- 
ess von  Platen,  who  acknowledged  the  fact,  adding,  that  no  glovfe 
was  on  the  ground  when  she  was  there,  and  that  the  one  found 
could  not  have  been  hers,  inasmuch  as  she  never  wore  Netherland 
gloves,  as  the  one  in  question  was,  but  gloves  altogether  of  different 
make  and  (juality.     Konigsmark  had  been  there,  and  the  glove  of 
the  Princess  Soj)hia  Dorothea  had  been  found  there,  and  this  ex- 
cellent German  specimen  of  Mrs.  Candour  knew  nothing  beyond. 
This  unlucky  glove  really  effected  as  much  perplexity,  pain,  and 
calamity  as  the    handkerchief  in   Othello.     Thenceforth,   George 
Louis  was  not  merely  rude  and  faithless  to  his  wife,  but  cruel  in 
the  extreme — the  degrading  blow,  so  it  was  alleged,  following  the 
harsh  word.     The  Elector  of  Hanover  was  more  just  than  his  rash 
and  worthless  son  ;  he  disbelieved  the  insinuations  made  against 
his  daughter-in-law,  and  was  probably  disgusted  with  the  domestic 
trouble  with  which  his  electorship  had  been   inaugurated.     The 
electress  was  less  reasonable,  less  merciful,  less  just,  to  her  son's 
wife.     She  treated  her  with  a  coolness  which  interpreted  a  beli«  f 

4* 


82 


LIVES  OF  THE    QUEENS  OF   ENGLAND. 


in  the  slander  uttered  against  her ;  and  when  Sophia  Dorothea 
expressed  a  wish  to  visit  her  mother,  the  electoral  permission  was 
given  with  an  alacrity  which  testified  to  the  pleasure  with  which 
the  Electress  of  Hanover  would  witness  the  departure  of  Sophia 
Dorothea  from  her  court. 

Granting  that  the  incidents  were  all  as  here  related,  the  persons 
who  were  aiFected  hy  them  as  damning  evidence  against  the  wife 
of "  the  electoral  prince,"  as  George  Louis  was  now  called,  must 
have  been  singularly  void  of  penetration,  or  even  of  common  dis- 
cernment. But  some  of  them,  if  they  lacked  clearness  of  judg- 
ment, did  not  want  for  wickedness ;  and,  in  truth,  it  may  be  rather 
said,  that  their  penetration  was  not  at  fault,  but  that  their  wicked- 
ness would  not  permit  of  its  being  exercised. 

Sophia  Dorothea  had  experience  of  this  as  soon  as  she  descended 
at  the  gates  of  her  father's  residence.  She  found  a  mother  there, 
indeed,  ready  to  receive  her  with  the  arms  of  a  mother's  love,  and 
to  feel  that  the  love  was  sliowered  ujwn  a  daughter  worthy  of  it. 
Not  of  like  quality  were  the  old  Duke's  feelings.  Communications 
had  been  made  to  him  from  Hanover,  to  the  effect  that  his  daugh- 
ter was  obstinate,  disobedient,  disrespectful  to  the  elector  and  elect- 
ress, neglectful  of  her  children,  and  faithless  in  heart,  if  not  in  fact, 
to  their  father.  The  Duke  of  Zell  had  been,  as  he  thought,  slow 
to  believe  the  charges  brought  against  his  child's  good  name,  and 
had  applied  to  the  elector  for  some  farther  explanation.  But  poor 
Ernest  Augustus  was  just  then  perplexed  by  another  domestic 
quarrel.  His  son,  the  ever  troublesome  Prince  Maximilian,  hav- 
ing long  entertained  a  suspicion  that  the  Countess  von  Platen's  de- 
nial of  the  light  offence  laid  to  her  charge,  of  wearing  rouge,  was 
also  a  playful  denial,  mischievously  proved  the  fact  one  day,  l)y 
not  very  gallantly  "  flicking"  (a  good  German  word,  as  exi)laining 
the  consequence  of  what  he  did)  from  his  finger  a  little  water  in 
which  peas  liad  been  boiled,  and  which  was  then  a  j)opularIy  mi.-- 
chievous  test  to  try  the  presence  of  rouge,  as,  if  the  latter  were 
there,  the  pea-water  left  an  indelible  Jleck  or  stain  upon  it.  At 
this  indignity,  the  Countess  von  Platen  was  the  more  enraged,  as 
her  denial  had  been  disproved.  She  rushed  to  the  feet  of  the 
elector,  and  told  her  complaint  with  an  energy  as  if  the  whole  state 


SOPHIA   DOROTHKA. 


83 


were  in  peril.  The  elector  listened,  threatened  Prince  Maximilian 
with  arrest,  and  wished  his  family  were  as  easy  to  govern  as  his 
electoral  dominions.  He  had  scarcely  relieved  himself  of  this  par- 
ticular source  of  trouble,  by  binding  Prince  Maximilian  to  his  good 
behavior,  when  he  was  api)lied  to  by  the  Duke  of  Zell  on  the  sub- 
ject of  his  daughter.  He  angrily  referred  the  Duke  to  three  of 
his  ministers,  who,  he  said,  were  acquainted  with  the  facts.  Now 
these  ministers  were  the  men  who  had  expressly  distorted  them. 

These  worthy  persons,  if  report  may  be  trusted,  performed  their 
wicked  otfice,  with  as  wicked  an  alacrity.  However  the  result 
was  reached,  its  existence  cannot  be  denied,  and  its  consequences 
were  fatal  to  Sophia  Dorothea.  The  Electress  Sophia  is  said  to 
have  so  thoroughly  hated  her  daughter-in-law  as  to  have. entered 
partly  into  these  misrepresentations,  which  acquired  for  her  the 
temporary  wrath  of  her  father.  But  of  this  enmity  of  her  mother- 
in-law,  the  younger  Sophia  does  not  appear  to  have  suspected  any- 
thing. She  possessed  not  those  means  of  discovering  the  treachery 
of  such  a  relative,  which,  according  to  Plutarch,  were  to  be  pro- 
cured by  the  nations  of  old.  The  icy-cold  plant  called  the  Phryxa, 
which  grew  on  the  banks  of  the  Tanais,  was  popularly  said  to  be 
tiie  Tuardian  angel  of  those  who  feared  the  machinations  of  step- 
dames  and  mothers-in-law.  If  one  of  the  latter  were  plotting 
against  the  peace  of  her  kindred  by  marriage,  the  plant  set  itself 
on  fire,  and  shot  forth  a  bright  flame  upon  being  looked  at  by  the 
intended  victim.  On  the  other  hand,  the  name  of  a  stei)-dame  or 
mother-in-law  breathed  over  the  white  violet  which  grew  on  the 
banks  of  the  river  Lycormas,  caused  the  flower  to  instantly  wither 
away, — such  antipathy  did  it  bear  to  the  persons  holding  in  fami- 
lies the  rank  and  position  above  named. 

Sophia  Dorothea  had  no  means  of  applying  the  first  test,  nor 
would  she,  even  if  the  application  had  resulted  in  the  discovery  of 
her  mother-in-law's  treachery,  have  had  recourse,  even  if  she  could, 
to  the  test.  She  was  too  gentle  of  nature,  and  she  bore  her  father's 
temporary  aversion  with  a  wondering  patience,  satisfied  that  "  time 
and  the  hour"  would  at  length  do  her  justice. 

The  Duke's  prejudice,  however,  was  rather  stubborn  of  charac- 
fer,  and  he  was  guilty  of  many  absurdities  to  show,  as  he  thought, 


84 


LIVES   OF  TIIK  QUEENS   OF   ENGLAND. 


that  his  obstinacy  of  ill-merited  feeling  against  his  own  child  was 
not  ill-founded.  He  refused  to  listen  to  her  own  statement  of  her 
wrongs,  in  order  to  show  how  he  guarded  himself  against  being 
unduly  biassed :  a  proceeding  which  as  much  ran  counter  against 
profession,  as  that  of  the  old  clergy  of  the  Established  Church  of 
Scotland,  who  had  a  horror  of  theatrical  entertainments,  but  who^ 
nevertheless,  made  a  point  of  going  to  the  play  in  Lent,  that  they 
might  manifest  their  contempt  for  what  they  considered  a  renmant 
of  Popery ! 

The  mother  of  the  princess  remained,  however,  and  naturally 
so,  her  firmest  friend,  and  truest  champion.  If  misrej)resentations 
had  shaken  her  confidence  for  a  moment,  it  was  only  for  a  moment. 
She  knew  the  disposition  of  Sophia  Dorothea  too  well  to  lend  credit 
to  false  representations  which  depicted  her  as  a  wife,  compared 
with  w  hom  Petruchio's  Katherine  would  have  been  the  gentlest  of 
Griseldas.  As  little  did  she  believe, — and  to  the  expression  of  her 
disbelief  she  gave  much  indignant  force  of  phrase, — as  little  did 
she  believe  in  the  suggestions,  rather  than  assertions,  of  the  minis- 
ters of  the  elector,  that  the  iamiliar  tenns  which,  as  they  alleged, 
existed  between  the  electoral  princess  and  Count  KOnigsmark  were 
such  as  did  foul  wrong  to  her  husband  George  Louis.  Those 
terms  were  not  more  familiar  than  those  which  existed  between 
the  electress  herself  and  her  favorite,  Leibnitz  ;  but  the  electress 
was  neither  fair  nor  young,  and  Leibnitz  was  of  neither  a  seductive 
look  nor  age.  The  judges  of  morality  at  once  jumped  to  the  con- 
clusion, that  youth  and  good  looks  were  incompatible  with  propri- 
ety of  conduct. 

The  worst  that  could  have  been  alleged  against  Sophia  Dorothea 
at  this  period  was,  that  some  letters  had  i)assed  between  her  and 
Count  Konigsmark,  and  that  the  latter  had  once  or  twice  had 
private  audience  of  the  electoral  princess.  Whatever  may  be 
thought  of  such  things  here  in  P^ngland,  and  the  present  age,  they 
have  never  been  accounted  of  in  Germany  but  as  commonplace 
circumstances,  involving  neither  blame  nor  injury.  A  corres- 
pondence between  two  persons,  of  the  respective  ranks  of  the 
electoral  princess  and  the  count,  was  not  an  uncommon  occurrence 
. — save  that  it  was  not  often  that  two  such  ]iorsoTis  had  either  the 


SOPHIA   DOliOTHEA. 


85 


taste  or  capachy  to  maintain  such  intercourse.  As  to  an  occa- 
sional interview,  such  a  favor,  granted  by  ladies  of  rank  to  clever 
conversational  men,  was  as  common  an  event  as  any  throughout 
the  empire  ;  and  as  harmless  as  the  interviews  of  Leonora  and  that 
very  selfish  personjige,  the  poet  Tasso.  The  simple  fact  appears 
to  have  been,  that,  out  of  a  very  small  imprudence, — if  imprudence 
it  may  be  called, — the  enemies  of  Sophia  Dorothea  contrived  to 
rear  a  structure  which  should  threaten  her  with  ruin.  Her  exem- 
plary husband,  who  affected  to  hold  himself  wronged  by  the 
alleged  course  adopted  by  his  consort,  had  abandoned  her,  in  the 
woi-st  sense  of  that  word.  He  had  never,  in  absence,  made"  her 
hours  glad  by  letters,  whose  every  word  is  dew  to  a  soul  athirst 
for  assurance  of  even  simple  esteem.  In  his  own  household  his  con- 
versation was  seldom  or  never  addressed  to  his  wife ;  and,  when  it 
was,  never  to  enlighten,  raise,  or  cheer  her.  She  may  have  con- 
versed and  corresponded  with  Konigsmark,  but  no  society  then 
construed  such  conversation  and  correspondence  as  crimes  ;  and 
even  if  they  had  approached  in  this  case  to  a  Hmit  which  would 
have  merited  stern  censure,  the  last  man  who  should  have  stooped 
to  pick  up  a  stone  to  cast  at  the  reputation  of  his  consort  was  that 
George  Louis,  whose  affected  indignation  was  expressed  from  a 
couch  with  ^Mademoiselle  von  Schulemberg  at  his  side,  and  their 
very  old-fashioned  (as  to  look,  but  not  less  illegitimate  as  to  fact) 
baby,  playing,  in  much  unconsciousness  of  her  future  distinction, 
between  them. 

It  was  because  Sophia  Dorothea  had  not  been  altogether  tamely 
silent  touching  her  own  wrongs,  that  she  had  found  enemies 
trumpet-tongued  publishing  a  forged  record  of  her  transgressions. 
"NVhen  Count  Molcke  had  become  implicated  in  the  little  domestic 
rebellion  of  Prince  Maximilian,  ^ome  intimation  was  conveyed  to 
him,  that,  if  he  would  contrive,  in  his  defence,  to  mingle  the  name  of 
Soi>hia  Dorothea  in  the  details  of  the  trumpery  conspiracy,  so  as 
to  attach  suspicion  to  such  name,  his  own  acquittal  would  be 
secured.  The  count  was  a  gallant  man,  refused  to  injure  an  un- 
offending lady,  and  was  beheaded ;  as  though  he  had  conspired  to 
overthrow  a  state,  instead  of  having  tried  to  help  a  discontented 
heir  in  the  disputed  settlement  of  some  family  accounts. 


se 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  EXGLANP. 


The  contempt  of  Sophia  Dorothea  on  discovering  to  what  lengths 
the  intimacy  of  George  Louis  and  Ermengarde  von  Schulemberg 
had  gone,  found  bitter  and  eloquent  expression.     Where  an  angry 
contest  was  to  be  maintained,  George  Louis  could  be  elotiuent  too ; 
and  in  these  domestic  quarrels,  not  only  is  he  said  to  have  been  as 
coarse  as  any  of  his  own  grooms,  but  even,  on  one  occasion,  to 
have  proceeded  to  blows.     His  hand  was  on  her  throat,  and  the 
wife  and  mother  of  a  King  of  England  would  have  been  strangled 
by  her  exasperated  lord,  had  it  not  been  for  the  intervention  of 
the  courtiers,  who  rushed  in,  and,  presumedly  prevented  murder. 
To  such  a  story  wide  currency  was  given,  and  if  not  exact  to  the 
letter,  neither  can  be  said  to  be  without  foundation.     As  little  can 
it  be  said  to  be  without  precedent.     William  the  Norman  was  a 
mirror  of  knighthood,  and  he  is  known  to  have  knocked  down  the 
gentle  Matilda  of  Flanders,  even  in  the  days  of  their  courtship. 
The  blow  did  not  put  a  stop  to  their  wooing,  nor  did  it  delay  a 
merry  wedding,  which  one  would  think  could  hardly  have  been 
merry  under   such    auspices.     Then  there  was  that  paragon    of 
chivalry,  the  elder  Aymon,  sire  of  the  '-Quatre  lils  Aymon"  of 
the  romantic  legend ;  that  gallant  gentleman  was  not  only  accus- 
tomed to  maltreat  his  lady-wife  by  tiiumping  her  into  insensibility, 
but  when  his  eldest  son,  IJeinoKl,  once  ventured  to  comment  upon 
one  of  those  plea-ant  little  dome>:tic  scenes,  to  the  effect  that  they 
interrupted  conviviality,  and  that  his  respected  sire  should  either 
chastise    the    speaker's   mother   more    gently,   or   elsewhere,  the 
kniglitly  father  wa^  so  enraged  at  this  approach  to  interference  on 
the  part  of  a  son,  in  behalf  of  a  mother  who  was  lying  senseless  at 
his  feet,  that,  taking  him  with  one  hand  by  the  hair,  he  beat  his 
face  with  the  other  and  mailed  hand,  into  that  pulpy  consistency 
which,  Professor  Whewell  says,  possibly  distinguishes  the  intere.-t- 
ing  inhabitants  of  the  wide  and  desolate  plane  of  the  phuiet  Jupiter. 
From  this  contest,  however,   the  old  knight   came   out   tu  little 
recognizable  in  human  features  as  his  son,  so  chivalrou.-ly  had 
they  mauled  each  other.     So  much  for  precedent.     The  exam])le 
has  been  followed  in   Germany  since  the  days  of  George  Louis. 
Louis  XVIIL  informs  us  in  his  Memoirs,  that  when  the  daughter 
of  Louis  XVL  found  a  refuge  at  Vienna,  after  her  liberation  from 


SOPHIA   DOROTHEA. 


87 


the  Temple,  she  was  urged  by  the  empress  to  consent  to  a  mar- 
riage with  one  of  the  imperial  arch-dukes,  and  that  the  Empress 
became  at  last  so  enraged  by  the  firm  and  repeated  refusals  of 
"Madame  Royale"  to  acquiesce  in  the  proposal,  that  on  one 
occasion  her  Imperial  Majesty  seized  the  royal  orphan  by  the  arm, 
and  descended  to  ''votes  de  fait;'  in  other  words,  visited  the  young 
and  destitute  princess  with  a  shower  of  hard  blows. 

The  ill-treatment  of  George  Louis  drove  Sophia  Dorothea  to 
Zell,  and  the  wrath  of  her  husband  and  the  intrigues  of  von  Platen 
made  of  that  residence  anything  but  a  refuge.  The  Duke  refused  to 
give  permission  to  his  daughter  to  remain  longer  in  his  palace  than 
was  consistent  with  the  limit  of  an  ordinary  visit.  She  petitioned 
most  urgently,  and  her  mother  seconded  her  prayer  with  energy  as 
warm,  that  for  the  present  she  might  make  of  Zell  a  temporary 
home.  Her  angry  father  would  not  listen  to  the  request  of  either 
petitioner ;  on  the  contrary,  he  intimated  to  his  daughter,  that  if 
she  did  not  return  to  Hanover  by  a  stated  period,  she  would  be 
pennanently  separated  from*  lier  children.  On  the  expression  of 
this  threat  she  ceased  to  press  for  leave  to  remain  longer  absent 
from  Hanover;  and  when  the  day  named  for  her  departure 
arrived,  she  set  out  once  more  for  the  scene  of  her  old  miseries, 
anticipation  of  misery  yet  greater  in  her  heart,  and  with  nothing 
to  strengthen  her  but  a  mother's  love,  and  to  guide  her  but  a 
mother's  counsel.  Neither  was  able  to  save  her  from  the  ruin 
under  which  she  was  so  soon  overwhelmed. 

Her  return  had  been  duly  announced  to  the  Court  of  Han- 
over, and  so  much  show  of  outward  respect  was  vouchsafed  her  as 
consisted  in  a  portion  of  the  electoral  family  repairing  to  the 
country  residence  of  Herrnhausen  to  meet  her  on  her  w  ay,  and 
accompany  her  to  the  capital.  Of  this  attention,  however,  she 
was  unaware,  and  she  passed  Ilernnhausen  at  as  much  speed  ai 
could  then  be  shown  by  electoral  post-horses.  It  is  said  that  her 
first  intention  was  to  have  stopped  at  the  country  mansion,  where 
the  electoral  party  was  waiting  to  do  her  honor ;  that  she  was 
aware  of  the  latter  fiict,  but  that  she  hurried  on  her  way  for  the 
reason  that  she  saw  the  Countess  von  Platen  seated  at  one  of  the 
windows  looking  on  to  the  road,  and  that,  rather  than  encounter 


88 


LIVES   OF  THE   QUEENS  OF   ENGLAND. 


SOPniA   DOROTHEA. 


89 


her,  she  offended  nearly  a  whole  family,  who  were  more  nice 
touching  matter.^  of  etiquette  than  they  were  touching  mattei*3  of 
morality.  The  members  of  this  family,  in  waiting  to  receive  a 
young  lady,  against  whom  they  considered  that  they  were  not 
whhout  grounds  of  complaint,  were  lost  in  a  sense  of  horror  that 
was  farcical,  and  of  hidignation  at  violated  proprieties,  that  must 
have  been  lu*  comical  to  look  at,  as  it,  no  doubt,  was  intense.  The 
farcical  nature  of  the  scene  is  to  be  found  in  the  fact,  that  these 
good  people,  by  piling  their  agony  beyond  measure,  made  it 
ridiculous.  There  was  no  warrant  for  their  horror,  no  cause  for 
their  indignation ;  and  when  they  all  returned  to  Hanover,  follow- 
ing on  the  track  of  a  young  princess,  whose  contempt  of  ceremony 
tended  to  give  them  strange  suspicions  as  to  whether  she  possessed 
any  remnant  of  virtue  at  all,  these  very  sei*ene  i)rinces  and 
princesses  were  as  sui>remely  ridiculous  as  any  of  the  smaller 
people  worshipping  ceremony  in  that  never-to-be-forgotten  city  of 
Kotzebue's  painting,  called  Kriihwinkel. 

AVhen  So})Iiia  Dorothea  passed  by  Herrnhausen,  regardless  of 
the  company  who  awaited  her  there,  she  left  the  persons  of  a  com- 
plicated drama  standing  in  utter  amazement  on  one  of  the  prettiest 
of  theatres.  Herrnhausen,  the  *•  master's  mansion"  was  a  name 
given  to  trim  gardens,  as  well  as  to  the  edifice  surrounded  by 
them.  At  the  period  of  which  we  are  treating,  the  grounds  were 
a  scene  of  delight ;  the  fountains  tasteful,  the  basins  large,  and  the 
water  abundant.  The  maze,  or  wilderness,  was  the  wonder  of 
Germany,  and  the  orangery  the  pride  of  Europe.  There  was  al.>o, 
what  may  still  be  seen  in  some  of  the  pleasure-grounds  of  German 
princes,  a  perfectly  rustic  theatre,  complete  in  itself,  with  but  little 
help  from  any  hand  but  that  of  nature.  The  seats  were  cut  out  of 
the  turf,  the  verdure  resembled  green  velvet,  and  the  chances  of 
rheumatism  must  have  been  manv.  There  was  no  roof  but  the 
sky,  and  the  dressing-rooms  of  the  actors  were  lofty  bowers  (on- 
structed  near  the  stage ;  the  whole  was  adorned  with  a  ])rofusion 
of  gilded  statues,  and  kept  continually  damp  by  im  incessant  i)Iay 
of  spray-scattering  water-works.  The  grand  tableau  of  rage  in 
this  locality,  as  Sophia  Dorothea  passed  unheedingly  by,  must 
have  been  a  spectacle  worth  the  contemplating. 


CHAPTER  Yin. 


THE    CATASTROPHE. 


With  the  return  of  Sophia  Dorothea  to  Hanover,  her  enemies 
appeared  to  have  commenced  more  actively  their  operations  against 
her.  George  Louis  was  languidly  amusing  himself  with  Ermen- 
garde  von  Schulemberg  and  their  little  daughter  Petronilla  Melu- 
sina.  The  Countess  von  Platen  was  in  a  state  of  irritability  at  the 
presence  of  Sophia  Dorothea,  and  the  absence  of  Konigsmark. 
The  last-mentioned  person  had,  in  his  wide-spread  adoration,  off(?red 
a  portion  of  his  homage  to  both  the  countess  and  her  daughter. 
The  elder  lady,  while  accepting  as  much  of  the  incense  for  herself 
as  was  safe  to  inhale,  endeavored  to  secure  the  count  as  a  husband 
for  her  daughter.  Her  *"iilure  only  increased  her  bitterness  against 
the  count,  and  by  no  means  lent  less  asi)erity  to  the  sentiment  with 
which  she  viewed  Sophia  Dorothea.  She  was,  no  doubt,  the  chief 
cause,  primarily  and  ai»proximate,  of  the  ruin  which  fell  upon  both. 

It  was  not  merely  the  absence  of  Konigsmark,  who  was  on  a 
visit  to  the  riotous  court  of  Augustus  of  Saxony,  wliich  had  scared 
her  spirit ;  the  reports  which  were  made  to  her  of  his  conversation 
there  gave  fierceness  to  her  resentment,  and  called  into  existence 
that  desire  of  bloody  vengeance  which  she  accomplished,  but  with- 
out profiting  by  the  wickedness. 

There  was  no  more  welcome  guest  at  Dresden  than  Konigs- 
mark. An  individual  so  galhmt  of  bearing,  handsome  of  feature, 
easy  of  principle,  and  lively  of  speech,  was  sure  to  be  warmly  wel- 
comed at  that  dissolute  court.  He  played  deeply,  and  whatever 
sums  he  might  lose,  he  never  lost  his  temper.  He  drank  as  deeply 
as  he  played ;  not  quite  so  deeply,  perhaps,  as  the  old  Emperor 
^Maximilian,  or  as  the  older  Persians  who  could  boast,  when  they 


»l 


90 


IiIVES  OF   THK   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


had  nothing  else  left  to  boast  of,  that  they  could  drink  more  than 
any  other  men  without  being  overpowered  by  their  liquor.  But 
Konio'smark  was  inferior  to  both  the  Persians  of  old,  and  to  the 
more  modem  toper  Maximilian,  in  discretion  under  wine.  He 
then  became  as  loquacious  as  Ca.^sio,  but  more  given  to  slander. 
He  was  then  as  prodigal,  too,  of  flattery.  No  man  was  more  open 
to  the  double  peril  named  by  Dr.  South,  when  he  said,  that  ''  as  by 
flattery  a  man  opens  his  bo^om  to  his  mortal  enemy ;  so,  by  de- 
traction and  slander  he  shuts  the  same  to  his  best  friends."  It  was 
not  that  he  had  that  secret  propensity  of  the  mind  to  think  ill  of 
all  men,  which  is  followed  by  the  utterance  of  such  sentiments  in 
ill-natured  expressions,  the  which,  according  to  Theophnistus,  con- 
stitutes slander.  He  sjxjke  ill  of  others  out  of  mere  thoughtless- 
ness, or  at  times  out  of  mere  vanity.  He  possessed  not  what  Swift 
calls  the  "lower  prudence"  of  discretion.  "Vanity,"  says  Jeremy 
Collier,  "  is  a  strong  temptation  to  lying ;"  and  in  detailing  its  char- 
acteristics and  consequences,  he  names,  among  others,  that  it 
"makes  men  tell  strange  stories  of  their  interest  and  acquaint- 
ance." Konigsmark  in  some  degree  illustnited  these  remarks ; 
and  his  vanity,  and  the  stories  to  which  it  prompted  him,  seemed 
to  amuse  and  interest  tlie  idle  and  scandalous  court  where  he  was 
so  welcome  a  guest. 

He  kept  the  illustriously  wicked  company  there  in  an  uninter- 
rupted ecstasy  by  the  tales  he  told,  and  the  point  he  gave  to  them, — 
of  the  chief  personages  of  the  Court  of  Hanover.  He  retailed 
anecdotes  of  the  elector  and  his  son,  George  Louis,  and  warmly- 
tinted  stories  of  the  shameless  mistresses  of  that  exemplary  parent, 
and  no  less  exemplary  child.  He  did  not  spare  even  the  Electress 
Sophia ;  but  she  was,  after  all,  too  respectable  for  Konigsmark  to 
be  able  to  make  of  her  a  subject  of  ridicule.  This  subject  he 
found  in  Uidies  of  smaller  virtue  and  less  merit  genenilly.  Touch- 
ing them  his  anecdotes  were  of  a  quality  to  suit  a  "Chronique 
Scandaleuse,"  to  delight  Brantome,  and  to  have  made  the  very 
ghost  of  Boccaccio  smile.  But  every  word  he  uttered,  in  sarcastic 
description  of  tlie  life,  character,  and  behavior  of  the  favorites  of 
the  Elector  of  Hanover  and  his  son,  found  its  way,  with  no  loss  of 
pungency  on  the  road,  to  the  ears  of  those  persons  whom  the  report 


SOPHIA    DOROTHEA. 


91 


was  most  likely  to  offend.  His  warm  advocacy  of  Sophia  Doro- 
thea, expressed  at  the  table  of  Augustus  of  Saxony,  was  only  an 
additional  offence;  and  George  Louis  was  taught  to  think  that 
Count  Konigsmark  had  no  right  to  ask,  with  Pierre,  "  May  not  a 
man  wish  his  friend's  wife  well,  and  no  harm  done?" 

The  count  returned  to  Hanover  soon  after  Sophia  Dorothea  had 
arrived  there,  subsequent  to  her  painful  visit  to  the  little  court  of 
her  ducal  parents  at  Zell.  In  this  connection  of  circumstances 
there  was  nothing  pre-arranged ;  and  no  one  could  be  more  sur- 
prised probably  than  the  count  himself,  when,  shortly  after  his 
resuming  his  duties  as  colonel  of  the  electoral  guard,  he  received 
a  note  from  the  princess,  written  in  pencil,  and  expressing  a  wish 
to  see  him  in  her  chamber. 

The  note  was  a  forged  document, — as  confessed  by  the  Countess 
von  Platen,  when  confession  came  too  late  for  the  repair  of  evil 
that  could  not  be  undone.  Nevertheless,  the  count,  on  presenting 
himself  to  Mad  >.noiselle  Knesebeck,  the  lady  of  honor  to  the  prin- 
cess, was  admitted  to  the  presence  of  the  latter.  This  indiscreet 
step  was  productive  of  terrible  consequences  to  all  the  three  who 
were  present.  The  count,  on  being  asked  to  explain  the  reason 
of  his  seeking  an  interview  with  the  princess,  at  an  advanced  hour 
of  the  evening,  produced  the  note  of  invitation,  which  Sophia 
Dorothea  at  once  pronounced  to  be  a  forgery.  Had  they  then 
separated,  little  of  ill  consequence  might  have  followed.  The  most 
discreet  of  the  three,  and  the  most  perplexed  at  the  "  situation," 
was  the  lady  of  honor.  Tlie  INIemoirs  which  bear  her  name,  and 
which  describe  this  scene,  present  to  us  a  woman  of  some  \\eak- 
ness,  yet  one  not  wanting  in  discernment.  In  proof  of  the  latter, 
it  may  be  stated  that,  as  she  had  long  previously  suspected  the 
count  to  be  a  worthless  libertine,  so  on  this  night  suspicion  was 
followed  by  conviction. 

Sophia  Dorothea,  it  would  seem,  could  dwell  upon  no  subject 
but  that  of  her  domestic  troubles,  the  cruel  neglect  of  her  husband, 
and  her  desire  to  find  somewhere  the  refuge  from  persecution 
which  had  been  denied  to  her  in  her  old  home  at  Zell.  More 
dangerous  topics  could  not  have  been  treated  by  two  such  pcrsonr. 
The  count,  it  is  afhrmed,  ventured  to  suggest  that  Paris  would 


92 


LIVES   OF  THE   QUEENS   OF  ENGLAND. 


SOPHIA   DOROTHEA. 


98 


afford  her  such  a  refuge,  and  that  he  should  be  but  too  happy  to 
be  permitted  to  give  her  such  protection  as  she  could  derive  from 
his  escort  thither.  This  was  probably  mther  hinted  than  suggested ; 
but  however  that  may  be,  only  one  course  should  have  Ibllowed 
even  a  distant  hint  leading  to  so  unwarrantable  an  end.  The  in- 
terview should  have  been  brought  to  a  close.  It  was  still  continued, 
nevertheless,  and  to  the  annoyance,  if  not  scandal,  of  the  faithful 
Knesebeck ;  whose  fears  may  have  received  some  little  solace  on 
hearing  her  mistress  express  a  desire  to  find  at  least  a  temporary 
home  at  the  court  of  her  cousin,  Duke  Anthony  Ulric  of  Wolfen- 
buttel. 

While  this  discussion  was  proceeding,  the  Countess  von  Platen 
was  by  no  means  idle.  She  had  watclied  the  count  to  the  bower 
into  which  she  had  sent  him  by  the  employment  of  a  false  lure, 
and  she  thereupon  hastened  to  the  elector  to  communicate  what 
she  termed  her  discovery.  Ernest  Augustus,  albeit  waxing  old, 
was  by  no  means  iutirm  of  judgment.  If  KOnigsmark  was  tlien 
in  the  chamber  of  his  daugater-in-law,  he  refused  to  see  in  the  fact 
anything  more  serious  than  its  own  impropriety,  lliat^  however, 
was  crime  enough  to  warrant  the  arrest  wliich  the  countess  soli- 
cited. The  old  elector  yielded  to  all  she  asked,  except  credence 
of  her  assurance  that  Sophia  Dorothea  must  be  as  guilty  as  Ktinigs- 
mark  was  presuming.  lie  would  consent  to  nothing  further  than 
the  arrest  of  him  who  was  guilty  of  the  presumption ;  and  the 
method  of  this  arrest  he  left  to  the  conduct  of  the  countess,  who 
urjrentlv  sohcited  it  as  a  favor,  and  with  solicitation  of  such  eani- 
estn^ss  that  the  old  elector  atlected  to  be  jealous  of  the  interest  she 
took  in  such  a  case,  and  added  phiyfully  the  expression  of  his  opin- 
ion, that,  angry-  as  she  seemed  to  be  with  the  count,  he  was  too 
handsome  a  man  to  be  likely  to  meet  with  ill  treatment  at  her 
hands. 

Armed  with  this  permission,  she  proceeded  to  the  body  of  sol- 
diers or  watch  for  the  night,  and  exhibiting  her  written  warnuit 
for  what  she  demanded,  she  requested  that  a  guard  might  be  given 
to  her,  for  a  purpose  which  she  woidd  explain  to  them.  Some 
four  or  live  men  of  this  household  body  were  told  off,  and  these 
were  conducted  by  her  to  a  large  apaitment,  called  the  Hall  of 


Knights  through  which  Konigsmark  must  pass,  if  he  had  not  v«t 
quitted  the  princess's  chamber.  ^ 

They  were  then  informed  that  their  office  was  to  arrest  a  crim- 
inal, whose  person  was  described  to  them,  of  whose  safe  cus.X 
he  elector  was  so  desirous,  that  he  would  nether  that  such  crLind 
hould  be  slam  than  that  he  should  escape.     They  were Tc"^ 
ngly  mstructed  to  use  their  weapons  if  he  should  resist ;  an"t 
.he.r  courage  had  been  heightened  by  the  double  bribe  ^f  nit 
wme  and  a  shower  of  gold  pieces,  they  expressed  their  willingnesl 
to  execute  her  bidding,  and  only  too  well  showed  by  the  isfble 
quent  act  the  sincerity  of  their  expression. 

At  length  Konigsmark  appeared,  coming  from  the  prince..'. 
apartment.     It  was  now  n,id„ight.     He  entered  .he  R.ter     H. , 
as  unsuspecng  of  the  fa.e  betbre  him  as  the  groat  Guise  was  It 

S^irS^o-*""    ;  "^TV"^  "'''  ^'  dark  apartment  in  tL 
Ca.^  le  of  Blois,  and  was  butchered  ere  he  reached  ai.  opposite  door 

ilenri  IIl""'     ""'"   '"   '^""^"''   '^  ""=   "-«•   --^^"-f 
The  elector  had  he  cared  much  for  the  honor  of  his  daughter- 
an-h.w  would  have  investigated  the  case  himself.     The  ImtbTnd 
of  Soplua  Dorothea  might  have  been  summoned  ,o  look  to    U  ow' 
honor  and  ,he  peril  in  which  it  is  sai.l  to  have  stood  tha     i^I 
>m  .t  ,s  remarkable  that  at  this  very  time  he  was  absent  t  a  ^    U 
o  Berhn,  where  lus  sister,  the  Elec.ress  of  Br-andenbur^h,  is   nid 
to  have  almost  called  a  blush  upon  his  cheek  by  her  ,x,r,;a  .ur;"? 
h.s  conduct,  and  a  dnail  of  the  wrongs  by  which  he  had  infl  ctld 
van  misery  upon  his  wife.     In  the  absence  of  these  ,„•. 
ten.  authorities,  the  Electress  of  Hanover  ,.:htr  hrelfT.':^' 
w.,h  any  .ffairs  less  weighty  than  politics,  philosopl.;.  and "L.  ^ 
«ork.  the  Countess  von  Platen  was  soverei-n  for  thp  t,„,„  K 
over  the  small  circle  of  Hanover,  of  whi^he  ^  '.^^  n^:^^^^ 
and  the  sovereign  of  the  hour  wielded  her  might  with  a  p"omm 
and  most  terrific  energj-.  prompt 

In  0.e  Kitten-'  HaH  "there  was  a  huge,  square,  ponderous  stove, 
ooking  like  a  mausoleum,  silent  and  cold.     It  reached  from  floor 
o  roof  and  hidden  by  one  of  its  sides,  the  guard  awaited  thT^m 
.ng  of  the  count.     He  approached  the  spot,  passed  it,  was  seized 


iii 

lll'l 


94  LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS    OF  ENGLAND. 

reputation.     The  la*t  .vorci^  ^^^    ^  .^ 

"Tu'^-'t'Cman  detail  of  this  as.™tion.     It  is  added, 
jee\...ea.o.^|ot.ee.e^,to^^^^^^^ 

L  .h"e  blocly  dLa  «..  enacted  .^hout  any  one  be.ng  a«a:c 

of  .hat  .as  .^in.  on,  save  ^ ;r;^^J^^';,^^^;'  the 

Tn   Cramer's  **  ^lemoirs  ot  the  Loimtess  oi  xvu    ^ 
fate  of  thTcount  is  told  .,.on  the  alleged  evidence  ot  a  so<al led 
fate  ot  the  coun  ;  '  i  .e.pects  from  other  accounts,  bu 

eye-w.tness.    It  dffeis  "  '^^^  '',^„„,,  jj  ;,  „ot  to  be  accepted 

is  clear  and  s.mple  ^"J^J^J^^^  .„  ,he  following  eftect. 
^?r::rZ?r,::reTHeidclberg  in  the  Pa,a.in.e  a 

1^  liL-trk  there,  who  looked  on  while  the  pnncess  worked.    He 
S  a^i  tco;.«dcnce,  fro.  the  electoral  princess's  groon.0 

Z  cha.be,.,  that  ^'^  ;^-^<';^  ^Z:':^^!^^ 
count,  and  h.l  sw^rn  ^^^^^^^^^  ,.„.,  KOnigsmark. 
to  the  princess,  .ho  ;»»'"'^:^™  afterwards  there 

,e  knows  •'ow  ;o     efen^^'-^^^^  ^^^^^-Id  kept  her  bed.    The 
was  an  opera,  but  ^e  PJ>nce»s  ^  ^  ^^^^     .^^^^^^ 


SOPHI.V   DOROIHEA. 


95 


The  hoff-fourier  came  back  running,  and  whispered  to  the  electoral 
prince,  and  tlien  to  his  highness  the  elector.     But  the  electoral 
prince  went  away  from  the  opera  with  the  hoff-fourier.      Now 
Bernard  saw  all  thi.<,  and  knew  what  it  meant,  and  as  he  knew  the 
count  was  with  the  princess,  he  left  the  opera  secretly,  to  warn 
her ;  and  as  he  went  in  at  the  door,  the  other  door  was  opened, 
and  two  ma.^kcd  persons  rushed  in,  one  exclaiming,  *  So !  then  I 
lind  you  ! '     The  count,  who  was  sitting  on  the  bed,  with  his  back 
to  the  door  by  which  the  two  entered,  .started  up,  and  whipped  out 
his  sword,  saying,  *  Who  can  say  anything  unbecoming  of  me?' 
The  princess,  clasping  her  hands,  said,  '  1,  a  princess,  am  I  not 
allowed  to  converse  with  a  gentleman  ?'     But  the  masks,  without 
listening  to  reason,  slashed  and  stabbed  away  at  the  count.     But 
he  pressed  so  upon  both,  that  the  electoral  prince  unmasked,  and 
begged  for  his  life,  while  the  hoff-founer  came  behind  the  count, 
and  run  him  through  between  the  ribs  with  his  sabre,  so  that  he 
fell,  saying,  *  You  arc  murderers,  before  God  and  man,  who  do  me 
wrong.'    But  they  both  of  them  gave  him  more  wounds,  so  that  he 
lay  as  dead.    Bernard,  seeing  all  this,  hid  himself  behind  the  door 
of  t lie  other  room." 

Bernard  was  subsequently  sent  by  the  princess  to  spy  out  what 
they  would  do  with  Konigsmark. 

"  When  the  count  was  in  the  vault,  he  came  a  little  to  himself, 
and  six)ke :— '  You  take  a  guiltless  man's  life.  On  that  I'll  die, 
but  do  not  let  me  perish  like  a  dog,  in  my  blood  and  my  sins. 
Grant  me  a  priest,  for  my  soul's  sake.'  Then  the  electoral  prince 
went  Old,  and  the  fourier  remained  alone  with  him.  Then  Mas  a 
strange  pardon  fetched,  and  a  strange  executioner,  and  the  fourier 
fetched  a  great  chair.  And  wlan  the  count  had  confessed,  he  was 
so  weak  that  three  or  four  of  them  lifted  him  into  the  chair;  and 
there  in  the  prince's  presence  was  his  head  laid  at  his  feet.  And 
they  had  tools  witli  them,  and  they  dug  a  hole  in  the  right  comer 
of  the  vault,  and  there  they  laid  him,  ami  there  he  must  be  to  be 
found.  When  all  was  over,  this  Benihard  slipped  away  from  the 
castle ;  and  indeed  Counsellor  Lucius,  who  was  a  friend  of  the 
Princess's,  sent  him  some  of  his  livery  to  save  him;  for  they 
sought  him  in  all  corners  because  they  had  seen  him  in  the  room 


N 


96  LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS   OF  ENGLAND. 

during  the  affmy And  ^vhat  Benihard  Zayer  saw  in  the 

vault,  he  saw  through  a  crack." 

Clear  as  this  narrative  is  in  its  details,  it  is  contradictory  in 
some  of  them,  and  yet  it  probably  rests  on  some  basis  of  truth. 

The  Countess  Aurora  of  Konigsmark  has  left  a  statement  of 

her  brother's  connection  with  the   princess,  in  which  the  latter's 

innocence  is  ni^intained,  but  his  imprudence  acknowledged.     The 

statement  referred  to,  explains  the  guiUy  nature  of  the  intercourse 

kept  up  between  Ki.nigsmark  and  the  Counters  von  Platen.     It  is 

written  in  terms  of  extreme  indelicacy.     We  may  add  that  the 

faithful  von  Knesebeck,  on  whose  character  no  one  ever  cast  an 

imputation,  in  her  examination  before  the  judges,  argued  the  inno- 

cence  of  her  accused  mistress  upon  grounds,  the  nature  of  which 

cannot  even  be  alludrd  to.     The  princess  it  is  clear  had  urged 

Koni-smark  to  renew  his  intemipted  intrigue  with  von  Platen, 

out  of  dread  that  the  latter,  taking  the  princess  as  the  cause  of  the 

intercourse  having  been  broken  otf,  should  work  a  revenge  which 

she  did  not  hesitate  to  menace,  ui)on  the  princess  herself. 

The  details  of  both  stories  are  marked  by  great  improbability, 
but  they  have  been  in  part  substantiated  by  the  death-bed  confes- 
sions of  the  Countess  von  Platen,  and  Baumain,  one  of  the  guards, 
—the  two  criminals  having,  without  so  intending  it,  confessed  to 
the  same  clergvman,— a  minister  named  Kramer.  Though  the.e 
confessions  are  spoken  of,  and  are  even  cited  by  Gennan  authors, 
their  authenticity  ctumot  perhaps  be  warranted.  At  all  events, 
there  is  what  I  mav  term  an  English  version  of  the  details  of  this 
murder  given  by  Horace  AValpole,  and  as  that  lively  writer 
founded  his  lugubrious  details  upon  authority  which  he  deemed 
could  not  be  gain>aid,  tliey  may  fairiy  find  a  place,  by  way  of 
supplement  to  the  foreign  version. 

*^  Konigsmark's  vanity,"  says  Walpole,  "  the  beauty  of  the 
electoral  princess,  and  the  neglect  under  which  he  found  her,  en- 
couraged his  presumptions  to  make  his  addresses  to  her,  not 
coverdv,  and  she,  though  believed  not  to  have  transgressed  her 
dutv,  did  receive  them  too  indiscreetly.  The  old  elector,  flamed 
at  the  insolence  of  so  stigmatised  a  pretender,  and  ordered  him  to 
quit  his  dominions  the  next  day.     This  princess    sun-ounded  by 


SOPHIA   DOROTHEA. 


97 


women  too  closely  connected  with  her  husband,  and  consequently 
enemies  of  the  lady  they  injured,  was  persuaded  by  them  to  suffer 
the  count  to  kiss  her  hand,  before  his  abrupt  departure ;  and  he 
was  actually  introduced  by  them  into  her  bedchamber  the  next 
morning  before  she  rose.  From  that  moment  he  disappeared,  nor 
was  it  known  what  became  of  him,  till  on  the  death  of  George  I., 
on  his  son,  the  new  king's  first  journey  to  Hanover,  some  altera- 
tions in  the  palace  being  ordered  by  him,  the  body  of  Konigsmark 
was  discovered  under  the  floor  of  the  electoral  princess's  dressing- 
room  ; — the  count  having  probably  been  strangled  there,  the  in- 
stant he  left  her,  and  his  body  secreted.  The  discovery  was  ' 
hushed  up.  George  II.  (the  son  of  Sophia  Dorothea)  entrusted 
the  secret  to  his  wife  Queen  Caroline,  who  told  it  to  my  father ; 
but  the  king  was  too  tender  of  the  honor  of  his  mother  to  utter  it 
to  his  mistress;  nor  did  Lady  Suffolk  ever  hear  of  it,  till  I  iu- 
fonned  her  of  it  several  years  afterwards.  The  disappearance  of 
the  count  made  his  murder  suspected,  and  various  reports  of  the 
discovery  of  liis  body,  have  of  late  years  been  spread,  but  not  with 
the  authentic  circumstances." 

To  turn  to  the  German  sources  of  information  :  we  are  told  by 
these,  that  after  the  departure  of  Konigsmark  from  the  chamber 
of  the  princess,  she  was  engaged  in  arranging  her  papers,  and  m 
securing  her  jewels,  preparatory  as  she  hojK^d  to  her  anticipated 
removal  to  the  court  of  Wolfeiibuttel.  She  was,  of  course,  kept 
in  ignorance  of  the  count's  assassination ;  but  she  was  perplexed 
by  his  disai)pearance,  and  alarmed  when  she  heard  that  all  his 
papers  had  been  seized  and  conveyed  to  the  elector  for  his  exami- 
nation. Some  notes  had  passed  between  them :  and,  innocent  as 
they  were,  she  felt  annoyed  at  the  tliought  that  their  existence 
should  be  known,  still  more  that  they  should  be  perused.  To  their 
most  innocent  expressions  the  Countess  von  Platen,  who  examined 
them  with  the  elector,  gave  a  most  guilty  interpretation ;  and  she 
so  wrought  upon  Ernest  Augustus,  that  he  commissioned  no  less  a 
j)erson  than  the  Count  von  Platen  to  interrogate  the  princess  on 
the  subject.  I  liave  previously  said  that  she  did  not  lack  spirit ; 
and  when  the  coarse-minded  count  began  to  put  coarse  questions 
to  her,  as  to  the  degree  of  intercourse  which  had  existed  between 


98 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF   ENGLAND. 


SOPHIA    DOROTHEA. 


99 


herself  and  the  count,  she  spiritedly  remarked  that  he  appeared  to 
imagine  that  he  was  examining  into  the  conduct  of  his  own  wife, 
a  thmst  which  he  repaid  by  bluntly  informing  her  that  whatever 
intercourse  may  have  existed,  it  would  never  be  renewed,  seeing 
that  sure  intelligence  had  been  received  of  K6nig>mark's  death. 

Sophia  Dorothea,  shocked  at  this  information,  and  at  the  manner 
in  which  it  was  conveyed,  had  no  friend  in  whom  she  could  repose 
confidence  but  her  faithful  lady-in-waiting,  Mademoiselle  von 
Knesebeck.  The  princess  could  have  had  no  more  ardent  defender 
than  this  worthy  attendant.  But  the  assertions  made  by  the  latter 
in  favor  of  the  mistress  whom  she  loved,  were  not  at  all  to  the 
taste  of  the  enemies  of  that  mistress,  and  the  speedy  result  was, 
that  Mademoiselle  von  Knesebeck  was  arrested,  and  carried  away 
to  the  castle  of  Schartzfeld,  in  the  Ilartz.  She  was  there  kept  in 
confinement  many  years ;  but  she  ultimately  escaped  so  cleverly 
through  the  roof,  by  the  help  of  a  tiler,  or  a  friend  in  the  likeness 
uf  a  tiler,  that  the  credit  of  the  success  of  the  attempt  was  given, 
by  the  governor  of  the  gaol,  to  the  demons  of  the  adjacent  moun- 
tains. 

Sophia  Dorothea  had  now  but  one  immediate  earnest  wish, 
namely,  to  retire  from  Hanover.  Already  the  subject  of  a  divorce 
had  been  mooted,  but  the  elector  being  somewhat  feai-ful  that  a 
divorce  might  affect  his  son's  succession  to  his  wife's  inheritance, 
and  even  obstruct  the  union  of  Zell  with  Hanover,  an  endeavor 
was  made  to  reconcile  the  antagonistic  spouses,  and  to  bury  past 
dissensions  in  oblivion. 

It  was  previous  to  this  attempt  being  entered  upon,  and  perhaps 
because  it  was  contemplated,  that  the  princess  voluntarily  under- 
went a  very  solemn  ordeal, — if  I  may  so  speak  of  the,  at  least 
solemn,  ceremony  to  whieli  I  here  allude.  The  ceremony  wa  sas 
public  as  it  could  be  rendered  by  the  presence  of  part  of  the 
electoral  family,  and  the  great  oflicial  dignitaries  of  the  church  and 
government.  Before  them,  Sophia  Dorothea  partook  of  the  sacra- 
ment of  the  body  and  blood  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour,  and  then 
made  solemn  protestation  of  her  innocence,  and  of  her  unspotted 
faith  towai-ds  the  electoral  prince,  her  husband.  At  the  termina- 
tion of  this  touching  ceremony  she  was  insulted  by  an  incredulous 


smile  which  she  saw  upon  the  face  of  Count  von  Platen  ;  whereat 
the  natural  woman  was  moved  within  her  to  ask  him,  if  his  own 
excellent  wife  could  take  the  same  oath  in  attestation  of  her 
unbroken  faithfulness  to  him. 

The  essay  at  reconciliation  was  marred,  or  was  rendered  impos- 
sible, by  an  attempt  made  to  induce  the  electoral  princess  to  con- 
fess that  she  had  been  guilty  of  sins  of  disobedience  towards  the 
expressed  will  of  her  consort..  All  endeavor  in  this  direction  was 
fruitless ;  and  though  grave  men  made  it,  it  shows  how  very  little 
they  comprehended  their  delicate  mission.  The  princess  remained 
fixed  in  lier  desire  to  withdraw  from  Hanover;  but  when  she  was 
informed  of  the  wound  this  would  be  to  the  feelings  of  the  elector 
and  electress,  and  that  George  Louis  himself  was  heartily  averse 
to  it,  she  began  to  waver,  and  applied  to  her  friends  at  Zell, 
among  others  to  Bemstorf,  the  Hanoverian  minister  there,  asking 
for  counsel  in  this  her  great  need. 

Bemstorf,  an  ally  of  the  von  Platens,  secretly  advised  her  to 
insist  upon  leaving  Hanover.  He  assured  her,  pledging  his  word 
for  what  he  said,  that  she  would  find  a  happy  asylum  at  Zell ; 
that  even  her  father,  so  long  estranged  from  her,  would  receive 
her  with  open  arms ;  and  that  in  the  adoption  of  such  a  step,  alone, 
could  she  hope  for  happiness  and  peace  durmg  the  remainder  of 

her  life. 

Worse  counsel  could  not  have  been  given,  but  it  was  given  ex- 
actly because  it  icas  the  worst. 

She  was  as  untruthfully  served  by  some  of  the  ladies  of  her  cir- 
cle, who,  while  professing  friendship  and  fidelity,  were  really  the 
spies  of  her  husband,  and  her  husband's  mistress.  They  were  of 
that  class  of  women  who  were  especially  bred  for  courts  and  court- 
intrigues,  and  whose  hopes  of  fortune  rested  upon  their  doing  credit 
to  thdr  education.  In  some  respect  they  resembled  the  defonned 
and  monstrous  inmates  of  the  human  menagerie  of  the  Emperors 
of  IVIexico ;  hideous  anomalies,  regarded  by  the  Aztecs  as  a  suita- 
ble appendage  of  state,  and  dwarfed  and  twisted  into  hideousness 
by  unnaturaf  parents  desirous  to  procure  a  provision  for  their  off- 
spring by  thus  qualifying  them  for  a  place  in  the  royal  museum. 

As  the  princess  not  merely  insisted  upon  quitting  Hanover,  but 


100 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUKEKS  OF  ENGLANP. 


SOPHIA  DOROTHEA. 


101 


firmly  refused  to  acknowledge  that  she  had  been  guilty  of  any 
wrong  to  her  most  guilty  husband,  a  course  was  adopted  by  her 
enemies  which,  as  they  considered,  would  not  merely  punish  her, 
but  would  transfer  her  possessions  to  her  consort,  without  affecting 
the  long  projected  union  of  Zell,  after  the  duke's  death,  with  the 
territory  of  Hanover.  An  accusation  of  adultery,  even  if  it  could 
be  sustained,  of  which  there  was  not  the  shadow  of  a  chance,  miglit, 
if  carried  out,  and  followed  by  a  divorce,  in  some  way  affect  the 
transfer  of  a  dominion  to  Hanover,  which  tmnsfer  rested  partly  on 
the  rights  of  the  wife  of  the  electoral  j)rince.  A  divorce  might 
destroy  the  ex-husband's  claims  ;  but  he  was  well-i)rovided  with 
lawyers  to  watch  and  guard  the  case  to  an  ultimate  conclusion  in 
his  favor. 

A  consistorial  court  was  formed,  of  a  strangely  mixed  character, 
for  it  consisted  of  the  chief  ecclesiastical  lawyers,  and  some  civil 
authorities  of  Hanover  and  Zell.  It  had  no  other  authority  to 
warrant  its  proceedings  than  the  command  or  sanction  of  the  Elect- 
or, and  the  consent  of  the  Duke  of  Zell,  whose  ill-feeling  towards 
his  child  seemed  to  increase  daily.  The  only  charge  laid  against 
the  princess  before  this  anomalous  court,  was  one  of  incompatibility 
of  temper,  added  to  some  little  failings  of  character ;  that  is,  of  dis- 
position, which  two  lovhig  heart.'*,  warmed  by  a  mutual  respect, 
might  have  adjusted  in  a  few  minutes  by  a  brief  explanation. 

The  court  affected  to  attempt  some  such  adjustment  of  the  mat- 
ter ;  but  as  the  attempt  was  always  based  on  another  to  drag  from 
the  princess  a  confession  of  her  having,  wittingly  or  unwittingly, 
given  cause  of  offence  to  her  husband,  she  continued  firmly  to  re- 
fuse to  place  her  consort  in  the  right,  by  doing  herself  and  her 


cause  extremest  wrong. 


In  the  meantime,  during  an  adjouniment  of  the  court,  she  with- 
drew to  Lauenau.  She  was  prohibited  from  repairing  to  Zell,  but 
there  was  no  longer  any  opposition  made  to  her  leaving  the  capital 
of  the  Electorate.  She  was,  however,  strictly  prohibited  from 
taking  her  children  with  her.  Her  parting  from  these  was  as  pain- 
ful a  scene  as  can  well  be  imagined,  for  she  is  said  to  have  felt 
that  she  would  never  again  be  united  with  them.  Her  son,  George 
Augustus,  was  then  ten  years  of  age,  and  her  daughter,  Sophia, 


two  years  younger.  The  homage  of  these  children  was  rendered 
to  their  mother  long  after  their  hearts  had  ceased  to  pay  any  to 
their  father,  beyond  a  mere  conventional  respect. 

In  her  temporary  retirement  at  Lauenau,  she  was  permitted  to 
enjoy  very  little  repose.     The  friends  of  the  electoral  prince  seem 
to  have  been  anxious  lest  she  should  pubUsh  more  than  was  yet 
known  of  the  details  of  his  private  life.     This  fear  alone  can  ac- 
count for  their  anxiety,  or  professed  anxiety  for  a  reconciliation 
The  lawyers,  singly  or  in  couples,  and  now  and  then  a  leash  ot 
them  tocrether,  went  down  to  Lauenau  to  hold  conference  with.her. 
They  assailed  her  socially,  scripturally,  legally;  they  pointed  out 
how  salubrious  was  the  discipline  which  subjected  a  wife  to  con- 
fess her  faults.     They  read  to  her  whole  chapters  from  Corinthi- 
ans on  the  duties  of  married  l.idies,  and  asked  her  if  she  could  be 
so  obstinate  and  unorthodox  as  to  disregard  the  injunctions  of  bt. 
Paul      Finally,  they  quoted  codes  and  pandects,  to  prove  that  a 
sentence  might  be  pronounced  against  her  under  contumacy,  and 
concluded  by  recommending  her  to  trust  to  the  mercy  of  the  Crown 
Prince,  if  she  would  but  cast  herself  upon  lus  honor. 

They  were  grave  men  ;  sage,  learned,  experienced  men ;  crafty, 
cunning,  far-seeing  men ;  in  all  the  circles  of  the  empire  there  were 
not  inc^n  more  skilled  in  surmounting  difficulties  thim  these  mdefa- 
ti^Me  men,  who  were  all  foiled  by  the  simplicity  and  firmness  of 
a  mere  child.  '•  If  I  am  guilty,"  said  she,  "  I  am  unworthy  of  the 
prince.     If  I  am  innocent,  he  is  unworthy  of  me !" 

Here  was  a  conclusion  with  which  the  sciolist,  as  she  was  ac- 
counted, utterly  confounded  the  sages.  They  could  not  gainsay  it, 
nor  refute  the  logic  by  which  it  was  arrived  at,  and  which  gave  it 
force  They  were  "  perplexed  in  the  extreme,"  but  neither  social 
experience,  nor  scriptural  reading,  nor  legal  knowledge,  afforded 
them  weapons  wherewith  to  beat  down  the  simple  defences  behmd 
which  the  pure  princess  had  entrenched  herself.  They  tried  tried 
repeatedly,  and  tried  in  vain.  At  the  end  of  every  trial  she  slowly 
and  calmly  enunciated  the  same  conclusive  and  insuperable  reply: 
_•'  If  I  am  guihy  I  am  unworthy  of  him.     If  I  am  innocent,  he  is 

unworthy  of  me '."  ,    „   ,       ■•  t 

From  this  text  she  would  not  depart ;  and  aU  the  chicanery  of 


102 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


SOPHIA  DOROTHEA. 


103 


all  the  courts  of  Germany  could  not  move  her.  "  At  least,"  said 
the  luminaries  of  the  law,  as  they  took  their  way  homewards,  re 
infectd^  "  at  least,  this  woman  may,  of  a  surety,  be  convicted  of  ob- 
stinacy." We  always  stigmatize  as  obstinate  those  whom  we  can- 
not convince.  It  is  the  only,  and  the  poor,  triumph  of  the  van- 
quished. 

This  triumph  was  achieved  by  the  Consistory  Court,  the  mem- 
bers of  which,  unable  to  j)rove  the  princess  guilty  of  crime,  were 
angry  because  she  would  not  even  confess  to  the  commission  of  a 
fault ;  that  is,  of  such  a  fault  as  should  authorize  her  husband, 
covered  with  guilt  triple-piled,  to  separate  from  her  person,  yet 
maintain  present  and  future  property  over  her  estates. 

The  court,  however,  was  a  tribunal  which  did  not  embarrass  itself 
much  either  about  law  or  equity,  and  its  decision,  in  December, 
1694,  that  separation  should  be  pronounced,  on  the  ground  of  in- 
compatibility of  temper,  suri)rised  no  one.     The  terms  of  the  sen- 
tence were  extraordinary,  for  they  amounted  to  a  decree  of  divorce, 
without  expressly  mentioning  the  fact.     The  judgment,  wlierein 
nothing  was  judged,  conferred  on  the  prince,  George   Louis,  the 
right  of  marryinrr  again,  if  he  should  be  so  minded,  and  coukl  find 
a  lady  willing  to  be  won.     It,  however,  exjdicitly  debarred  the 
prmcess  from  entering  into  a  second  union.     Not  a  woi-d  was  writ- 
ten down  against  her  alleging  that  she  was  criminal.     The  name 
of  Konigsmark  was  not  even  alluded  to.     Not  withstanding  these 
facts,  and  that  the  husband  was  the  really  guilty  party,  while  the 
utmost  that  can  be  said  against  the  princess  was  that  she  may  ha\  e 
been  indiscreet ;  notwithstanding  this,  not  only  wjis  he  declared  to 
be  an  exceedingly  injured  individual,  but  the  poor  lady,  whom  he 
held  in  his  heart's  hottest  hate,  was  deprived  of  her  property,  pos- 
session of  which  was  transferred  to  George  Louis,  in  trust  for  the 
children ;  and  the   princess,  endowed  with  an  annual  pension  of 
some  eight  or  ten  thousand  thalers,  was  condemned  to  close  capti- 
vity in  the  castle  of  Ahlden,  near  Zell,  with  a  retinur  of  domestics, 
whose  office  was  to  watch  her  actions,  and  a  boily  of  armed  jailers' 
whose  only  duty  was  to  keep  the  ca])tive  secure  in  her  bonds. 

Sophia  Dorothea  entered  on  her  imprisonment  with  a  calm,  if 
not  with  a  cheerful  heai-t ;  certainly  with  more  placidity  and  true 


joy  than  George  Louis  felt,  surrounded  by  his  mistresses  and  all 
the  pomp  of  the  electoral  state.      All  Germany  is  said  to  liave 
been  scandalized  by  the  judgment  delivered  by  the  court,     ihe 
illegality  and  the  incompetency  of  the  court  from  which  it  eman- 
ated were  so  manifest,  that  the  sentence  was  looked  upon  as  a  mere 
wanton  cruehy,  carrying  with  it  neither  conviction  nor  lawful  con- 
sequence.    So  satisfied  was  the  princess'  advocate  on  this  pomt, 
that  he  requested  her  to  give  him  a  letter  declaring  him  non-re- 
sponsible for  having  so  far  recognized  the  authority  of  the  court, 
,i  to  have  pleaded  her  cause  before  it!     What  is  perhaps  more 
sin^rular  still,  is  the  doubt  which  long  existed  whether  this  court 
eve'i-  sat  at  all ;  and  whether  decree  of  separation  or  divorce  was 
ever  pronounced  in  the  cause  of  Sophia  Dorothea  of  Zell,  and 
Georo'c  Louis,  Electoral  Prince  of  Hanover. 

Horace  Walpole  says,  on  this  subject:  "I  am  not  acquamted 
with  the  laws  of  Germany  relative  to  divorce  or  separation,  nor  do 
I  know  or  suppose  that  despotism  and  pride  aUow  the  law  to  msist 
on  much  foimality  when  a  sovereign  has  reason  or  mind  to  get  nd 
of  his  wife.     Perhaps  too  much  difficulty  in  untying  the  Gordian 
knot  of  matrimony,  thrown  in  the  way  of  an  absolute  prince,  would 
be  no  kindness  to  the  ladies,  but  might  prompt  him  to  use  a 
sharper  weapon,  like  that  butchering  hu.band,  our  IlemrVIIL 
Sovereigns  who  narrow,  or  let  out  the  law  of  God,  according  to 
their  prejudices  and  passions,  mould  their  own  laws,  no  doubt    to 
the  standard  of  their  convenience.     Genealogic  purity  of  blood  is 
the  predominant  folly  of  Germany  ;  and  the' Code  ot  Malta  seems 
to  have  more  force  in  the  empire  than  the  Ten   Commandments. 
Thence  was  introduced  that  most  absurd  evasion  of  the  "^<l^^;Ol"- 
bility  of  marriage,  espousals  with  the  left  hand,  as  if  the  Almighty 
had  restrained  his  ordinance  to  one  half  of  a  man's  person,  and 
allowed  a  greater  latitude  to  his  left  side  than  to  his  right,  or  pro- 
nounced the  former  more  ignoble  than  the  latter.   The  consciences 
both  of  princely  and  noble  persons  in  Germany  are  quieted  if  the 
more  plebeian  side  is  married  to  one  who  would  degrade  the  more 
illustrious  moiety;  but,  as  if  the  laws  of  matrimony  liad  no  refe- 
rence to  the  children  to  be  thence  propagated,  the  children  of  a 
left-handed  aUiance  are  not  entitled  to  inherit.     Shockmg  conse- 


I 


•  r 


101 


LIVES   OF  THE   QUEEN'S  OF  ENGLAND. 


SOPHIA  DOROTHEA. 


105 


; 


quence  of  a  senseless  equivocation,  that  only  satisfies  pride,  not 
justice,  and  calculated  for  an  acquittal  at  the  herald's  office,  not  at 

the  last  tribunal. 

"  Separated  the  Princess  (Sophia)  Dorothea  certainly  was,  and 
never  admitted  even  to  the  nominal  honors  of  her  rank,  being 
thenceforward  always  styled  the  Duchess  of  Halle.  Whether 
divorced  is  problematic,  at  least  to  me,  nor  can  I  pronounce,  as 
though  it  was  generally  believed,  I  am  not  certain  that  George 
espoused  the  Duchess  of  Kendal  (Mdlle.  von  Schulemberg)  with 
his  left  hand.  But  though  Gennan  casuistry  might  allow  a  hus- 
band to  take  another  wife  with  his  left  hand,  because  his  legal 
wife  had  suffered  her  right  hand  to  be  kissed  by  a  gallant,  even 
Westphalian  or  Aulic  counsellors  could  not  have  pronounced  that 
such  a  momentary  adieu  constituted  adultery  ;  and,  therefore,  of  a 
formal  divorce  I  must  doubt,— and  there  I  must  leave  that  case  of 
conscience  undecided  until  future  search  into  the  Hanoverian 
Chancery  shall  clear  up  a  point  of  little  real  importance."  Coxe, 
in  his  IMemoirs  of  Walpole,  says,  on  the  other  hand,  very  deci- 
dedly:—" George  I.,  who  never  loved  his  wife,  gave  implicit  credit 
to  the  account  of  her  infidelity,  as  related  by  his  father ;  consented 
to  her  imprisonment,  and  obtained  from  the  ecclesiastical  consistory 
a  divorce,  which  was  passed  on  the  20tli  of  December,  1G94." 

The  researches  into  the  Chancery  of  Hanover,  which  Walpole 
left  to  posterity,  app.car  to  have  l)een  made,  and  the  decree  of  the 
consistorial  court  which  condemned  Sophia  Dorothea  has  been 
copied,  and  published.  It  is  quoted  in  the  Life  of  the  Princess, 
published  anonymously  in  1845,  and  it  is  inserted  below  for  the 
benefit  of  those  who  like  to  read  history  by  the  light  of  documents. 
It  has  been  said  that  such  a  decree  could  only  have  been  pur- 
chased by  rank  bribery,  which  is  likely  enough ;  for  the  courts  of 
Germany  were  so  utterly  corrupt  that  nothing  could  equal  them 
in  infamy, — except  the  corruption  which  prevailed  in  England. 
In  the  very  year  in  which  this  decree  is  said  to  have  been  bought, 
bribery  and  corruption  were  corroding  all  ranks  here,  among  our- 
selves. English  officers  and  soldiers  were  left  unpaid  by  the 
government,  and  allowed  to  exact  subsistence  money  from  the 
owners  of  the  houses  on  whom  tliey  were  quartered.     The  anny 


agents,  even  when  provided  with  funds,  detained  the  soldiers'  pay, 
and  forced  the  men  to  give  extravagant  premiums  for  the  money 
doled  out  to  them.  In  this  very  year.  Colonel  Hastings  was  cashiered 
for  compelling  his  officers  to  purchase  all  their  regimentals  of  him 
at  an  extravagant  rate.     Craggs,  the  contractor  for  clothing  the 
army,  was  deprived  of  his  office,  and  sent  to  the  Tower,  for  re- 
fusing to  exhibit  his  books  ;    and    Killegrew,  Villars   and   Gee, 
commissioners  for  licensing  hackney  coaches,  were  ejected  from 
their  office,  because  they  sold  licenses  which  they  were  commis- 
sioned to  grant  without  fee  or  reward.     These  punishments  were 
inflicted   by  an  indignant  and  pure  House  of  Commons,  which 
compelled  Mr.  P>ird,  an  attorney,  to  go  upon  his  knees,  and  ask 
pardon  of  the  assembly  for  bribery,  or  for  having  been  detected  in 
awkwardly  attempting  to  bribe  certain  members  of  the  House. 
The  senators  who  condemned  were  themselves  corrupt ;  and  in 
the  dirty  path  of  such  corruption.  Sir  John  Trevor,  the  Speaker, 
led  the  way.     He  was  expelled  for  receiving  a  bribe  of  1,000 
guineas  from  the  City  of  London  "  for  passing  the  Orphan  bill  ;'* 
though  men  quite  as  corrupt  were  left  unpunished  for  receiving 
va>t'sums  of  money  from  the  East  India  Company,  in  return  fbr 
facilitating  some  bills  in  which  that  body  was  interested.     The 
method  adopted  by  the  House  to  cure  the  evil  is  a  proof  of  the 
strabismic   morality  which    prevailed.      The    commons   resolved, 
**That   whoever  should  discover   any  money,  or  other   gratuity, 
friven  to  any  member  of  the  House,  for  matters  transacted  in  the 
House  relating  to  the  Orphans  bill,  or  the  East  India  Company, 
should  (himself)  have  the  indemnity  of  the  House  for  such  guilt." 
When  immorality  was  so  universal  in  England  that  Parliament 
could  only  attempt  to  cure  it  in  its  own  body  by  encouraging 
knaves  to  purchase  exemption  from  penalty  by  turning  informers, 
we  must  not  be  too  pharisaically  severe  upon  the  owners  of  the 
names  affixed  to  the  subjoined  decree,  even  if  it  were  purchased 
by  what  Mr.  Paul  Cliflbrd's  Bagshot  friend  was  wont  to  call  "the 
oil  of  palms."     It  deserves  to  be  remembered  that  Horace  Wal- 
pole, who  knew  something  of  the  history  of  corruption,  said  of  the 
Germans  of  his  and  his  father's  tune,  not  only  that  they  were  a 

5* 


i\ 


t.  I 


106 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


civil  and  agreeable  people,  but,  as  he  believed,  "  one  of  the  least 
cori'upted  nations  in  Europe." 

"  In  the  matrimonial  suit  of  the  illu^trious  Prince  George  Louis, 
Crown  Prmce  of  Hanover,  against  his  consort,  the  illustrious 
Princess  Sophia  Dorothea,  we,  constituted  president  and  judges  of 
the  Matrimonial  Court  of  the  Electorate  and  Duchy  of  Brunswick- 
Lunenburg,  declare  and  pronounce  judgment  after  attempts  have 
been  tried  and  have  failed,  to  settle  the  matter  amicably,  and  in 
accordance  with  the  documents  and  verbal  declarations  of  the 
Princess,  and  other  detailed  circum?tances,  we  agree  that  her  con- 
tinual denial  of  matrimonial  dutv  and  cohabitation  is  well  founded 
and  consequently  that  it  is  to  be  considered  as  an  intentional 
desertion.  In  consequence  whereof,  we  consider,  sentence,  and 
declare  the  ties  of  matrimony  to  be  entirely  dissolved  and  annulled. 
Since,  in  similar  cases  of  desertion,  it  has  been  permitted  to  the 
innocent  party  to  re-marry,  which  the  other  is  Ibrbidden,  the  same 
judicial  power  will  be  exercised  in  the  present  instance,  in  favor 
of  his  Serene  Highness  the  Crown  Prince. 

**  Published  in  the  Consistorial  Court  at  Hanover,  December 
28th,  1G94. 

(Signed)     "  Phillip  Vox  Bursche. 

Francis  Eiciifeld  (Pastor). 

Anthony  George  Hildberg. 

gustavus  molax. 

Geriiardt  Art. 

Berniiari)   SriLKEN. 

Erytiiropal. 

David  Hlpertus. 

H.  L.  Hattorf." 
The  work  from  which  the  above  document  is  extracted,  fur- 
nishes also  the  following,  as  the  copy  of  the  letter  written  by  the 
Princess,  at  the  request  of  the  legal  conductor  of  her  case,  as 
"security  from  proceedings  in  relation  to  his  connexion  with  her 
affairs :" — 

"  As  we  have  now,  after  being  made  acquainted  with  the  sen- 
tence, given  it  proper  consideration,  and  resolved  not  to  offer  any 
opposition  to  it,  our  solicitor  must  act  accordinglv,  and  is  not  to 


SOPHIA   DOKOTUEA. 


107 


act  or  proceed  any  further  in  this  matter.  For  the  rest,  we 
hereby  declare  that  we  are  gratefully  content  with  the  conduct  of 
our  aforesaid  solicitor  of  the  Court,  Thies,  and  that  by  this  we  free 
him  from  all  responsibility  regarding  these  transactions. 

(Signed)     "  Sophia  Dorothea. 

'  Lauenau,  December  31,  1694." 

By  this  last  document,  it  would  seem  that  the  IIof-Rath  Theis 
would  have  denied  the  competency  of  the  court,  had  he  been  per- 
mitted to  do  so;  and  that  he  was  so  convinced  of  its  illegality,  as 
to  require  a  written  prohibition  from  asserting  the  same,  and 
acknowledgment  of  exemption  from  all  responsibility,  before  he 
would  feel  satisfied  that  he  had  accomplished  his  duty  towards  his 

illustrious  client. 

Four  months  previous  to  the  publication  of  the  sentence  of  the 
Consistorial  Court,  the  two  brothers,  the  Elector  of  Hanover  and 
the  Duke  of  Zell,  had  agreed,  by  an  enactment,  «hat  the  unhappy 
marriage  between  the  cousins  should  be  dissolved.     The  enact- 
ment provided  for  the  means  whereby  this  end  was  to  be  achieved, 
and  for  the  disposal  of  the  princess  during  the  progress  of  the  case. 
The  anonvmous  author  of  the  biography  of  184.3,  then  proceeds  to 
btate  that,—"  It  was  therein  specified  that  her  domestics  should 
lake  a  particular  oath,  and  that  the  princess  should  enjoy  an  an- 
nual income  of  eight  thousand  thalers  (exclusive  of  the  wages  of 
her  household),  to  be  increased  one  half  on  the  death  of  her  father, 
with  a  further  increase  of  six  thousand  thalers  on  her  attaining  the 
a'^e  of  forty  years.     It  was  pro\ided  that  the  castle  of  Ahlden 
should  Ikj  her' permanent  residence,  where  she  was  to  remain  well 
guarded.     The  domain  of  Wilhelmsburg,  near  Hamburg,  was,  at 
the  death  of  the  Duke  of  Zell,  to  descend  to  the  prince,  son  of  the 
Princess  Sophia  Dorothea— the  Crown  Prince,  however,  during 
his  own  life,  retaining  the  revenues ;  but  should  the  gi*andson  die 
before  his  fVuher,  the  property  would  then,  on  pr^yment  of  a  stipu- 
lated sum,  be  inherited  by  the  successor  in  the  govemment  of  the 
son  of  the  elector.     By  a  further  arrangement,  the  mother  of  the 
princess  was  to  possess  Wienhausen,  with  an  annual  income  of 
twelve  thous^d  th^ers,  secured  on  the  estates  Scheraebeck,  Garze, 


108 


LIVES  OF  TEE    QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


and  Bluettingen ;  the  castle  at  Lunenburg  to  be  allowed  as  her 
residence,  from  the  commencement  of  her  widowhood." 

Never  was  so  much  care  taken  to  secure  property  on  one  side, 
and  the  person  on  the  other.  The  contracting  parties  appear  to 
have  been  afraid  lest  tlie  prisoner  should  ever  have  an  opiwrtunity 
of  appealing  against  the  wrong  of  which  she  was  made  the  victim; 
and  her  strait  imprisonment  was  but  the  effect  of  that  fear.  That 
nothing  might  be  neglected  to  make  assurance  doubly  sure,  and  to 
deprive  her  of  any  help  she  might  hope  hereafter  to  receive  at  the 
hands  of  a  father,  whose  heart  might  possibly  be  made  to  feel  his 
own  injustice  and  his  daughter's  sorrows,  the  Duke  of  Zell  was  in- 
duced to  promise  that  he  would  neither  see  nor  hold  communica- 
tion with  the  daughter  he  had  repudiated. 

The  oath  to  be  taken  by  the  household,  or  rather  by  the  per- 
sonal attendants,  counts  and  countesses  in  waiting,  and  persons  of 
similar  rank,  was  stringent  and  illustrative  of  the  importance 
attached  to  the  safe-keeping  of  the  prisoner.  It  was  to  the  effect, 
"that  nothing  should  be  wanting  to  prevent  anticipated  intrigues  ; 
and  for  the  perfect  security  of  the  place  fixed  as  a  residence  for 
the  Princess  Sophia  Dorothea,  in  order  to  maintain  tranquillity, 
and  to  prevent  any  opportunity  occurring  to  an  enemy,  for  under- 
taking or  imajrining  anvthinj?  which  mijrht  cause  a  division  in  the 
illustrious  familv." 

Wliatever  correspondence  may  have  been  held  by  letter  between 
Sophia  Dorothea  and  Konigsmark,  none  was  ever  forthcoming  to 
accuse  or  absolve.  It  is  indeed  said  that  the  letters  of  the  princess 
to  the  count  were  saved  by  the  valet  of  the  latter,  and  placed  in  the 
hands  of  the  Lowenhaupt  f:miily  in  Sweden,  to  a  member  of  which 
a  younger  sister  of  Konigsmark  was  married ;  and  that  among  the 
archives  of  the  Swedish  family  they  are  still  preserved.  This  is 
a  very  apocrj^phal  story,  and  not  less  apocrjphal  is  the  assertion 
that  some  score  of  letters,  allegedly  from  the  count  to  the  princess, 
were  discovered  by  George  Louis,  and  copies  of  them  sent  to  the 
Duke  of  Zell.  No  mention  was  made  of  such  letters  ^t  the  period 
of  the  trial,  as  it  may  be  called,  of  Sophia  Dorothea,  and  though 
documents,  purporting  to  be  portions  of  this  epistolary-  corres- 
pondence between  Konigsmark  and  the  princess  have  been  made 


SOPHIA  DOROTHEA. 


109 


public,  they  are  entirely  unauthenticated,  bear  neither  date,  name, 
nor  address,  and  are  no  doubt  very  poor  forgeries,  which  may  have 
been  committed  by  the  author,  to  try  his  skill,  but  which  could 
have  brought  as  little  profit  to  himself  as  pleasure  to  his  readers. 

Shortly  after  the  sudden  disappearance  of  the  count,  his  mother 
and  sisters,  residing  at  Hamburg,  made  application  to  be  put  in 
possession  of  some  property  of  their  deceased  relative,  which  had 
been  deposited  by  him  in  the  hands  of  a  banker  of  that  city.    The 
latter  person,  however,  naturally  enough  declmed  to  surrender  his 
trust,  until  sufficient  proof  had  been  adduced  of  the  death  of  the 
alU-ed  late  owner  of  the  property.     The  affair  lingered  for  a  long 
time,  and  its  prosecution  was  productive  of  some  important  conse- 
quence^.     In  the  course  of  that  prosecution,  the  youngest  sister  of 
the  count,  the  Countess  Maria  Aurora,  repaired  to  Dresden  to 
solicit  the  aid  of  the  Elector  of  Saxony,  Frederick  Augustus,  that 
unworthy  prince  who  was  subsequently  the  nnworthy  Kmg  of 
Poland.     The  elector  was  struck  with  the  beauty  of  his  fair  peti- 
tioner, and  appears  to  have  driven  a  hard  bargain  with  the  hand- 
some but  not  too  honest  suppliant.     She  became,  after  a  decent 
show  of  resistance,  first  on  the  roll  of  the  elector's  -  fiivorites,"  and 
in  1G96,  she  gave  birth  to  that  famous  Maurice  de  Saxe,  who 
fou-ht  so  well,  spelled  so  ill,  and  loved  so  lightly :  who  possessed 
no  excellence  save  bravery,  was  entirely  destitute  of  all  virtuous 
principle,  and  is  the   ancestor,  most  boasted  of,  by  his  clever 
descendant,  Madame  "  George  Sand." 

From  the  period  of  the  birth  of  Maurice,  the  Countess  Aurora 
fell,  or  rose,  from  the  condition  of  '•  favorite,"  to  that  of  counsellor 
and  friend.  Even  Augustus's  poor  consort  is  said  to  have  looked 
with  something  of  patience  and  even  regard  upon  the  only  one  of 
the  mistresses  of  her  wretched  husband  who  treated  her  with 
respect.  But  what  a  condition  must  mark  that  household,  wherein 
a  ne-lected  wife  is  reduced  to  the  degradation  of  feeling  grateful 
for  Ihtle  attentions  from  the  hands  of  her  husband's  mistress !  To 
t^uch  degradation  Sophia  Dorothea  would  never  submit. 

The  Countess  Aurora  had  been  so  triumphant,  and  yet  so  tn- 
umphed  over,  when  a  suppliant  to  Augustus,  that  the  elector,  in 
1702,  when  reduced  to  the  most  miserable  extremity  by  the  victo- 


110  LIVES  OP  THE   QUEENS  OF   ENGLAND. 

rious  Charles  XII.,  dispatched  her  upon  the  diplomatic  mission  of 
softening  that  monarch's  not  very  susceptible  heart.  The  ambas- 
sadress was  one  of  those  women  who  fancy  that  they  can  overcome 
any  one  who,  while  listening  to  their  power  of  tongue,  ventures  to 
look  mto  their  eyes.  By  n.agic  of  the  latter,  and  of  speech  made 
up  ot  very  persuasive  arguments.  Aurora  fondly  hoiK,d  to  touch 
the  sens.b.hties  that  were  supposed  to  be  buttoned-up  bene.ith  the 
unbrushed  coat  of  the  stoical  Charles.  The  latter,  distrustin.^  his 
own  possible  weakness,  and  dreading  the  huly's  united  powers, 
^howed  hnnself  a  true  hero  by  avoiding  the  temptarion  lh«,wn  in 
his  way,  and  when  the  rountess  solicited  an  audience  he  stoutly 
refused  to  see  her.  MVell!"  .x-marked  the  blushing  Aurora, 
strivmg  at  the  same  time  to  wreath  the  blush  of  vexation  with  the 
sunniest  ot  her  smiles,  -I  am  the  only  ,M>rson  on  whom  the  Ku.<r 
ot  Sweden  ever  turned  his  back ! "  " 

This  want  of  diplomatic  success  laid  her  more  open  than  she 
had  ever  been  before  to  the  intrigues  of  her  more  brazen  but  less 
•ntellcctual  nvals;  and  Maria  Auix,ra  was  dismissed   fmm  the 
court  of  her  so-called  •■  protector."    It  is  good  that  vice  should  be 
exposed  to  such  downfall,  and  that  women  who,  like  the  lovely 
Aurora,  can  plead  guilty  to  but  a  single  fault,  should  be  subject  to 
a  treatment  which  is  severe  discipline  to  themselves,  and  profitable 
e.xi,mple-.f  their  sisters  would  but  only  condescend  to  benefit  by  it 
Aurora  in  her  retirement  more  nearly  resembled  Madame  de  hi 
\  a  here  th.-u.  Ileloise.     She  provd  a  noble  mother  to  her  superb 
and  gracless  son, and  she  did  not  ,.ass  her  time  in  the  composition 
of  ardent  epistolary  reminiscences  of  guilty  pleasures,  wher.in  the 
expressed  contempt  for  by-gone  dear  delights  cannot  .-onceal  the 
writers  regret  that  they  were  no  longer  to  be  enjoved.     Aurora 
finally  retired  to  the  Protestant  Abbey  of  Quedlinburg,  in  what 
then  was  Lower  Saxony,  and  beguiled  her  long  leisure  hours  by 
meditations,  tlmt  would  do  honor  to  Knimacher,  and  by  livmii- 
far  more  spiritual  and  sensible  than  those  heavenly  son-s  of  the 
quietist  Madame   Guyon.  and    which    read    so   very    much    like 

s,.rightly  strains  "wrif  by  Dan  Prior,  and  ••  set  -  by  mellifluous 
I  ravers.  • 

The  ladies  of  the  abbej  still  exhibit,  with  authorized  pride,  the 


SOPHIA   DOROTHEA. 


Ill 


manuscript  collection  of  psalms  and  hymns,  the  composition  of 
which  shows  that  their  authoress  had  warmer  love  for  Heaven  than 
she  ever  had  for  man. 

Her  position  here  was  one  in  which  a  weaker  nature  and  a  less 
sincere  person  would  have  been  liable  to  be  surrendered  to  the  ex- 
ercise of  much  worldly  pride.  Quedlmburg  on  the  Bode,  now  in 
Prussia,  was  an  imperial  free  city,  in  which  emperors  had  kept 
their  state,  the  Church  held  councils,  and  the  city  imprisoned  its 
counts  in  oaken  cages.  The  nunnery  of  the  abbey  was  founded 
by  Matilda,  the  wife  of  the  Emperor  Henry  the  Fowler,  Tho 
abbesses  resided  in  the  castle,  which  dominates  above  the  town, 
and  originally  they  were  ex-officio  princesses  of  the  empire,  inde- 
pendent of  all  spiritual  sovereignty  save  that  of  the  Pope,  pos- 
sessors of  a  vote  in  the  Diet,  and  a  seat  on  the  bench  of  Hhenish 
bishops.  The  entire  touii,  including  all  the  convents,  nunneries, 
and  adjacent  extensive  domains,  belonged  to  the  abbess,  who 
counted  among  her  vassals  as  many  nobles  of  high  rank  as,  among 
lier  nuns,  ladies  of  roval  and  noble  birth.  When  Auroi*a  of 
Konigsmark  became  prioress  of  the  community,  the  old  splendor 
had  been  somewhat  diminished,  and  what  was  left  was  a  trifle  tar- 
nished too.  The  feudal  sovereignty  departed  from  it  at  the 
Reformation,  when  the  aljbess  adopted  the  Lutheran  faith,  and  lost 
the  greater  part  of  the  abbey  estates.  Still,  in  Aurora's  time, 
there  was  much  of  splendor  left ;  its  last  spark  went  out  in  1802, 
when  the  King  of  Pru.<sia  sequestrated  the  convent,  and  converted 
it,  in  part,  into  a  school. 

Had  Aurora  been  a  weak  woman,  her  pride  would  have  lived 
liere  with  her  beautv ;  the  former  died  earlv,  the  latter  lived  with 
lier  to  the  end.  She  was  superb,  even  throughout  her  declining 
life,  and  when  she  died,  hi  1725,  there  passed  away  to  her  account 
a  woman,  not  without  sin,  but  also  not  without  a  sincere  repen- 
tance. 

Reader,  and  especially  young  reader, — if  thou  shouldst  ever 
visit  Quedlinburg,  you  may  see  there  a  better  sermon  than  thou 
art  likely  to  hear.  Descend  with  the  goo<l-natured  and  willing 
sexton  into  the  vault  below  the  Stifter  Kirche.  On  the  right  side 
of  the  vault  there  is  a  coffin,  the  lid  of  which  he  will  remove  with 


112 


LIVES   OF  THE   QUEENS   OF  ENGLAND. 


a  singular  alacrity.  Look  into  it,  and  learn  from  what  thou  lookcst 
on.  That  poor,  brown,  dusty  mummy  is  all  that  remains  of  the 
most  beautiful  woman  of  her  time.  That  wretched  but  Fuggestive 
ruin  once  tabernacled  the  "immortal  spark"  which  yet  irves,— 
but  where  ?  There  is  a  sermon  in  the  sight,  and  deep  instruction 
HI  the  thoucrht. 

We  must  leave  both,  however,  to  turn  to  another  lady,  who,  as 
It  IS  believed,  sinned  less  but  suffered  lon^^er. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


PRISON  AND  PALACE. 


The  Ciustle  of  Ahlden  is  situated  on  the  small  and  slurr.ri.h 
stream,  the  Aller;  and  seems  to  guard,  as  it  once  oppressecPthe 
little  village  sloping  at  its  ieet.  This  edifice  was  ai)pointed  as'  tlie 
prison-place  of  Sophia  Dorothea ;  and  from  the  territory  <he 
acquired  a  title,  that  of  Duchess  of  Ahlden.  She  wa.s  mockin-ly 
called  sovereign  lady  of  a  locality  where  all  were  free  but  hersdff 

On  looking  over  the  list  of  tlie  household  which  was  formed  for 
the  service,  if  the  i)hrase  be  one  that  may  be  admitted,  of  her 
captivity,  the  first  thing  that  strikes  us  as  singular,  is  the  presence 
of  "tliree  cooks,"_a  triad  of  "ministers  of  the  mouth"  for  one 
poor  imprisoned  lady ! 

The  singularity  vanishes  when  we  find  that  around  this  enca-ed 
Duchess  there  circled  a  really  extensive  household,  and  there  lived 
a  world  of  ceremony,  of  which  no  one  was  so  much  the  slave  as 
she  was.     Her  captivity,  in  its  commencement,  wa.  decked  with  a 
certain  sort  of  splendor,— about  which  s/ie.  who  was  its  object 
cared  by  far  the  least.     There  was  a  military  governor  of  the  cas-' 
tie,  gentlemen  and  ladies  in  waiting ;  spies  all.    Among  the  hone^ter 
.servants  of  the  house,  were  a  brace  of  pages  and  as  many  valets 
a  dozen  female  domestics,  and  fourteen  footmen,  who  had  to  under' 
go  the  intense  labor  of  doing  very  little  in  a  very  lengthened  .pace 
of  time.     To  supply  the  material  wants  of  these,  the  three  cook«« 
one  confectioner,  a  baker,  and  a  butler,  were  provi<led      There 


SOPHIA  DOROTHEA. 


113 


was,  beside?,  a  military  force,  consisting  of  infantry  and  artillery. 
It  must  have  cost  the  governor  as  little  trouble  and  as  much  pride 
to  manoeuvre,  as  the  army  of  Thraso  cost  that  valiant  captain, 
when  he  laid  such  glorious  siege  to  the  strong  fortress  of  that  ex- 
emplary lady,  Tliais,  in  order  to  recover  Famphila.  Altogether, 
there  must  have  been  work  enough  for  the  three  cooks. 

The  forms  of  a  court  were  long  maintained,  although  only  on  a 
small  scale.  The  duchess  held  her  little  levees,  and  the  local 
authorities,  clergy,  and  neighboring  nobility  and  gentry,  offered 
her  such  respect  as  could  be  manifested  by  paying  her  visits  on 
certain  appointed  days.  These  visits,  however,  were  always  nar- 
rowly watched  by  the  officials,  whose  office  lay  in  such  service, 
and  was  hid  beneath  a  show  of  duty. 

The  successive  goveniors  of  the  castle  were  men  of  note,  and 
their  presence  betokened  the  importance  attached  to  the  person 
and  safe-keeping  of  the  captive.  During  the  first  three  years  of 
her  imprisonment,  the  past  of  governor  was  held  by  the  Hof 
Grand-Marshal  von  Bothmar.  He  was  succeeded  by  the  Count 
Bergest,  who  enjoyed  his  equivocal  dignity  of  gaoler-govemor 
about  a  quarter  of  a  century.  During  the  concluding  years  of  the 
imprisonment  of  Sophia,  her  seneschal  was  a  relative  of  one  of 
her  judges,  Georg  von  Busche. 

These  men  behaved  to  their  prisoner  with  as  much  courtesy  as 
they  dared  to  show ;  nor  was  her  captivity  a  severe  one,  in  any- 
thing but  the  actual  deprivation  of  liberty,  and  of  all  intercourse 
with  those  she  best  loved,  until  after  the  first  few^  years.  The 
escape  of  Mdlle.  Knesebeck  from  her  place  of  confinement  appears 
to  have  given  the  husband  of  Sophia  Dorothea  an  affectionate 
uneasiness,  which  he  evidenced  by  giving  orders  that  his  wife's 
safe-keeping  should  be  maintained  with  greater  stringency. 

From  the  day  of  the  issuing  of  that  order,  she  was  never  allow- 
ed to  walk,  even  in  the  garden  of  the  castle,  without  a  guard.  She 
never  rode  out,  or  drove  through  the  neighboring  woods,  without  a 
stron""  escort.  Even  parts  of  the  castle  were  prohibited  from  being 
intruded  upon  by  her ;  and  so  much  severity  was  shown  in  this 
respect,  that  when,  on  one  occasion,  a  fire  broke  out  in  the  edifice, 
to  escape  from  which  she  must  have  traversed  a  gallery  wliich  she 


114 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF   ENGLAND. 


was  fori)idden  to  pass,  she  stood  short  of  the  proscribed  limit,  her 
jewel-box  in  her  arms,  and  herself  in  almost  speechless  teri-or,  but 
*  refusing  to  advance  beyond  the  prohibited  line,  until  permission 
reached  her  from  the  proper  authority. 

On  such  a  prisoner,  time  must  have  hung  especially  heavy.  She 
had,  however,  many  resources,  and  made  every  hour  have  its  occu- 
pation. She  was  the  land-steward  of  her  Httle  ducal  estate,  and 
performed  all  the  duties  of  that  office.  She  kept  a  diary  of  her 
thoughts  as  well  as  actions  ;  and  if  this  be  extant  it  would  be  well 
worthy  of  being  published.  Her  correspondence,  during  the  period 
she  was  pemiitted  to  write,  was  extensive.  Every  day  she  hud 
interviews  with,  and  gave  instructions  to,  each  of  her  servants, 
from  the  chief  of  the  three  cooks,  downward-.  With  this,  she  was 
as  personally  active  in  charity  as  the  good  Duke  de  Pent  hie  vre 
and  his  secretary  Florian,  whose  very  sport  it  was  to  vie  with  each 
other  in  discovering  the  greater  number  of  objects  worthy  of  being 
relieved.  Finally,  she  wa;  the  Lady  Bountiful  of  the  district, 
laying  out  half  her  income  in  charitable  uses  for  the  good  of  her 
neighbors,  and,  as  Boniface  said  of  the  good  lady  of  Lichfield, 
"curing  more  people  in  and  about  the  place  within  ten  years, than 
the  doctors  had  killed  in  twenty;  and  that's  a  lx>ld  word."  Of 
George  Louis  it  may  be  s-aid,  what  Cherry's  thirsty  father  said  of 
Lady  Bountiful's  son.  Squire  Sullen,  ^Uhathe  wasaman  of  agi'eat 
estate,  who  valued  nobiKly." 

There  was  a  church  in  the  village,  which  was  in  rather  ruinous 
condition  when  her  captivity  commenced,  but  this  she  put  in 
thorough  repair,  decorated  it  handsomely,  presented  it  with  an 
or*»an, — and  was  refuseil  iiermission  to  attend  there,  after  it  had 
been  re-opened  for  public  service.  For  her  religious  consolation, 
a  chaplain  had  been  provided,  and  she  was  never  trusted,  even 
under  guaixl,  to  join  with  the  villagers  in  common  worship  hi  the 
church  of  the  village  below.  In  this  r^-spect,  a  somewhat  royal 
etiquette  was  observed.  The  chaplain  read  prayers  to  the  garri- 
son and  household  in  one  room,  to  which  the  princess  and  her 
ladies  listened  rather  than  therewith  joined,  placed  as  they  were 
in  an  adjacent  room,  where  tliey  could  hear  without  being  seen. 

With  no  relative  was  she  allowed  to  hold  never  so  brief  an 


SOPHIA  DOROTHEA. 


115 


interview ;  and  not  even  her  mother  was  pei-mitted  to  soften  by 
her  presence  for  an  hour,  the  rigid  and  ceremonious  captivity  of  ^ 
her  luckless  daughter.  Mother  and  child  were  allowed  to  corres-  ' 
pond  at  stated  periods,  their  letters  passing  open ;  but  the  princess 
herself  was  as  much  cut  off  from  her  own  children,  as  if  these  had 
been  dead  and  entombed.  The  little  prince  and  princess  were 
expressly  ordered  to  utterly  forget  that  they  had  a  mother, — her 
very  name  on  their  lips  would  have  been  condemned  as  a  grievous 
fault.  The  boy,  George  Augustus,  was  in  many  points  of  character 
similar  to  his  father,  and,  accordingly,  being  commanded  to  forget 
his  mother,  he  obstinately  bore  her  in  memory ;  and  when  he  was 
told  that  he  would  never  have  an  opportunity  afforded  him  to  see 
her,  mentally  resolved  to  make  one  for  himself. 

It  is  but  justice  to  the  old  elector  to  say  that  in  his  advanced 
years,  when  pleasant  sins  were  no  longer  profitable  to  him,  he 
gave  them  up ;  and  when  the  youngest  of  his  mistresses  had  cea;5ed 
to  be  attractive,  he  began  to  think  such  appendages  little  worth  the 
hanging  on  to  his  electoral  dignity.  For,  ceasing  to  love  and  live 
with  his*' favorites,"  he  did  not  the  more  respect,  or  hold  closer 
intercourse  with,  his  wife,— a  course  about  which  the  Electress 
Sophia  troubled  herself  very  little.  The  elector,  in  short,  was 
very  much  like  the  gentleman  in  the  epigram,  who  said : — 

I've  lost  my  mistress,  horse,  and  wife, 
And  when  I  think  on  human  life, 

'Tis  well  that  it's  no  worse  ! 
My  mistress  had  grown  lean  and  old, 
My  wife  was  ugly  and  a  scold ; — 

I'm  sorry  for  my  horse  I 

In  his  later  days,  Ernest  Augustus,  having  little  regard  for  his 
wife  or  favorites,  began  to  have  much  for  the  good  things  of  the 

earth, a  superabundance  of  which,  as  Johnson  reminded  Garrick, 

makes  death  so  terrible.  Wlien  he  ceased  to  be  under  the  in- 
fluence of  the  disgraced  Countess  von  Platen,  he  began  to  be 
sensible  of  some  sympathy  for  his  daughter-in-law,  Sophia.  He 
Boftened  in  some  degree  the  rigor  of  her  imprisonment,  and  corres- 
ponded with  her  by  letter ;  a  correspondence  which  inspired  her 
with  hope  that  her  freedom  might  result  from  it.     This  hope  wjis, 


116 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


however,  frustrated  by  the  death  of  Ernest  Augustus,  on  the  20th 
of  January,  1698.  From  that  time,  the  rigor  of  her  imprisonment 
was  increased  fourfold. 

If  the  heart  of  her  old  uncle  began  to  incline  towards  her  as  he 
increased  in  years,  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  the  heart  of  her 
an-ed  father  melted  towards  her  as  time  began  to  press  heavily 
upon  him.  But  it  was  the  weakest  of  hearts  allied  to  the  weakest 
of  minds.  In  the  comfortlessness  of  his  great  age,  he  sought  to  be 
comforted  by  loving  her  whom  he  had  insanely  and  unnaturally 
oppressed — the  sole  child  of  his  heart  and  house.  In  his  weakness 
he  addressed  himself  to  that  tool  of  Hanover  at  Zell,  the  minister 
Bernstorf;  and  that  individual  so  terrified  the  poor  old  man  by 
details  of  the  ill  consequences  that  might  ensue  if  the  wrath  of  the 
new  elector,  George  Louis,  were  aroused  by  the  interference  of 
the  Duke  of  Zell,  in  matters  which  concerned  the  elector  and  his 
wife,  that  the  old  man,  feeble  in  mind  and  body,  yielded,  and,  for 
a  time  at  least,  left  his  daughter  to  her  fate.  He  thought  to  com- 
pensate for  the  wrong  which  he  inflicted  on  her  under  the  impulse 
of  his  evil  genius,  Bernstorf,  by  adding  a  codicil  to  his  will, 
wherein  the  name  of  his  daughter  is  mentioned  with  an  implied 
love  which  reminds  one  of  the  "  and  Peter,"  after  the  denial,  and 
which  told  the  other  Apostles  that  love  divine  had  not  perished 
because  of  one  poor  mortal  otfence. 

By  this  codicil  he  bequeathed  to  the  daughter  whom  he  had 
wronged,  all  that  it  was  in  his  iK)wer  to  leave,  in  jewels,  moneys, 
and  lands ;  but  liberty  he  could  not  give  her,  and  so  his  love  could 
do  little  more  than  try  to  lighten  the  fetters  which  he  had  aided  to 
put  on.  But  there  was  a  short-lived  joy  in  store,  both  for  child 
and  parents.  The  fetters  were  to  be  cast  aside  for  a  brief  season, 
and  the  poor  captive  was  to  enjoy  an  hour  of  home,  of  love,  and  of 

liberty. 

The  last  year  of  the  seventeenth  century  (1700)  brought  with 
it  an  accession  of  greatness  to  the  electoral  family  of  Hanover, 
ina>much  as  in  that  year  a  bill  was  introduced  into  parliament, 
and  accepted  by  that  body,  which  fixed  the  succession  to  the  crown 
of  England  after  the  Princess  Anne,  and  in  deftxult  of  such 
princess  dying  without  heirs  of  her  own  body,  in  the  person  of 


SOPHIA  DOROTHEA. 


117 


Sophia  of  Ilanovrer.     William  III.  had  been  very  desirous  for  the 
introduction  of  this  bill,  but  under  various  pretexts  it  had  been 
deferred,  the  commonest  business  being  allowed  to  take  precedence 
of  it,  until  the  century  had  nearly  expired.     The  limitations  to  the 
royal  action,  which  formed  a  part  of  the  bill  as  recommended  in 
the  report  of  the  committee,  were  little  to  the  king's  taste  ;  for 
they  not  only  affected  his  employment  of  foreign  troops  in  Eng- 
land, but  shackled  his  own  free  and  frequent  departures  from  the 
kingdom.     It  was  imagined  by  many  that  these  limitations  were 
designed  by  the  leaders  in  the  cabinet,  in  order  to  raise  disputes 
between  the  two  houses,  by  which  the  bill  might  be  lost.     Such  is 
Burnet's  report,  and  he  sarcastically  adds  thereto,  that  when  much 
time  had  been  spent  in  preliminaries,  and  it  was   necessary  to 
come  to  the  nomination  of  the  person  who  should  be  named  pre- 
sumptive heir  next  to  Queen  Anne,  the  office  of  doing  so  was 
confided  to  "  Sir  John  Bowles,  who  was  then  disordered  in  his 
senses,  and  soon  after  quite  lost  them."     "  He  was,"  says  Burnet, 
**  set  on  by  the  same  party  to  be  the  first  that  should  name  the 
Electress-dowagor  of  Brunswick,  which  seemed  done  to  make  it 
less  serious  when  moved  by  such  a  person."     So  that  the  solemn 
question  of  naming  the  heir  to  a  throne  was  intrusted  to  an  idiot, 
who,  by  the  forms  of  the  house,  was  appointed  chairman  of  the 
committee  for  the   conduct   of  the  bill.     Burnet  adds,  that  the 
"  thing,"  as  he  calls  it,  was  "  still  put  off  for  many  weeks  at  every 
time  that  it  was  called  for ;  the  motion  was  entertained  with  cold- 
ness, which  served  to  heighten  the  jealousy;  the  committee  once  or 
twice  sat  upon  it,  but  all  the  members  ran  out  of  the  house  with 
so  much  indecency,  that  the  contrivers  seemed  ashamed  of  this 
management ;  there  were  seldom  fifty  or  sixty  at  the  committee, 
yet  in  conclusion  it  passed,  and  was  sent  up  to  the  Lords."     Great 
opposition  was  expected  from  the  peers,  and  many  of  their  lord- 
ships designedly  absented  themselves  from  the  discussion.     The 
opposition°was  slight,  and  confined  to  the  Marquis  of  Normanby, 
who  spoke,  and  the  Lords  Huntingdon,  Plymouth,  Guildford,  and 
Jefferies,   who  protested,  against  the  bill.     Buniet  affirms,  that 
*'  those  who  wished  well  to  the  Act  were  glad-  to  have  it  passed 
any  way,  and  so  would  not  exammc  the  limitations  that  were  in  it, 


118 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


and  which  they  thought  might  be  considered  afterwards.  "  We 
reckoned  it,"  says  Buniet,  "  a  great  point  carried  that  we  had  now 
a  law  on  our  side  for  a  Protestant  successor."  The  law  was 
stoutly  protested  against  by  the  Duchess  of  Savoy,  grand-daughtcr 
of  Charles  I.  The  protest  did  not  trouble  the  king,  who  despatched 
the  act  to  the  electress-dowagcr  and  the  Garter  to  her  son,  by  the 
hands  of  the  Earl  of  Macclesfield. 

The  earl  was  a  fitting  bearer  of  so  costly  and  significant  a 
present.  He  had  been  attached  to  the  service  of  the  mother  of 
Sophia,  and  was  highly  esteemed  by  the  electress-dowager  herself. 
The  earl  had  no  especial  commission  beyond  that  which  enjomed 
him  to  deliver  the  act,  nor  was  he  dignified  by  any  olhcial  appel- 
lation. He  was  neither  ambassador,  legate,  plenipotentiary,  nor 
envoy.  He  had  with  him,  however,  a  most  splendid  suite ;  which 
wa3  in  some  respects  strangely  constituted,  for  among  its  membere 
was  the  famous,  or  infamous,  Janius  Junius  Toland,  whose  book 
in  support  of  rationality  as  applied  to  religion,  and  in  denial  that 
there  was  any  mystery  whatever  in  the  Christian  dispensation,  had 
been  publicly  burnt  by  the  hangman,  in  Ireland. 

The  welcome  of  this  body  of  gentlemen  was  a  right  royal  one. 
It  may  be  said  that  the  electoral  family  had  neither  cared  for  the 
dignity  now  rendered  probable  for  them,  nor  in  any  way  toiled  or 
inU-igued  to  bring  it  within  their  gi'a-^p ;  but  it  is  ceitain  that  their 
joy  was  great  when  the  Eari  of  Macclesfield  appeared  on  the  fron- 
tier of  the  electorate  with  the  act  in  one  hand  and  the  gaiter  in  the 
other.  He  and  his  suite  were  met  there  with  a  welcome  of  extra- 
ordinary magnificence,  betokening  ample  appreciation  of  the  double 
gift  he  brought  with  him.  He  himself  seemed  elevated  by  his  mis- 
sion, for  he  was  in  his  general  deportment  little  distinguished  by 
courtly  manners  or  by  ceremonious  bearing ;  but  it  was  observed 
that,  on  this  occasion,  nothing  could  have  been  more  becoming  than 
the  way  in  which  he  accjuitted  himself  of  an  ofiice  which  brought  a 
whole  family  within  view  of  succession  to  a  royal  and  powerful 

throne. 

On  reaching  the  confines  of  the  electomte,  the  members  of  the 
deputation  from  England  were  received  by  personages  of  the  high- 
est official  rank,  who  not  only  escorted  them  to  the  capital,  but 


SOPHIA  DOKOTHEA. 


119 


treated  them  on  the  way  with  a  liberality  so  profuse  as  to  be  the 
wonder  of  all  beholders.  They  were  not  allowed  to  disburse  a 
farthing  from  their  own  purses  ;  all  they  thought  fit  to  order  was 
paid  for  by  the  electoral  government,  by  whose  orders  they  were 
lodged  in  the  most  commodious  palace  in  Hanover,  where  as  much 
homage  was  paid  them  as  if  each  man  had  been  a  Kaiser  in  his 
own  person.  The  Hanoverian  gi-atitude  went  so  far,  that  not  only 
were  the  ambassador  and  suite  treated  as  favored  guests,  and  that 
not  alone  of  the  princess  but  of  the  people,— the  latter  being  com- 
manded to  refrain  from  taking  payment  from  any  of  them,  for  any 
article  of  refreshment  they  required,— but  for  many  days  all  Eng- 
lish travellei-s  visiting  the  city  were  made  equally  free  of  its  cara- 
vansaries and  were  permitted  to  enjoy  all  that  the  inns  could  aftbrd, 
without  being  required  to  pay  for  the  enjoyment. 

The  delicate  treatment  of  the  electoral  government  extended 
even  to  the  servants  of  the  earl  and  his  suite.     It  was  thought  that 
to  require  them  to  dine  upon  the  fragments  of  their  master's  ban- 
quets would  be  derogatory  to  the  splendor  of  the  hospitality  of  the 
House  of  Hanover,  and  an  insult  to  the  domestics  who  followed  m 
the  train  of  the  eari.     The  government  accordingly  disbursed  hali- 
a-crown  a  day  to  the  liveried  followers,  and  considered  such  a 
"  composition  "  as  glorious  to  the  reputation  of  the  electoral  house. 
The  menials  were  even  emancipated  from  service  during  the  sojourn 
of  the  deputation  in  Hanover,  and  the  elector's  numerous  servants 
waited  upon  the  English  visitors,  zealously  throughout  the  day,  but 
with  most  splendor  in  the  morning,  when  they  were  to  be  seen 
hurrying  to  the  bed-rooms  of  the  different  members  of  the  suite, 
bearing^with  them  silver  coffee  and  tea  pots,  and  other  requisites 
for  brc^akflist,  which  meal  appears  to  have  been  lazily  indulged  in, 
as  if  the  legation  had  been  habitually  wont  to  "  make  a  night  of 
it,"— in  bed.     And  there  was  a  good  deal  of  hard  drinking  on 
these  occasions,  but  all  at  the  expense  of  the  husband  of  Sophia 
Dorothea,  who,  in  her  castle  of  Ahlden,  was  not  e^  en  aware  of  that 
increase  of  honor  which  had  flillen  upon  her  consort,  and  in  which 
she  had  a  right  to  share. 

For  those  who  were,  the  next  day,  ill  or  indolent,  there  were 
the  ponderous  state   coaches  to  carry  them  whithersoever  they 


120 


LIVES  OF  IHE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLANP. 


would  go.     The  most  gorgeous  of  the  fetes  given  on  this  occasion, 
was  on  the  evening  of  the  day  on  which  the  Act  was  solemnly  pre- 
sented to  the  electress-dowager.     Hanover,  famous  as  it  was  for  its 
balls,  had  never  seen  so  glorious  a  Ten)sichorean  festival  as  marked 
this  particular  night.     At  the  balls  in  the  old  elector's  time,  Sophia 
Dorothea  used  to  shine,  first  in  beauty  and  in  grace,  but  now  her 
place  was  iU  supplied  by  the  not  fair  and  quite   gmceless  Made- 
moiselle von  Schulemberg.     The  supper  that  followed  was  Olym- 
pian in  its  profusion,  wit,  and  magniticence.     This  was  at  a  time 
when  to  be  sober  was  to  be  respectable,  but  when  to  be  drunk  wjis 
not   to    be    ungentlemanly.     Consequently  we  find  Toland,   who 
wrote  an  account  of  the  achievements  of  the  day,  congratulating 
himself  and  readers  by  stating  that,  although  it  was  to  be  expected 
that  in  so  large  and  so  jovial  a  party  there  would  be  some  who 
would  be  even  more  ecstatic  than  the  occasion  iuid  the  company 
warranted,  yet  that,  in  truth,  the  number  of  those  who  were  guilty 
of  excess  was  but  small.     Even  Lord  Mohun  kept  himself  sober, 
and  to  the  end  was  able  to  converse  as  clearly  and  intelligibly  as 
Lord  Saye  and  Sele,  and  his  friend  "  my  Lord  Tunbridge."     AVith 
what  degree  of  lucidity  these  noble  gentlemen  talked,  we  are  not 
told,  so  tliat  we  can  hardly  judge  of  the  mejisure  of  Lord  ^Mohun's 
sobriety.     That  he  was  not  very  drunk,  seems  to  Toland  a  thing 
to  be  thankful  for,  seeing  that  it  had  long  been  his  custom  to  be  so, 
until  of  late,  when  he  had  delighted  the  prudent  by  forswearing 
sack  and  living  cleanly. 

This  day  of  presentation  of  the  Act,  and  of  the  festival  in  honor 
thereof,  was  one  of  the  greatest  days  which  Hanover  had  ever 
seen.  Every  one  wore  a  face  of  joy,  at  least  so  we  collect  from 
Toland's  description  of  wliat  he  saw,  and  from  which  description 
we  cull  a  few  paragrai)hs  by  way  of  picture  of  scene  and  players. 
Speaking  of  the  mother-in-law  of  Sophia  Dorothea,  he  says : — 
**  Tlie  electress  is  three-and-seventy  years  old,  which  she  bears  so 
wonderfully  well,  that  had  I  not  many  vouchers,  I  should  scarce 
dare  venture  to  relate  it.  She  has  ever  enjoyed  extraordinary 
healtli,  which  keeps  her  still  very  vigorous,  of  a  cheeHul  counte- 
nance, and  a  merry  disposition.  She  steps  as  firm  and  erect  as 
any  young  lady,  has  not  one  wrinkle  in  her  face,  which  is  still  very 


SOPHIA  DOROTHEA. 


121 


agreeable,  nor  one  tooth  out  of  her  head,  and  reads  without  spec- 
tacles, as  I  have  oflen  seen  her  do,  letters  of  a  small  character,  in 
the  dusk  of  the  evening.  She  is  as  great  a  writer  as  our  late 
queen  (Mar}%)  and  you  cannot  turn  yourself  in  the  palace,  without 
meeting  some  monument  of  her  industry,  all  the  chairs  of  the  pre- 
sence-chamber being  wrouglit  with  her  own  hands.  The  orna- 
ments of  the  altar  in  the  electoral  chapel  are  all  of  her  work.  She 
bestowed  the  same  favor  on  the  Protestant  abbey,  or  college,  of 
Lockurn,  with  a  thousand  other  instances,  fitter  for  your  lady  to 
know  than  for  yourself.  She  is  the  most  constant  and  greatest 
walker  I  ever  knew,  never  missing  a  day,  if  it  proves  fair,  for  one 
or  two  hours,  and  often  more,  in  the  fine  garden  at  Herrenhausen. 
She  perfectly  tires  all  those  of  her  court  that  attend  her  in  that 
exercise,  but  such  as  have  the  honor  to  be  entertained  by  her  in 
discourse.  She  has  been  long  admired  by  all  the  learned  world 
as  a  woman  of  incomparable  knowledge  in  divinity,  philosophy, 
history,  and  the  subjects  of  all  sorts  of  books,  of  which  she  has  read 
a  prodigious  quantity.  She  speaks  five  languages  so  well,  that,  by 
her  accent,  it  might  be  a  dispute  which  of  them  was  her  first. 
They  are  Low  Dutch,  German,  French,  Italian,  and  English,  which 
last  she  speaks  iis  truly  and  easily  as  any  native  ;  which  to  me  is 
a  matter  of  amazement,  whatever  advantages  she  might  have  in 
her  youth  by  the  convei-sation  of  her  mother  ;  for  though  the  late 
king's  (William's)  mother  was  likewise  an  P^nglishwoman,  of  the 
same  royal  family,  though  he  had  been  more  than  once  in  England 
before  the  Revolution  ;  though  he  was  married  there,  and  his  court 
continually  full  of  many  of  that  nation,  yet  he  could  never  conquer 
his  foreign  accent.  But,  indeed,  the  electress  is  so  entirely  Eng- 
lish in  her  person,  in  her  behavior,  in  her  humor,  and  in  all  her 
inclinations,  that  naturally  she  could  not  miss  of  anything  that  pe- 
culiarly belongs  to  our  land.  She  was  ever  glad  to  see  English- 
men, long  before  the  Act  of  Succession.  She  professes  to  admire 
our  form  of  government,  and  understands  it  mighty  well,  yet  she 
asks  so  many  questions  about  families,  customs,  laws,  and  the  like, 
as  suflficiently  demonstrate  her  profound  wisdom  and  experience. 
She  has  a  deep  veneration  for  the  Church  of  England,  without 
losing  affection  or  charity  for  any  other  sort  of  Protestants,  and 

6 


122      LIVES  OF  THB  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 

appears  charmed  with  the  moderate  temper  of  our  present  bishops 
and  other  of  our  learned  clergy,  especially  for  the.r  approbat.on  of 
the  liberty  allowed  by  law  to  Protestant  Dissenters.     She  is  adored 
for  her  goodness  .among  the  inhabitants  of  the  country,  and  gams 
the  hearts  of  allstrangers  by  her  unparalleled  affabd.ty.     .No  dis- 
tinction is  ever  made  in  her  court  concerning  the  parties  mto  which 
Englishmen  are  divided,  and  whereof  they  carry  the  effects  and 
impressions  with  them  whithersoever  they  go,  which  makes  others 
sometimes  uneasy,  as  well  as  themselves.     There  it  is  enough  that 
you  are  an  Englishman,  nor  can  you  ever  discover  by  your  treat- 
ment which  are  better  liked,  the  Whigs  or  the  Tones.     These  are 
the  instructions  given  to  all  the  servants,  and  they  take  care  'o  ex- 
ecute them  with  the  utmost  exactness.     I  was  the  first  who  had 
the  honor  of  kneeling  and  kissing  her  hand  on  account  of  the  Act 
of  Succession ;  and  she  said,  among  other  discourse,  that  she  was 
afraid  the  nation  had  already  reiK-nted  their  choice  of  an  old  wo- 
man, but  that  she  hoped  none  of  her  posterity  would  give  her  any 
reasons  to  grow  weary  of  their  dominion.     I  answered,  that  the 
English  had  too  well  considered  what  they  did,  to  change  the.r 
minds  so  soon,  and  they  still  remembered  they  were  never  so 
happy  as  when  they  were  last  under  a  woman's  government.     Smce 
that  time,  sir,"  adds  the  courtly  but  unorthodox  Toland  to  the 
"Minister  of  State  in  Holland,"  to  whom  his  letter  is  addressed, 
"  we  have  a  further  confirmation  of  this  truth  by  the  glorious  ad- 
ministration of  Queen  Anne." 

Such  is  a  picture,  rather  '■loaded,'  as  an  artist  might  say,  of  the 
mother-in-law  of  the  prisoner  of  Ahlden.  The  record  would  be 
imperfect  if  it  were  not  accompanied  by  another  "  counterfeit  pre- 
sentment—" that  of  her  son.  ^    ,     ^  i,,      , 

At  the  period  when  Toland  accompanied  the  Earl  of  Maccles- 
field to  Hanover,  with  the  Act  of  Succession,  the  most  important 
personage  at  that  court,  next  to  the  electn^ss,  the  Begina  des,ffnata 
Britannianim.  was  her  son.  Prince  George  Louis,  the  husband  of 
Sophia  Dorothea.  Toland  describes  him  as  '•  a  proper,  middle- 
sized,  well-proportioned  man,  of  a  genteel  address,  and  good 
appearance;"  but  he  add.,  that  his  highness  "is  reserved,  and 
therefore   speaks    little,   but   judiciously."      George   Uul.,   like 


SOPHIA    DOROTHEA. 


123 


"Monseigneur"  at  Versailles,  cared  for  nothing  but  hunting.  "He 
is  not  to  be  exceeded,"  says  Toland,  "in  his  zeal  against  the 
intended  universal  monarchy  of  France,  and  so  is  most  hearty  for 
the  common  cause  of  Europe,"  for  the  very  good  reason,  that 
therein  "his  own  is  so  necessarily  involved."  Toland,  in  the 
humor  to  praise  ever}nhing,  adds,  that  George  Louis  understood 
the  constitution  of  England  better  than  any  "foreigner"  he  had 
ever  met  with ;  .a  very  safe  remark,  for  our  constitution  was  ill 
understood  abroad;  and  even  had  the  theoretical  knowledge  of 
George  Louis  been  ever  so  correct,  his  practice  with  our  constitu- 
tion betrayed  such  ignorance  that  Toland's  assertion  may  be  taken 
only  quanttun  vcduit,  for  what  it  is  worth.  "  Though,"  says  the 
writer  just  named,  "  though  he  be  well  versed  in  the  art  of  war, 
and  of  invincible  courage,  having  often  exposed  his  person  to  great 
dangers  in  Hungary,  in  the  Morea,  on  the  Rhine,  and  in  Flanders, 
yet  he  is  naturally  of  peaceable  inclination ;  which  mixture  of  qual- 
ities is  agreed,  by  the  experience  of  all  ages,  to  make  the  best  and 
mo^t  glorious  princes.  He  is  a  perfect  man  of  business,  exactly 
regular  in  the  economy  of  his  revenues,"  (which  he  never  was  of 
those  of  England,  seeing  that  he  outran  his  liberal  allowance,  and 
coolly  asked  the  parliament  to  pay  his  debts,)  "  reads  all  dispatches 
himself  at  first  liand,  writes  most  of  his  own  letters,  and  spends  a 
considerable  part  of  his  time  about  such  occupations,  in  his  closet, 
and  with  his  ministers." 

Toland,  however,  was  afraid  he  had  not  suflSciently  gilded  over 
that  sullen  reserve  in  the  character  of  the  husband  of  Sophia  Doro- 
thea, which  alone  was  sufficient  to  render  him  unpopular.  "I 
hope,"  he  says,  " that  none  of  our  countrjmen  will  be  so  injudi- 
cious as  to  think  his  reservedness  the  effect  of  sullenness  or  pride ; 
nor  mistake  that  for  state,  which  really  proceeds  from  modesty, 
caution  and  deliberation ;  for  he  is  very  affable  to  such  as  accost 
him,  and  expects  that  others  should  speak  to  him  first,  which  is  the 
best  information  I  could  have  from  all  about  him,  and  I  partly 
know  to  be  true  by  experience." 

Then,  we  have  a  trait  in  the  electoral  character  which  was  not 
to  be  found  subsequently  in  the  king ;  "  for,"  says  the  hanger-on 
to  Lord  Macclesfield's  ambassadorial  cloak,  "  as  to  what  I  said  of 


124 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


his  frugalit J  in  laying  out  the  public  money,  I  need  not  give  a 
more  particular  proof  than  that  all  the  expenses  of  his  court,  as  to 
eating,  drinking,  tire,  candles,  and  the  like,  are  duly  paid  every 
Saturday  night ;  the  othcers  of  his  army  receive  their  pay  every 
month,  so  likewise  his  envoys  in  every  part  of  Europe  ;  and  all  the 
otiicers  of  his  household,  with  the  rest  that  are  on  the  civil  list,  are 
cleared  off  every  half  year."  We  are  then  assured  that  his  admin- 
istration was  equable,  mild,  and  prudent, — a  triple  assertion,  which 
his  own  life,  and  that  of  his  liardly-used  wife,  flatly  denied.  Toland, 
however,  will  have  it,  in  his  "  lively  sense  of  favors  to  come,"  that 
there  never  existed  a  prince  who  was-  so  ardently  beloved  by  his 
subjects.  On  this  point  the  "  Petit  Roi  d' Yvetot"  of  Beranger 
sinks  into  comparative  un|x>pularity.  Hanover  itself  is  said  to  be 
without  division  or  faction,  and  all  Hanoverians  as  beinjj  in  a  con- 
dit ion  of  ecstasy  at  the  Solomon-like  rectitude  and  jurisdiction  of 
his  very  serene  highness.  But  it  must  be  remembered,  that  all 
this  is  said  by  a  man  who  never  condescended  to  remember  that 
George  Louis  had  a  wife.  He  is  entirely  oblivious  of  the  captive 
consort  of  the  elector,  but  he  can  aflfbrd  to  express  admiration  for 
the  elector's  mistresses.  He  describes  Madame  Kielmansegge,  the 
daughter  of  the  Countess  von  Platen,  and  who  occupied  near  the 
prince  a  station  similar  to  that  which  her  mother  held  near  the 
prince's  father,  as  a  woman  of  sense  and  wit ;  and  of  Mademoiselle 
Schulemberg.  he  says  that  she  is  esjiecially  worthy  of  the  rank  she 
enjoys,  and  that  "  in  the  opinion  of  others,  as  well  as  mine,  she  is 
a  lady  of  extraordinary  merit!" — such  merit  as  distinguished  the 
niece  of  the  governor  of  the  Philippine  Islands,  who,  under  the 
ma^k  of  attachment,  robbed  Gil  Bhas  of  his  diamond  rin«^. 

c 

There  is  something  suggestive  in  much  of  what  is  here  set  down. 
A  lunatic  proposed  that  Sophia  of  Hanover  should  succeed  to  the 
throne  of  England ;  and  the  hand  of  that  lady,  who  denied  the 
apostolic  succession  of  bishops,  and  sneered  at  the  episcopacv,  was 
first  kissed,  when  the  Act  of  Succession  was  presented  to  her,  by 
an  inlidel,  the  son  of  a  Romish  priest,  whose  book  against  the  mys- 
teries of  Christianity  had  been  burned  in  the  streets  of  Dublin  by 
the  hands  of  the  hangman.  This  is  historicallv,  and  not  satiricallv. 
set  down.     Some  at  the  time,  thought  it  ominous  of  evil  consc- 


SOPHIA   DOROTHEA. 


125 


quences,  but  we  who  live  to  see  the  consequences,  may  learn  there- 
from to  disregard  omens.  But  whatever  may  be  said  upon  this 
point,  there  only  remains  to  be  added,  that  the  legation  left  Han- 
over, loaded  with  presents.  The  earl  received  a  portrait  of  the 
elect  ress,  with  an  electoral  crown  in  diamonds,  by  way  of  mounting 
to  the  frame.  George  Louis  bestowed  upon  him  a  gold  basm  and 
ewer, — no  ill  present  to  the  native  of  a  country  whose  people  were 
distinguished,  to  a  later  period  than  this,  as  being  the  only  civilized 
people  who  sat  down  to  meat  without  previous  ablution,  even  of 
the  hands.  Gold  medals  and  snuff-boxes  were  showered  amon<T 
the  other  members.  The  chaplain.  Dr.  Sandys,  was  especially 
honored  by  rich  gifts  in  medals  and  books.  He  was  the  first  who 
ever  read  the  service  of  our  Church  m  the  presence  of  the  elec- 
tress.  She  joined  in  it  with  apparent  fervor,  and  admired  it  gen- 
erally ;  but  when  a  hint  was  conveyed  to  her  that  it  might  be  well 
were  she  to  introduce  it  in  place  of  the  Calvinistic  form  used  in 
her  chapel,  as  of  the  Lutheran  in  that  of  the  elector,  she  shook  her 
head,  with  a  smile ;  said  that  there  was  no  difference  between  the 
three  forms,  in  essentials,  and  that  episcopacy  was  merely  the 
established  form  in  England.  She  thought  for  the  present  she 
would  **  let  well  alone."     And  it  was  done  accordingly ! 

In  the  year  1705,  the  English  Parliament  passed  an  Act  for 
naturalizing  the  Princess  Sophia,  Electress  and  Duchess-Dowager 
of  Hanover,  and  the  issue  of  her  body.  This  was  an  Act,  there- 
fore, which  made  an  Englishman  of  George  Louis.  It  was  not, 
however,  in  honor  of  such  an  event  that  a  short  season  of  freedom 
was  granted  to  the  prisoner  of  Ahlden. 

In  the  year  last  mentioned,  the  war  was  raging  which  France 
was  earning  on  for  the  purpose  of  extending  her  Hmits  and  influ- 
ence, and  which  England  and  her  aUies  had  entered  into  in  order 
to  resist  such  aggression,  and  restore  that  terribly  oscillating  mat- 
ter— the  balance  of  European  power.  The  Duke  of  Marlborough 
had,  at  the  prayer  of  the  Dutch  States,  left  the  banks  of  the  Moselle, 
in  order  to  help  Holland,  menaced  on  the  side  of  Liege  by  a  strong 
French  force.  Our  great  duke  left  General  D'Aubach  at  Treves 
to  secure  the  magazines  which  the  English  and  Dutch  had  laid  up 
there ;  but  upoi^  the   approach  of  JIarshal  Villars,   D'Aubach 


126 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


destroyed  the  magazines  and  abandoned  Treves,  of  which  the 
French  immediately  took  possession.  This  put  an  end  to  all  the 
schemes  which  had  been  laid  for  attacking  France  on  the  side  of 
the  Moselle,  where  her  frontiers  were  but  weak,  and  carried  her 
confederates  back  to  Flanders,  where,  as  the  old-fashioned  chron- 
icler, Salmon,  remarks,  "they  yearly  threw  away  thousands  of 
brave  fellows  against  stone  walls."  Thereupon,  Hanover  became 
menaced.     On  this,  Horace  Walpole  has  something  in  point : 

"  As  the  genuine  wife  was  always  detained  in  her  husband's 
power,  he  seems  not  to  have  wholly  dissolved  their  union ;  for,  on 
the  approach  of  the  French  army  towards  Hanover,  during  Queen 
Anne's  reign,  the  Duchess  of  Halle  (Ahlden)  was  sent  home  to 
her  father  and  mother,  who  doted  on  their  only  child,  and  did 
retain  her  for  a  whole  year,  and  did  implore,  though  in  vain,  that 
she  might  continue  to  reside  with  them." 

Of  the  incidents  of  this  second  separation  nothing  is  known,  but 
conjecture  may  well  supply  all  its  grief  and  pain.  It  would  seem, 
however,  as  if  some  of  the  restrictions  were  taken  off  from  the 
rules  by  which  the  captive  was  held.  There  was  no  prohibition 
of  intercourse  with  the  parents  ;  for  the  Duke  of  Zell  had  resolved 
on  proceeding  to  visit  his  daughter,  but  only  deferred  his  visit 
until  the  conclusion  of  a  grand  hunt,  in  which  he  was  anxious  to 
take  part.  He  went ;  and  between  fatigue,  exposure  to  inclement 
weather,  and  neglect  on  his  return,  he  became  seriously  ill,  rapidly 
grew  worse,  died  on  the  28th  of  August,  1705,  and  by  his  death 
gave  the  domains  of  a  dukedom  to  Hanover,  and  deprived  his 
daughter  of  a  newly-acquired  friend. 

The  death  of  the  Duke  of  Zell,  if  it  caused  profit  to  Hanover, 
was  also  followed  by  honor  to  Bernstorf.  The  services  of  that 
official  were  so  agreeable  to  George  Louis  that  he  appointed  him 
to  the  ix)st  of  prime  minister  of  Hanover,  and  at  the  same  time 
made  him  a  count.  The  death  of  the  father  of  Sophia  Dorothea 
was,  however,  followed  by  consequences  moi-e  fatal  than  those  just 
named.  The  severity  of  the  imprisonment  of  the  princess  was 
much  aggravated  ;  and  though  she  was  permitted  to  have  an 
occasional  interview  with  her  mother,  all  application  to  be  allowed 
to  see  her  two  children  was  stenily  refused, — agd  this  refusal,  as 


SOPHIA  DOROTHEA. 


127 


the  poor  prisoner  used  to  remark,  was  the  bitterest  portion  of  her 
misery. 

It  was  of  her  son  that  George  Louis  used  to  say,  in  later  years, 
"  II  est  fougeux,  mais  il  a  du  coeur," — hot-headed  but  not  heartless. 
George  Augustus  manifested  this  disposition  very  early  in  life. 
He  was  on  one  occasion  hunting  in  the  neighborhood  of  Luisberg, 
not  many  miles  from  the  scene  of  his  mother's  imprisonment,  when 
he  made  a  sudden  resolution  to  visit  her,  regardless  of  the  strict 
prohibition  against  such  a  course,  laid  on  him  by  his  fatherand  the 
Hanoverian  government.  Laying  spurs  to  his  horse,  he  galloped 
at  full  speed  from  the  field,  and  in  the  direction  of  Ahlden.  His 
astonished  suite,  seeing  the  direction  which  he  was  following  at  so 
furious  a  rate,  immediately  suspected  his  design,  and  became 
legally  determined  to  frustrate  it.  They  left  pursuing  the  stag, 
and  took  to  chasing  the  prince.  The  heir-apparent  led  them  far 
away  over  field  and  furrow,  to  the  great  detriment  of  the  wind  and 
persons  of  his  pursuers  ;  and  he  would  have  distanced  the  whole 
body  of  flying  huntsmen,  but  that  his  steed  was  less  fleet  than 
those  of  two  officers  of  the  electoral  household  who  kept  close  to 
the  fugitive,  and  at  last  came  up  with  him  on  the  skirts  of  a  wood 
adjacent  to  Ahlden.  With  mingled  courtesy  and  firmness  they 
represented  to  him  that  he  could  not  be  permitted  to  go  farther  in 
a  direction  which  was  forbidden,  as  by  so  doing  he  would  not  only 
be  treating  the  paternal  orders  with  contempt,  but  would  be 
making  them  accomplices  in  his  crime  of  disobedience.  George 
Augustus,  vexed  and  chafed,  argued  the  matter  with  them, 
appealed  to  their  affections  and  feelings,  and  endeavored  to  con- 
vince them  both  as  men  and  ministers,  as  human  beings  and  as 
mere  official  red-tapists,  that  he  was  authorized  to  continue  his 
route  to  Ahlden,  by  every  law,  earthly  or  divine. 

The  red-tapists,  however,  acknowledged  no  law  under  such  cir- 
cumstances, but  that  of  their  electoral  lord  and  master,  and  that 
law  they  would  not  permit  to  be  broken.  The  prince  would  have 
made  a  note  of  their  protest,  to  shield  them  subsequently  from 
their  master's  displeasure,  but  they  were  too  resolute  to  be  content 
with  merely  making  a  protest  against  a  course  which  it  was  in 
their  power  to  prevent,  and,  accordingly,  laying  hold  of  the  bridle 


128 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


of  the  prince's  steed,  thej  turned  its  head  homewards,  and  rode 
away  with  George  Augustus  in  a  state  of  full  discontent  and  strict 
arrest. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THN    SUCCESSION DEATH    OF   THE    ELECTRESS. 

There  are  some  of  the  comedies  of  Terence,  in  which  the 
heroines— the  most  important  personages  in  the  play— are  heard 
of  but  never  seen;  much  spoken  about,  but  never  speaking. 
What  a  coil  there  is  in  the  Phormio,  for  instance,  touching 
Phanium  the  wife  of  Antipho,  and  Pamphila,  the  "  serva  a 
Phiedria  amata  I"— and  yet  how  little  is  really  known  about  either. 
Poor  Sophia  Dorothea  in  the  drama  of  her  life  at  Ahlden,  is  some- 
thing  like  the  two  characters  in  the  Athenian  drama  of  the  swarthy 
African;  with  this  ditference,  however,  that  she  is  not  as  they  are, 
the  object  of  a  human  love.  She  is  off  the  stage,  and  little  indeed 
is  known  of  her,  save  that  she  is  immured  in  a  dull  castle,  or 
taking  exercise  within  the  dull  limits  of  a  dull  countr}^  Beyond 
this,  there  is  nothing  narrated  of  her  during  the  first  ten  years  of 
her  captivity.  Something  startling  and  dramatic  had  like  to  have 
happened  when  George  Augustus  suddenly  resolved  to  visit  his 
mother,  but  was  obstructed  in  his  resolution.  His  sire,  meditating 
on  the  fact,  determined  to  provide  him  with  a  wife. 

The  elector,  then  meditating,  as  I  have  said,  on  tliis  sudden 
development  of  the  domestic  affections  of  his  son,  resolved  to  aid 
such  development,  not  by  giving  him  access  to  his  mother,  but  by 
bestowing  on  him  the  hand  of  a  consort.  Of  this  lady  I  shaU  have 
to  speak  more  at  length  hereafter,  for  she  became  Queen  Consort 
of  England,  at  the  accession  of  her  husband,  George  II.  In  the 
mean  time  it  will  be  sufficient  to  record  here  whatsis  said  of  her 
by  Burnet : — 

"  While  the  house  of  Austria  was  struggling  with  great  diffi- 
culties, two  pieces  of  pomp  and  magnificence  consumed  a  great 
part  of  their  treasure ;   an  embassy  was  sent   from   Lisbon   to 


SOPHIA  DOROTHEA. 


129 


demand  the  emperor's  sister  for  that  king ;  which  was  done  with 
an  unusual  and  extravagant  expense ;  a  wife  was  to  be  sought  for 
King  Charles  (of  Spain)  among  the  Protestant  courts,  for  there 
was  not  a  suitable  match  in  the  Popish  courts.  He  had  seen  the 
Princess  of  Anspach,  and  was  much  taken  with  her;  so  that 
great  applications  were  made  to  persuade  her  to  change  her  reli- 
gion,^  but  she  could  not  be  prevailed  on  to  buy  a  crown  at  so  dear 
a  rate ;  and  soon  after  she  was  married  to  the  prince  electoral  of 
Brunswick,  which  gave  a  glorious  character  of  her  to  this  nation  ; 
and  her  pious  firmness  is  likely  to  be  rewarded  even  in  this  life, 
with  a  much  better  crown  than  that  which  she  rejected.  The 
princess  of  Wolfenbultel  was  not  so  firm,  so  that  she  was  brought 
to  Vienna,  and  some  time  after  was  married,  by  proxy,  to  King 
Charles,  and  was  sent  to  Italy,  on  her  way  to  Spain.  The 
solemnity  with  which  these  affairs  were  managed  in  all  this  distress 
of  their  affairs,  consumed  a  vast  deal  of  treasure  ;  for  such  was 
the  pride  of  those  courts  on  such  occasions,  that  rather  than  fail  in 
a  point  of  splendor,  they  would  let  their  most  important  affairs  go 
to  wrack.  That  princess  was  landed  at  Barcelona,  and  the  Queen 
of  Portugal  the  same  year  came  to  Holland,  to  be  carried  to 
Lisbon  by  a  squadron  of  the  EngHsh  fleet." 

Caroline  of  Anspach  was  a  very  accomplished  young  lady,  and 
much  of  such  accomplishments  was  owing  to  the  careful  education 
which  she  received  at  the  hands  of  the  best-loved  child  of  the 
electress,  Sophia  Charlotte,  electress  of  Brandenburg,  and  the 
first,  but  short-lived.  Queen  of  Prussia.  If  the  instructress  was 
able,  the  pupil  was  apt.  She  was  quick,  inquiring,  intelligent,  and 
studious.  Her  application  was  great,  her  perseverance  unvaried, 
and  her  memory  excellent.  She  learned  quickly,  and  retained 
largely,  seldom  forgetting  anything  worth  remembrance ;  and  was 
an  equally  good  judge  of  books  and  individuals.  Her  perception 
of  character  has,  perhaps,  never  been  surpassed.  She  had  no 
inclination  for  trivial  subjects,  nor  affection  for  trivial  people.  She 
had  a  heart  and  mind  only  for  philosophers  and  philosophy;  but 
she  was  not  the  less  a  lively  girl,  or  the  more  a  pedant,  on  that 
account.  She  delighted  in  lively  conversation,  and  could  admirably 
lead  or  direct  it.     Her  knowledge  of  languages  was  equal  to  that 

0* 


130 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


of  Sophia  of  Hanover,  of  whom  she  was  also  the  equal  in  wit  and 
m  repartee.  But  therewith  she  was  more  tender,  more  gentle, 
more  generous.  When  she  became  the  wife  of  George  Augustus] 
It  was  again  like  uniting  Iphigenia  to  Cymon.  But  the  Cymon  of 
the  Iphigenia  of  Anspach  could  not  appreciate  the  treasure  con- 
fided to  him,  and  though  he  could  never  despise  his  wife,  it  can  be 
hardly  said  that  he  ever  truly  loved  her. 

The  marriage  of  George  Augustus,  Electoral  Prince  of  Bruns- 
wick-Hanover, with  Cai-oline,  daughter  of  John   Frederick  Mar- 
grave,  of  Anspach,  was  solemnized  in  the  year   1705.     It  was 
rather  an  eventful  year  for  England.     It  was  that  in  which  Marl- 
borough forced  the  French  lines  at  Tirlemont,  a  feat  for  which  the 
nation  rendered  public  thanksgiving  to  God.     It  was  the  year  in 
which  England  poured  out  some  of  her  best  blood,  in  order  to 
secure  the  tlirone  of  Spain  to  a  prince  of  the  house  of  Austria.— 
a  service  for  which  Austria  repaid  her  only  with  ingratitude.  '  It 
was  the  year  in  which  the  two  Houses  of  Convocation  were  vul- 
gai-ly  brawling  at  each  other  concerning  the  right  of  adjournment- 
a  dispute,  which  her  Majesty  Queen  Anne  settled  by  proroguincr 
the  contentious  assembly,  and  by  addressing  a  letter  to  the  Arch° 
bishop  of  Canterbury,  declaratory  of  her  resolution  to  maintain  her 
supremacy,  and  the  subordination  of  presbyters  to  bishops.     It  was 
the  year  in  which  died  Queen  Catherine,  the  patient  wife  and  very 
resigned  widow  of  the  graceless   Charles  II. ;  and  finallv,  it  wj^ 
the  year  in  which  passed  the  act  for  "  naturalizing  the  Princess 
Sophia,  electress  and  duchess-dowager  of  Hanover,  and  the  i<<ue 
of  her  body." 

The  wife  of  George  Augustus  was  of  the  same  age  as  her  bus- 
band.  She  had  had  the  misfortune  to  lose  her  father  when  <he 
was  yet  extremely  young,  and  had  been,  as  I  have  before  remarked 
brought  up  at  the  Court  of  Berlin  mider  the  guardianship,  and  nj 
msufficient  one,  of  Sophia  Charlotte,  the  consort  of  Frederick  of 
Prussia.  She  gave  promise  in  her  childhood  of  being  a  clever 
woman,  and  that  promise,  at  least,  was  not  ''  made  to  the  ear  to  be 
broken  to  the  hope."  How  this  promise  was  fultUled,  we  shall  be 
able  to  see  in  a  future  page. 

The  sister  of  George  Augustus,  the  only  daughter  of  Sophia 


SOPHIA  DOROTHEA. 


181 


Dorothea,  and  bearing  the  same  baptismal  names  as  her  mother, 
was  also  married  during  the  captivity  of  the  latter.  One  can 
hardly  conceive  of  wedding-bells  ringing  merrilj^  when  the  mother 
of  the  bride  is  a  stigmatized  woman,  pining  in  a  prison.  There 
were  three  remarkable  Englishmen  present  at  the  marriage  of  the 
daughter  of  Sophia  Dorothea  with  the  Prince  Royal  of  Prussia. 
Tliese  were  Lord  Halifax,  Sir  John  Vanbrugh,  and  Joseph  Addi- 
son. The  last-mentioned  had  yet  fresh  on  his  brow  the  laurels 
which  he  had  gained  by  writing  what  Warton  ill-naturedly  called, 
his  rhyming  gazette,  "  The  Campaign,"  in  a  garret  in  the  Hay- 
market,  and  in  celebration  of  the  victory  at  Blenheim.  Queen 
Anne,  who  had  restored  Halifax  to  a  favor  from  which  he  had 
fallen,  entrusted  him  to  carry  the  bill  for  the  naturalization  of  the 
electoral  family,  and  for  the  better  security  of  the  Protestant  line 
of  succession, — and  also  the  order  of  the  garter  for  the  electoral 
prince.  On  this  mission,  Addison  was  the  united  companion  of  the 
patron  whom  he  so  choicely  flattered.  Vanbrugh  was  present  in 
his  official  character  of  Clarencieux  King  at  Arms,  and  performed 
the  ceremony  of  investiture.  The  little  court  of  Hanover  was  joy- 
fully splendid  on  this  doubly  festive  occasion.  The  nuptials  were 
celebrated  with  more  accompanying  gladness  than  ever  followed 
them.  "When  Addison,  some  years  subsequently,  memorialized 
George  I.,  the  petition  stated  "  that  my  Lord  Halifax,  upon  going 
to  Hanover,  desired  him  to  accompany  him  thither,  at  which  time, 
though  he  had  not  the  title  of  his  secretar}-,  he  officiated  as  such, 
without  any  other  reward  than  the  satisfaction  of  showing  his  zeal 
for  that  illustrious  family." 

The  nuptials  of  the  young  princess  with  Frederick  William, 
Crown  Prince  of  Prussia,  lacked  neither  mirth  nor  ceremony  for 
the  circumstance  just  alluded  to.  The  pomp  was  something  un- 
common in  its  way,  and  the  bride  must  have  been  wearied  of  being 
married  long  before  the  stupendous  solemnity  had  at  length  reached 
its  slowly-arrived-at  conclusion.  She  became  Queen  of  Prussia  in 
1712,  and  of  her  too  I  shall  have  to  speak  a  little  more  in  detail  in 
another  chapter.  Here  it  will  suffice  to  say  that  she  was  by  no 
means  indifferent  to  the  hard  fate  under  which  her  mother  groaned. 
She  was  the  better  enabled  to  sympathize  with  one  who  suffisred 


> 


132 


LIVES  OP  THE    QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


through  the  cruel  oppression  and  injustice  of  a  husband,  from  the 
fact  that  her  own  illustrious  spouse  was,  in  every  sense  of  the  word, 
her  "  lord  and  ma*ter,"  and  treated  her  with  as  little  consideration 
as  though  she  had  been  head-servant  of  his  exceedingly  untidy 
establishment,  rather  than  consort  and  queen,  to  whom,  in  common 
with  his  children,  he  administered  now  a  heavy  blow  and  even  a 
harsh  word,  and  whom  he  never  soothed  with  a  kind  expression 
but  when  he  had  some  evil  intention  in  giving  it  utterance. 

Honoi-s  now  fell  thick  upon  the  electoral  family,  but  Sophia 
Dorothea  was  not  permitted  to  have  any  share  therein.  In  1706, 
Queen  Anne  created  the  son  of  George  Louis,  the  old  suitor  for 
her  hand,— Baron  of  Tewkesbury,  Viscount  Northallerton,  P:arl 
of  Milford  Haven,  Marquis  and  Duke  of  Cambridge.  With  these 
honors  it  was  also  decreed  that  he  should  enjoy  full  precedence 
over  the  entire  peerage. 

There  was  a  strong  party  in  England  whose  most  emest  desire 
It  was  that  tlie  Electress  Sophia,  in  whose  person  the  succession  to 
the  crown  of  Great  Britamwas  settled,  should  repair  to  London,— 
not  to  permanently  reside  there,  but  in  order  that  durin-  a  brief 
visit  she  might  receive  the  homage  of  the  Pi-otestant  party.     She 
was,  however,  reluctant  to  move  from  her  books,  philosophy,  and 
cards,  until  she  could  be  summoned  as  Queen.     Failinrr  here  an 
attempt  was  made  to  bring  over  George  Louis,  who  wa"  nothin- 
loth  to  come ;  but  the  idea  of  a  visit  from  him,  was  to  poor  Queen 
Anne  the  uttermost  abomination.     Her  Majesty  had  some  grounds 
for  her  dislike  to  a  visit  from  her  old  wooer.     It  was  not  merely 
the  feehng  which  every  one  with  a  fortune  to  leave,  is  said  to  en- 
tertain  towards  an  heir-presumptive,  but  that  she  was  nervously  in 
terror  of  a  monster  popular  demonstration.     Such  a  demonstration 
was  publicly  talked  of,  and  the  enemies  of  the  house  of  Stuart  by 
way  of  instruction  and  warning  to  the  queen,  whose  Jacobite  bear- 
ings  towards  her  brother  were  matter  of  notoriety,  had  determined 
m  the  event  of  George  Louis  visiting  England,  to  give  him  an' 
escort  into  London  that  should  amount  to  the  very  significant  num- 
ber  of  some  forty  or  fifty  thousand  men. 

It  was  the  Duke  of  Devonshire  who  originally  moved  the  Hou.e 
of  Lords  for  leave  to  bring  in  a  bill  to  give  the  Electoral  Prince 


SOPHIA   DOROTHEA. 


133 


of  Hanover,  as  Duke  of  Cambridge,  the  precedence  of  peers. 
Leave  was  given,  but  some  of  the  adherents  of  the  House  of  Han- 
over did  not  think  that  the  bill  went  far  enough,  and  accordingly 
the  lord-treasurer,  previous  to  the  introduction  of  the  Duke  of  De- 
vonshire's measure,  "offered  a  bill,  giving  precedence  to  the  whole 
electoral  family,  as  the  children  and  nephews  of  the  crown ;"  and 
it  was  intimated  that  bills  relating  to  honors  and  precedence' ought 
to  come  from  the  crown.     -  The  Duke  of  Devonshire,"  adds  Bur- 
net,  "  would  make  no  dispute  on  this  head  ;  if  the  thing  passed,  he 
acquiesced  in  the  manner  of  passing  it,  only  he  thought  it  lay  with- 
in the  authority  of  the  House."     On  this  occasion  the  Court  seemed, 
even  to  an  affectation,  to  show  a  particular  zeal  in  promoting  this 
bill;  for  it  passed  through  both  Houses  in  two  days,  it  being  read 
thrice  in  a  day  in  them  both.     "  For  all  this  haste,"  continues  the 
minute  recorder,  "  the  Court  did  not  seem  to  design  any  such  bill 
till  it  was  proposed  by  others,  out  of  whose  hands  they  thought  fit 
to  take  it."     In  other  words,  the  Court  would  not  have  been'^Han- 
overian  in  this  matter,  but  for  outward  popular  pressure. 

Sometime  previous  to  this,  the  Eari  of  Rochester  had  designed 
to  bring  in  a  bill,  which  he  described  as  concerning  the  security  of 
the  nation,  and  the  means  whereby  such  security  was  to  be  accom- 
plished, consisted  in  bringing  over  the  Electress  Sophia  to  perma- 
nently reside  in  England. 

The  party  advocating  this  measure  comprised  men  who  were 
anything  but  zealous  for  the  interests  of  the  family  for  who^e  profit 
It  was  designed ;  but  they  favored  it,  for  the  sufficient  political 
reason  that  it  was  a  measure  displeasing  to  Queen  Anne.     It  was 
hoped  by  them,  that  out  of  the  discussion  a  confusion  mi-ht  ari^e 
from  which  something  favorable  might  be  drawn  for  the  preten- 
sions of  the  "  Prince  of  Wales."     "  They  reckoned  such  a  motion 
would  be  popular,  and  if  either  the  Court  or  the  Whigs,  on  whom 
the   Court  was   now   beginning  to   look  more  favorably,  should 
oppose  it,  this  would  cast  a  load  on  them  as  men,  who  after  all  the 
zeal  they  had  expressed  for  that  succession,  did  now,  upon  the 
hopes  of  favor  at  Court,  throw  it  up ;  and  those  who  had  been 
hitherto  considered  as  the  enemies  of  that  house,  might  hope,  by 
this  motion,  to  overcome  all  the  prejudices  that  the  nation  had 


134 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


SOPHIA  DOROTHEA. 


taken  up  against  them ;  and  they  might  create  a  merit  to  them- 
selves in  the  minds  of  that  family,  by  this  early  zeal,  which  they 
resolved  now  to  express  for  it." 

In  a  subsequent  session  of  Parliament,  the  question  of  the  resi- 
dence in  this  country  of  the  declared  successor  to  the  crown  was 
introduced  into  more  than  one  debate.     At  all  these  debates  (in 
the  House  of  Lords)   Queen  Anne  herself  was  present.     Lord 
Haversham,  in  his  speech,  arraigning  the  conduct  of  the  Duke  of 
Marlborough  in  his  various  campaigns,  touched  also  on  this  mat- 
ter.    "  He  said  we  had  declared  a  successor  to  the  crown,  who  was 
at  a  great  distance  from  us, — while  the  pretender  was  much  nearer, 
and  Scotland  was  aroused  and  ready  to  receive  him ;  and  seemed 
resolved  not  to  have  the  same  successor  for  whom  England  had 
declared ;  there  were  threatening  dangers  that  hung  over  us,  and 
might  be  near  us.     He  concluded  that  he  did  not  see  how  they 
could  be  prevented,  and  the  nation  made  safe,  by  any  other  way 
but  by  inviting  the  next  successor  to  come  and  live  among  us." 
The  Duke  of  Buckingham,  the  Earls  of  Kochester,  Nottingham, 
and  Anglesea,  carried  on  the  debate  with  great  eaniestness.     "  It 
was  urged  that  they  had  sworn  to  maintain  the  succession,  and  by 
that  they  were  bound  to  insist  on  the  motion,  since  there  were  no 
means  so  sure  to  maintain  it  as  to  have  the  successor  upon  the 
spot,  ready  to  maintain  his  right.     It  appeared  through  our  whole 
history,  that  whoever  came  first  into  England  had  always  carried 
it ;  the  pretending  successor  might  be  in  England  within  three 
days ;  whereas  it  might  be  three  weeks  before  the  declared  suc- 
cessor could  come  ;  from  thence  it  was  inferred  that  the  danger 
was  apparent  and  dreadful  if  the  successor  should  not  be  brought 
over.     With   these   lords,  by  a  strange  reverse,  all   the  Tories 
joined ;  and  by  another,  and  as  strange  a  reverse,  all  the  Whigs 
joined  in  opposing  it.     They  thought  this  motion  was  to  be  hfi 
wholly  to  the  queen  ;  that  it  was  neither  proper  nor  safe,  either 
for  the  crown  or  the  nation,  that  the  heir  should  not  be  in  an  entire 
dependence  on  the  Queen;  a  rivalry  between  two  courts  might 
bring  us  into  great  destruction,  and  be  attended  with  very  ill  con- 
sequences ;  the  next  successor  had  expressed  a  full  satisfaction, 
and  rested  on  the  assurance^  the  queen  had  given  her,  of  her  fmn 


135 


t 


t 


i 


adherence  to  the  title,  and  to  the  maintaining  of  it.  The  nation 
was  prepared  for  it  by  orders  the  queen  had  given  to  name  her  in 
the  daily  prayers  of  the  church ;  great  endeavors  had  been  used 
to  bring  the  Scotch  nation  to  declare  the  same  successor.  It  was 
true  we  still  wanted  one  great  security,  we  had  not  yet  made  any 
provisions  for  carrying  on  the  government,  for  maintaining  the 
public  quiet,  for  proclaiming,  and  for  sending  for  the  successor, 
and  for  keeping  things  in  order  till  the  successor  should  come.  It 
seemed,  therefore,  necessary  to  make  an  effectual  provision  against 
the  disorders  that  might  happen  in  such  an  interval.  This  was 
proposed  first  by  myself,  (Burnet)  and  seconded  by  the  Lord 
Godolphin,  and  all  the  Whigs  went  into  it ;  and  so  the  question 
was  put  before  the  other  motion,  as  first  put,  by  a  previous  divi- 
sion, whether  that  should  be  put  or  not,  and  was  carried  in  the 
negative  by  about  three  to  one." 

If  this  be  not  elegantly,  it  is  at  least  clearly  expressed  by  Bur- 
net, who,  in  adding  that  the  queen  was  present  throughout  this 
monstrous  debate,  informs  us  that  her  majesty  was  "  annoyed  at 
the  behaviour  of  some  who,  when  they  had  credit  with  her,  and 
apprehended  that  such  a  motion  might  be  made  by  the  Whigs,  had 
possessed  her  with  deep  prejudices  against  it,  for  they  made  her 
apprehend  that  when  the  next  successor  should  be  brought  over, 
she  herself  would  be  so  eclipsed  by  it,  that  she  would  be  much  in 
the  successor's  power,  and  reign  only  at  her,  or  his  courtesy ;  yet 
these  very  persons,  having  now  lost  their  interest  in  her,  and  their 
posts,  were  driving  on  that  very  motion  which  they  made  her 
apprehend  was  the  most  fatal  thing  that  could  befall.     This,  the 
Duchess  of  Marlborough  told  me,  but  she  named  no  jierson  ;  and 
upon  it  a  very  black  suspicion  was  taken  uj)  by  some,  that  the  pro- 
posers of  this  matter  knew,  or  at  least  believed,  that  the  queen 
would  not  agree  to  this  motion   which  way  soever  it  might  be 
brought  to  her,  whether  in  an  address  or  in  a  bill ;  and  then  they 
might  reckon  that  this  would  give  such  a  jealousy,  and  create  such 
a  misunderstanding  between  her  and  the  Pariiament,  or  rather  the 
whole  nation,  as  would  unsettle  her  whole  government,  and  put  all 
things  in  disorder.     But  this  was  only  a  suspicion,  and  more  can- 
not be  made  of  it." 


136 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


SOPHIA   DOROTHEA. 


137 


Plain  as  all  this  is  in  some  things,  and  suggestive  in  others,  it 
does  not  explain  much  that  is  incomprehensible  and  unsatisfactory 
in  the  history  of  the  succession  settlement,  and  the  intrigues  by 
which  it  was  accomplished.  The  question  first  became  a  serious 
one,  when  the  son  of  Anne,  her  only  child,  the  hope  of  Protestant 
England,  died  in  the  year  1700.  King  William  bore  the  misfor- 
tune which  had  befallen  his  sister-in-law  with  that  cheerful  resigna- 
tion which  the  selfish  feel  for  the  calamities  of  other  people.  He 
looked  very  sharply  to  the  pecuniary  profits  to  be  made  by  the 
suppression  of  the  young  duke's  household,  and  he  concerned  him- 
self ver}-  little  touching  the  outward  marks  of  mourning  which 
custom  and  decency  enjoined  as  observance  of  respect.  He  was 
then  himself  a  widowed  king,  in  seclusion  at  Loo,  and  such  of  the 
Protestant  party  who  believed  that  the  marriage  of  Anne  with 
George  of  Denmaik  would  be  productive  of  no  further  issue, 
busied  themselves  in  finding  ehgible  wives  for  King  William,  and 
congratulated  themselves  on  the  prospects  of  a  succession  thence 
to  arise.  William,  howe\er,  did  not  care  to  second  their  views ; 
and  he  was  in  this  condition  of  disregard  for  the  succession  to  the 
crown,  when  he  was  visited  by  the  Electress  Sophia  of  Hanover 
and  her  daughter  the  Electress  of  Brandenburg.  The  latter  was 
that  Sophia  Charlotte,  under  whose  superintendence  Caroline  of 
Anspach,  the  queen-consort  of  George  II.,  was  educated. 

It  was  said  that  this  visit  had  no  other  object  than  to  secure 
William's  influence  with  the  Empress  for  the  elevation  of  the  elec- 
torate of  Brandenburg  to  the  rank  of  a  kuigdom  under  the  name 
of  Prussia.  William,  however,  possessed  no  such  influence,  and 
the  visit  alluded  to  had  no  such  object.  The  story  of  the  rise  of 
Prussia  may  be  told  in  a  very  few  words,  and  it  is  not  disconnect- 
ed from  the  history  of  Sopliia  Dorothea,  for  the  crown  of  that 
kingdom  subsequently  rested  on  the  brow  of  her  only  daughter. 

The  Polish  Dukedom  of  Prussia  had  fallen,  by  inheritance,  to 
the  Elector  of  Brandenburg,  in  1G18.  About  forty  years  later,  it 
was  made  free  of  all  Polish  jurisdiction,  and  annexed  to  Branden- 
burg, by  treaty.  During  the  following  thirty  years,  the  possessions 
of  the  Great  Elector,  as  he  was  called,  were  greatly  enlarged, 
chiefly  by  marriage  treaties  or  by  legal  inheritance  ;  and  when 


Frederick,  the  son  of  the  Great  Elector,  succeeded  to  his  father's 
dominions,  in  1  (588,  he  had  nothing  so  much  at  heart  as  the  eleva- 
tion of  the  electorate  into  a  kingdom.  He  succeeded  in  obtaining 
the  title  of  king  from  the  Emperor  of  Germany,  not  without  diffi- 
culty. His  claim  was  grounded  on  the  fact  that  he  exercised 
sovereign  right  in  Prussia,  and  it  only  succeeded  by  being  support- 
ed by  promises  of  adherence  to  the  house  of  Austria  in  all  difficul- 
ties, and  by  a  bribe,  or  purchase-money,  of  nine  millions  of  thalers, 
two  hundred  thousand  of  which  went  into  the  pockets  of  the 
Jesuits,  whose  agency  brought  the  negotiation  to  a  successful 
close. 

In  1701,  only  a  few  months  after  the  visit  of  the  Electress  So- 
phia to  William  at  the  Hague,  the  Elector  of  Brandenburg  crowned 
himself,  at  Konigsburg,  by  the  style  and  title  of  ''Frederick  I., 
Kuig  in  Prussia ;"  and  then  crowned  the  electress,  his  wife,  as  she 
knelt  before  him.  Such  is  the  brief  history  of  the  foundation  of 
the  kingdom  of  Prussia,  Such  a  consummation  had  been  eagerly 
obstructed  by  the  knightly  orders  in  Giirmany,  and  hotly  opposed 
by  Rome.  Tlie  pojje,  who  had  seen  the  old  protector  of  Protest- 
antism, the  Elector  of  Saxony,  abandon  his  trust,  could  not,  with- 
out much  vexation,  witness  the  establishing  in  Germany  of  a  new 
stronghold  for  the  reformed  religion,  and  under  the  more  secure 
and  influential  form  of  a  kingdom.  He  represented  that  such  a 
Protestant  kingdom  would  be  the  eternal  adversary  of  the  Catholic 
house  of  Austria,  and  in  such  representation  he  was  not  to  be  gain- 
said. The  most  amusing  fact  connected  therewith  is,  that  the 
Jesuits  in  Austria,  for  the  sake  of  a  pecuniary  "  consideration," 
furthered  the  establishment  of  the  Protestant  monarchy  that  was 
to  prove  a  thorn  in  the  side  of  the  Catholic  imperial  power. 

Whatever  cause  attracted  the  Electress  of  Hanover  to  Loo,  she 
was  but  scurvily  welcomed  by  William,  who  paid  her  one  formal 
visit,  and  then  suddenly  departed  for  England.  He  probably  had 
a  dread  of  the  old  and  energetic  lady,  who  was  not  only  anxious 
for  the  settling  of  the  succession  in  her  o>vn  family,  but — like  the 
provident  gentleman  who  bowed  to  the  statue  of  Jupiter  in  a  mu- 
seum, and  begged  the  god  to  bear  the  respect  in  mind,  if  he  should 
ever  be  restored  to  greatness  again, — was  also  given  to  express 


138      LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 

such  concern  for  the'interesU  of  the  exiled  famUy  as  might  insure 
hbera  treatment  from  them,  should  they,  in  popular  phrase,  ever 
come  to  their  own  again. 

.;.!'''%!'"' w",r  ""  "'"  °*  "'"'*'  "■""•"'  "*^™  <■""  of  inconsisten. 
cies.    Thus,  Wtlham,  who  had  undoubtedly  first  opened,  as  I  have 

previously  stated,  negotiations  with  the  Hanoverian  family  to 
secure  their  succession  to  a  throne  from  which  he  had  ejected 
James  II  went  into  deep  mourning,  as  did  half  Englaud,  when 
that  exiled  monarch  died.  The  Princess  Anne  did  the  same,  and 
yet,  as  queen,  she  projected  and  sanctioned  the  bill  of  attainder 
against  the  son  and  heir  of  her  father  ;-a  son  whom  William  UL 
had  proffered  to  adopt,  at  the  peace  of  Ryswick ' 

When  the  old  Electress  of  Hanover  visited  William  at  Loo,  her 
visit  may  probably  have  had  reference  to  a  favorite  project  of  that 

the  throne,  on  his  demise,  to  the  exclusion  of  the  Princess  Anne, 
as  papers,  discovered  at  Kensington  after  his  decease,  contained 
many  references  to  this  subject ;  and  it  may  have  been    hat  it  wa^ 
because  he  had  so  alluded  to  the  matter,  that  he  was  rclucanrto 
treat  of  .t  verbally.     The  report  was  certainly  current  at  th  "me 
hat  among  the  defunct  king's  papers  was  a  written  ...commeX* 
..on  or  what  might  be  interpreted  a.,  such,  to  invite  .he  ElecTre's 
of  Hanover  and  her  son  ,o  take  possession  of  the  thtx.ne  of  En-^land 
.mmediately  after  his  death.    Pamphlets  were  published  in  def  " 
of  the  queens  rights,  against  such  a  recommendation  of  exclusion 
The  government,  indeed,  declared  that  the  reiKir,  of  the  intended 
exclusion  was  false  and  groundless;  which  may  We  been  the 
case,  without  affecting  the  request  that  a  hint  L  such  a  coui 
had  really  been  found  in  the  paper*  of  the  deceased  kin. 

When  the  accession  of  Anne  brought  the  husband'of  Sophia 
Dorothea  one  step  nearer  to  the  throne  of  England,  there  exXd 
a  law  which  was  one  of  the  most  singular  in"conn;ction,"hS 
law  of  taxation;  and  the  singularity  alone  of  which  authorizes  me 
to  make  mention  of  it  here.     I„  April,  169.5,  this  law  h^  been 

rate,  and  duties  upon  marriages,  births,  and  burials,  .and  upon 
bachelors  and  widower.,  "for  the  carrying  on  the  ;ar  agls" 


SOPHIA  DOROTHEA. 


139 


France  with  vigor."  By  the  graduated  scale  of  this  law,  which 
commenced  with  the  deaths,  a  duke  or  duchess  could  not  die  with- 
out paying  50/.  sterling  for  the  enjoyment  of  the  luxury.  It  would 
be  more  correct,  perhaps,  to  say  that  the  heir  could  not  administer 
till  such  impost  had  been  paid.  A  marquis  could  depart  at  a 
diminished  cost  of  40/. ;  while  an  earl  was  decreed  as  worth  only 
5/.  less  than  a  marquis,  and  his  decease  brought  into  the  treasury 
the  sum  of  35/.  The  scale  descended  till  it  included  "  every  gen- 
tleman, or  so  reputed,  or  his  wife,  20s.,"  and  also,  "  every  person 
having  a  real  estate  of  50/.  per  annum,  or  in  personal  estate  600/. 
to  pay  205.,  and  for  his  wife  10*."  Nobody  was  forgotten  in  this 
scale.  No  class  was  passed  over,  as  the  town  of  Berwick  was 
when  the  old  property  tax  was  laid  on, — an  omission  which  the 
indignant  town  on  the  Tweed  resented  as  an  insult  gross  and 
undeserved. 

A  similar  scale  affected  the  births :  a  duke  (or  an  archbishop, 
who  throughout  the  scale  ranked  as  a  duke)  having  a  first  son  bom 
to  him,  was  mulcted  of  50/.  for  the  honor ;  while  the  commonest 
citizen  could  not  legally  be  a  father,  at  less  cost  in  taxation  than 
"  105.  for  every  son  and  daughter."  And  so  again  with  marriages : 
a  ducal  knot  carried  with  it  the  usual  dignified  50/.  to  the  treasury ; 
and  the  scale  ran  gradually  down  till  the  marriage  tax  embraced 
**  every  person  else  that  did  not  receive  alms,"  on  whom  a  levy 
was  made  of  half-a-crown  to  the  king,  in  addition  to  what  was 
expected  by  the  minister. 

It  is  an  ordinary  policy  to  tax  luxuries  only ;  but  under  this 
law  every  condition  of  life  was  set  down  as  a  luxury.  It  was 
right,  perhaps,  to  set  down  marriage  as  a  luxury,  for  it  is  intended 
to  be  so ;  and  where  such  is  not  the  case,  the  fault  lies  in  the  par- 
ties who  are  too  self-willed  to  allow  it  to  be  an  enjoyment.  Bach- 
elors and  widowers  probably  paid  the  impost  with  decent  cheerful- 
ness. Death,  as  an  undoubted  luxury,  both  to  the  patient  and  to 
the  heir  who  profited  by  it,  might  also  be  fairly  placed  under  the 
operation  of  this  law.  The  cruelty  in  the  enactment  consisted  in 
the  rate  put  upon  births.  It  was  not  misery  enough  that  a  man 
should  be  born,  but  that  his  welcome  should  be  put  in  jeopardy  by 
his  coming  in  company  with  the  tax-gatherer.     I  can  fancy  Mr. 


140 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


Shandy  having  much  to  say  upon  this  particular  point,  and  the 
law  IS  certamly  obnoxious  to  ,nueh  Shandean  obse!^ati;n  Th! 
most  scnously  cruel  portion  of  this  law  was  that,  however  wSh 
affec  ed  a  class  of  persons  who  could  ill  afford  to  be  so  s  Jit.e^a^ 
ths  enactment  thus  smote  them.  Not  only  was  eve^  persln  wh^ 
M  not  receive  ahns  compelled  to  pay  one  penny  pefw^ek  but 
one  farthmg  per  week,  in  tAe  pound,  was  le4d  on  all  servant 
rece  vmg  wages  amounting  to  4/.  per  annum.  "Those"  Iv 
bmollett,  "  who  received  frnm  w  ♦    ^n       -.  a  nose,     say  a 

pound  p;rweek."^7hrC.  'or'  i^^^^^^^^^^ 

ine  war  w  ith  h  ranee  might  be  carried  on  with  vi^or 

que^LTTt  ruf  "'""T  "*  '"^  '^'^^""•"'  '-"^  -«•  "^e 
4uesuon  ot  the  succession  to  the  crown  r.v  t,^^  i      i    • 

observed,  ...at  on  the  question  as  loXlr  tit  iS^^  r,  "^ 
and  the  husband  of  the  imnri-^on,.,!  «  I  tI  ,'^^'  ^P^"«> 
an  agiu.io„  of  .heir  inter^^fi  E  ^a^L^^^^^^^^^^^  ^^"«.'°"^'"^ 
uneasiness  to  the  queen  there  i    ^fT  .'    .,  ^"'^  '"^  *^«""""ed 

Mus  Strickland,  i.i  w" 'pic:;:;?  td  ':^^ji  ^"•"  f - 

veo' zealously  essays  ,0  prove  tlia.  the  E  cfr  t  Sot  w^^^^ 
exceptionable  and  disinterested,  as  to  her  condu^  1?^!,^  """ 
just  named  cites  from  the  ioum>,l  nf  ,1  i  .  ■  ^''*= '"*'<""'" 
what  that  lady  states  to  be  l^H^Z':^^''^'  ^°"'"^^' 
the  invi.a.ions  which  had  been  -.-.iH.Ll  1  !.  ,  ^"""■'''  *°  •■*" 
during  ,he  year   1704   Ld   H.e  /         "anoverian  Tories 

queen's  Cab  ne,  Coiitii    Su    h      v'      ?  '"""""•      "^'   ">« 

""^^''  ^""uiiv,  November  llfh   I7n^  ^      • 

here  was  ready  to  prooo^P  if       tk  *    u     xf  '^^^  ^'^  P^^^ 

caused  the  sam^e  pe^n":  t  acq^l  ^  'Z^VS^^f 

tUe  queen  of' El^i^^j;   :j:£'^-;;^^^^  '•  came  from 

attempt  so  much  that  it  was  believed  nn,  'I'-'couraged  the 

inil."    «Thc   moderate  r„H,  ""  """'^  could  be  said 

moderate   and   humane   conduct  of  the   Princess 


SOPHIA  DOROTHEA. 


141 


* 


i 


Sophia,    adds  Miss  Strickland,-"  conduct  which  the  irr^fra-ible 
evidence  of  events  proved  was  sincere  and  true,  did  not  mollify 
the  burning  jealousy  of  Queen  Anne.     If  we  may  believe  the  cor- 
respondence of  the  Jacobite  writer.  Dr.  Davenant,  angry  letters 
were  wntten  by  Queen  Anne  to  the  Princess  Sophia,  who,  know- 
mg  how  little  she  had  deserved  them,  and  being  of  a  hi^h  spirit 
retorted  with  displeasure,  yet  did  not  alter  the  fntrinsiclnteS 
of  her  conduct      The  Duchess  of  Marlborough  was  reckless  in  her 
abuse  of  the  Protestant  heiress;  and  it  is  certain,  by  her  letters, 
that  she  worked  on  the  mind  of  the  queen  with  aU  her  might,  to 
keep  up  her  jealousy  and  alarm,  regarding  the  advancement  of  her 
high-minded  cousin,  Sophia.     A  running  fit  of  angry  correspond- 
ence was  actually  kept  up  between  the  queen  and  the  Princess 
Sop  iia  from  March  5,  1705.     It  was  increased  at  every  violent 
political  agitation,  until  we  shall  see  the  scene  of  this  world's  -lory 
close  almost  simultaneously  on  both  the  royal  kinswomen."     ° 

The  trut^h  is  that  Sophia,  who  was  naturally  reluctant  to  come 
to  England  upon  a  mere  popular  or  partisan  invitation,  would 
gladly  have  come  on  the  bidding  of  the  queen.  This  was  never 
g.ven  and  hence  .he  angry  correspondence.  It  is  said  that  not 
only  Anne,  but  that  Sophia  hei^clf,  would  have  sacrificed  the  in- 
terests  of  the  House  of  Hanover,  and  would  have  secured  the 
succession  to  the  son  of  James  II.,  if  ,he  Utter  would  have  con- 
sented to  profess  tlie  Pi-o.es.ant  religion.  The  queen  and  electress 
.ere  perfectly  safe  in  consenting  to  such  a  sacrifice  on  such  a 
sf^ulation,  for  they  might  have  been  perf-ec.ly  sure  that  it  would 
never  be   istened  to.     Then  again,  much  has  been  said  about  the 

rejected  Mhig  ministry,  towards  the  end  of  Anne's  reign,  wrote  a 
letter  to  Marlborough,  ye.  in  command  of  the  army  abroad,  offer- 
ing to  seize  the  queen  and  proclaim  the  Elec.rcss  of  Hanover,  as 
regent  ,f  Marlborough  could  bring  over  a  force  upon  which  he 
could  depend,  to  su,>port  them.  Marlborough  is  declared  to  have 
described  such  a  project  as  one  of  rank  insanity;  and  it  is  stated 
that  Sophia  contented  herself  with  recommending  lier  son  to  the 
consideration  of  the  actual  ministry.  This  proves  nothing  more,  either 
tor  mother  or  son,  than  that  at  a  period  when  the  health  of  Anne 


142 


LIVES   OF  THE    QUEENS   OF   ENGLAND. 


was  failing,  they  were  very  prudently  contented  to  wait  for  an 
inheritance  which  every  day  brought  nearer  to  their  grasp,  from 
which  any  day  it  might  be  snatched  by  popular  commotion. 

In  one  year,  the  queen  sent  a  request  to  the  electress  to  aid  her 
in  promoting  the  peace  of  P:urope,  and  a  present  to  her  god- 
daughter  Anne,  the  first  child  of  George  Augustus  and  Caroline 
of  Anspach.     Earl  Rivers  carried  both  letter  and  present.     The 
latter  was  acknowledged  with  cold  courtesy  by  the  electress,  in  a 
communication  to  the  Earl  of  Strafford,  secretary  of  state      The 
communication  bears  date  Nov.  11,  1711  ;  and,  after  saying  that 
the  gift  is  infinitely  esteemed,  the  electress  adds—"  I  would  not 
however,  give  my  parchment  for  it,  since  that  will  be  an  ever^ 
lasting  monument  in  the  archives  of  Hanover,  and  the  present 
for  the  mtle  princess  will  go,  when  she  is  grown  up,  into  another 
lamily.       It  is  suggested  that  by  "  my  parchment,"  is  meant  the 
queen's  letter  to  the  electress,  but  the  letter  was  a  letter  and 
nothmg  more.     It  was  no  commission,  and  is  not  likely  to  have 
been   engrossed.     The  word  -  parchment,"  it  is  much  more  pro- 
bable,  had  reference  to  the  act  of  succession,  which  certainly  was 
and  remains  "  an  everlasting  monument  in  die  archives  of  Han- 
over." 

When  the  daugliter  of  Sophia  Dorothea  married  the  Prince  of 
Prussia,  the  young  married   couple  repaired  to  Brussels,  in  the 
hope  of  receiving  an  invitation  to  England  from  Queen  Anne 
They  waited  in  vain,  and  returned  without  being  noticed  at  all 
There  was  something  more  than  mere  jealousy  in  this  conduct  of 
the  Bntish  queen,  and  the  angry  allusions  in  the  coiTespondence 
of  Anne  and  Sophia  tend  to  prove  this  ;   for  though  the  latter 
may  not  have  been,  and  probably  was  not,  intriguing  against  the 
peace  of  the  queen,  she  was  desirous  that  the  electoral  prince 
should  visit  the  country,  while  Anne  was  as  determmed  tliat  he 
should  not  come,  if  she  and  her  ministiy  could  prevent  it. 

In  November,  1714,  Anne  addressed  a  poweiful  remonstrance 
to  the  aged  electress,  complaining  that  ever  since  the  Act  of  Sue- 
cession  had  been  settled,  there  had  been  a  constant  agitation,  the 
object  of  which  was  to  bring  over  a  prince  of  the  Hanoverian 
house  to  reside  in  England,  even  during  the  writer's  life.     She 


SOPHIA  DOROTHEA. 


143 


accuses  the  electress  of  having  come,  though  perhaps  tardily,  into 
this  sentiment,  which  had  its  origin  in  political  pretensions,. and 
slie  adds  that  if  persevered  in,  it  may  end  in  consequences  dan- 
gei-ous  to  the  succession  itself,  "  which  is  not  secure  any  other 
ways  than  as  the  princess,  who  actually  wears  the  crown,  main- 
tains her  authority  and  prerogative."  The  royal  writer  makes  a 
strong  appeal  to  the  feelings  and  loyalty  of  the  dowager-electress, 
adding  such  expressions  of  confidence  in  her  good  intentions,  as 
courteous  people  are  apt  to  express  to  persons  in  whom  they  do 
not  fully  trust,  and  whom  they  would  not  altogether  offend. 

Nor  was  she  satisfied  with  this  alone.  Her  Majesty  addressed 
a  second  letter  to  George  Augustus,  as  Duke  of  Cambridge,  im- 
partially expressing  her  thoughts  with  respect  to  the  design  he 
had  of  coming  into  her  kingdom.  Afler  a  rotundity  of  paraphrase, 
which  is  anything  but  Ciceronian,  she  says,  "I  should  tell  you, 
nothing  can  be  more  dangerous  to  the  tranquillity  of  my  dominions, 
and  the  right  of  succession  in  your  line,  and  consequently  most 
disagreeable  to  me." 

These  letters  undoubtedly  helped  to  kill  the  proud  dowager- 
electress,  although  it  is  said  of  her  that  "  that  illustrious  lady  had 
experienced  too  many  changes  of  capricious  fortune  in  her  youth, 
to  be  slain  with   a   few    capricious    words."     The  conclusion  ij 
illogical,  and  the  terms  incorrect.     The  words  were  not  capricious, 
they  were  solemn,  sober  truth ;  and  they  thwarted  her  in  one  of 
her  great  desires.    She  would  have  been  glad  to  see  the  son  of  the 
electress  take  his  place  in  the  House  of  Peers  as  Duke  of  Cam- 
bridge ;  and  her  not  unnatural  ambition  is  manifest  in  the  words, 
that  "  she  cared  not  when  she  died,  if  on  her  tomb  could  be  re- 
corded that  she  was  Queen  of  Great  Britain  and  Ireland."    These 
words  are  said  to  have  given  great  offence  to  Queen  Anne ;  and 
some  profit  to  Tom  D'Urfey,  who,  standing  at  her  majesty's  side- 
board, during  the  queen's  dessert,  after  her  three  o'clock  dinner, 
received,  it  is  said,  "  a  fee  of  fifty  pounds  for  a  stanza  which  he 
composed  soon  after  Queen  Anne's  refusal  to  invite  the  Elector  of 
Hanover's  son,  for  the  puq)ose  of  taking  his  place  as  Duke  of 
Cambridge  in  the  house  of  peers."     Here  is  a  verse  of  the  dot^- 


144 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


\l 


gerel  which  delighted  the  monarch,  and  brought  guerdon  to  the 
minstrel. 

The  crown's  far  too  weighty 

For  shoulders  of  eighty  ; 
She  could  not  sustain  such  a  trophy. 

Her  hand,  too,  already 

Has  grown  so  unsteady, 

She  can't  hold  a  sceptre  ; — 

So  Providence  kept  her 
Away,  poor  old  dowager  Sophy  ! 

There  is  evidence  that  the  last  letters  of  Anne  really  had  some- 
thing to  do  with  the  death  of  the  electress.  They  had  hardly  been 
received  and  read,  when  her  health,  wliich  certainly  had  been  for 
some  time  failing,  grew  worse.  She  rallied,  however,  for  a  time, 
and  was  able  to  take  exercise,  but  the  blow  had  been  given  from 
which  she  never  recovered. 

Molyneux,  an  agent  of  the  Duke  of  Marlborough,  at  Hanover, 
says :— He  was  on  his  way  to  the  country  palace  of  the  electress, 
when  he  was  suddenly  infonned  that  she  had  been  seized  with 
mortal  illness  in  one  of  the  garden  walks. 

"I  ran  up  there,  and  found  her  fast  expiring  in  the  arms  of  the 
poor  electoral  princess  (Caroline,  afterwards  queen  of  George  II.) 
and  amidst  the  tears  of  a  great  many  of  her  servants,  who  endea- 
vored in  vain   to  help  her.     I  can  give  you   no  account  of  her 
ilhiess,  but  that  I  believe  the  chagiin  of  those  villanous  letters  I 
sent  you  last  post,  has  been  in  a  great  measure  the  cause  of  it 
The  Rheingravine  who  has  been  with  her  these  fifteen  years,  has 
told  me  she  never  knew  anything  make  so  deep  an  impression  on 
her,  as  the  affair  of  the  prince's  journey,  which  I  am  sure  she  had 
to  the  last  degree  at  heart,  and  she  has  done  me  the  honor  to  tell 
me  so  twenty  times.     In  the  midst  of  this,  however,  these  letters 
arrived,  and  these,  I  verily  believe,  have  broken  her  heart,  and 
brought  her  with  sorrow  to  the  grave.    The  letters  were  delivered 
on  Wednesday  at  seven. 

"  When  I  came  to  court  she  was  at  cards,  but  was  so  full  of 
these  letters  that  she  got  up  and  ordered  me  to  follow  her  into  the 
garden,  where  she  gave  them  to  me  to  read,  and  walked,  and  spoke 
a  great  deal  in  relation  to  them.     I  believe  she  walked  three  hours 


SOPHIA  DOROTHEA. 


145 


* 


that  night.     The  next  morning,  which  was  Thursday,  I  heard  that 
she  was  out  of  order,  and  on  going  immediately  to  court,  she  or- 
dered me  to  be  called  into  her  bed-chamber.     She  gave  me  the 
letters  I  sent  you  to  copy ;  she  bade  me  send  them  next  post,  and 
bring  them  afterwards  to  her  to  court.     This  was  on  Friday.     In 
the  morning,  on  Friday,  they  told  me  she  was  very  well,  but  seemed 
much  chagrined.     She  was  dressed,  and  dined  with  the  elector  as 
usual.     At  four,  she  did  me  the  honor  to  send  to  town  for  some 
other  copies  of  the  same  letters ;  and  then  she  was  still  perfectly 
well.     She  walked  and  talked  very  heartily  in  the  orangery.     After 
that,  about  six,  she  went  out  to  walk  in  the  garden,  and  was  still 
very  well.     A  shower  of  i-ain  came,  and  as  she  was  walking  pretty 
fast  to  get  to  shelter,  they  told  her  she  was  walking  a  little  too  fast. 
She  answered,  '  I  believe  I  do,'  and  dropped  down  on  saying  these 
words,  which  were  her  last.     They  raised  her  up,  chafed  her  with 
spirits,  tried  to  bleed  her ;  but  it  was  all  in  vain,  and  when  I  came 
up,  she  was  as  dead  as  if  she  had  been  four  days  so."* 

Such  was  the  end,  on  June  10,  1714,  of  a  very  remarkable  wo- 
man ;  a  woman  who  bore  with  more  complacency  than  any  other 
trial,  that  indeed  which  was  scarcely  a  trial  to  her  at  all,— the  infi- 
delities of  her  husband.  For  the  honor  of  that  husband  she  her- 
self was  exceedingly  jealous.  This  was  exhibited  on  more  than 
one  occasion. 

William  HI.  once  showed  his  gratitude  to  the  Duke  of  Zell  for 
political  ser\ices  rendered  in  cabinet  or  field,  by  conferring  on  him 
Uie  Order  of  the  Garter.  This  favor,  however,  rendered  the  Elect- 
ress Sophia  furious.  She  could  bear  complacently  the  infidelities 
and  the  neglect  of  her  husband,  but  her  mind,  full  of  reference  for 
etiquette,  propriety,  and  the  fitness  of  things,  as  set  do^Ti  by  the 
masters  of  ceremonies,  could  not  tolerate  that  a  younger  brother 
should  wear  a  distinction  which,  so  far  as  it  went,  elevated  him 
above  the  elder  branch  of  his  house. 

The  astute  lady  affected  to  be  unable  to  comprehend  the  reason 
for  thus  passing  over  her  husband.  The  reason,  perhaps,  was  tliat 
m  principle  she  herself  was  a  thorough  Jacobite,  and  that  Jacobite 

*  Letter  to  the  Duke  of  Marlborough. 


146 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS   OF   ENGLAND. 


principles  influenced  the  elder  branch  of  a  family  which,  neverthe- 
less, was  not  without  some  hopes  of  rising  to  a  throne  through  a 
popular  and  national  triumph  over  these  very  principles. 

The  electress,  it  may  be  added,  oscillated  very  actively  between 
two  extremes,  and  endeavored  to  maintain  friendship  with  both 
parties.  She  corresponded  with  the  dethroned  James  at  St,  Ger- 
mains,  and  she  wrote  very  afliectionate  letters  to  his  daughter  Mar}*, 
who,  in  succeeding  him  in  the  palace  from  which  he  had  tied,  rolled 
herself  over  the  cushions,  on  which  he  had  so  lately  sat,  in  frolic- 
some but  untilial  delight.  Her  letters  to  Anne  were  marked  by 
more  ceremonv  than  those  addressed  to  Mary,  and  for  this  reason: 
she  respected  the  latter  as  a  clever  woman,  but  for  Amie  she  had 
a  contempt,  ill  concealed,  tmd  a  very  thin  cloak  of  civility, — deem- 
ing her  to  be  destitute  of  ability,  and  unendowed  with  personal 
qualities  to  com{)ensaie  for  the  defect.  She  had  little  more  respect 
for  Anne's  father  than  she  had  for  Aime  herself,  but  in  the  former 
case  she  hid  her  want  of  attachment  beneath  a  greater  weight  of 
ceremony. 

But  if  she  loved  neither  king  nor  queen  in  England,  she  had  a 
strong  feeling,  or  at  least  declared  she  had,  in  favor  of  the  countrj* 
itself.  She  used  to  speak  of  Great  Britain  as  being  her  own  na- 
tive hmd,  and  expressed  a  wish  that  she  might  be  buried  beside 
her  mother  in  Westminster  Abbey.  It  is  doubtful  whether  this 
expression  was  founded  on  affection  or  ambition,  for.  as  we  have 
before  stated,  she  declared  she  could  die  happy,  were  she  so  to  die 
as  to  warrant  her  tomb  being  distinguished  by  the  inscription, 
"  Here  lies  Sophia  Queen  of  England." 

**  It  is  my  own  country,"  she  used  to  say ;  and  she  told  Lord 
Dartmouth,  when  the  latter  was  sojourning  at  Hanover,  that  she 
had  once  in  her  younger  d;\ys.  been  on  the  point  of  becoming 
Queen  of  England,  by  a  m;\rriage  which  was  said  to  have  been 
projected  between  her  and  Charles  11.  She  added,  in  her  coarse 
way,  thiU  England  would  have  profited  by  such  a  marriage,  for 
her  numerous  children  would  have  rendered,  as  she  suggested,  a 
•disputed  succession  less  comphcated ; — a  conclusion  which  w«s  by 
no  means  logically  arrived  at ;  tor  in  England  she  might  not  have 
been  the  prolitic  mother  she  was  in  Germany  :  and,  moreover,  of 


SOPHIA   DOROTHEA. 


147 


^ 


that  German  family,  the  half  went  over  to  that  faith,  the  following 
of  which  rendered  them  ineligible  to  the  crown  of  Great  Britam. 

None  knew  better  than  the  electress  dowager  on  what  basis  her 
claims  rested.  If  she  nehher  openly  nor  privately  agitated  the 
question,  she  was  not  indifferent  as  to  its  consequences  ;  and  though 
anxious,  she  was  quiet ;  and  was  quiet,  because  she  was  in  reality 
sincere.  In  a  letter,  written  by  the  electress  on  this  very  subject, 
and  quoted  by  Miss  Benger  in  her  life  of  the  mother  of  the  elect- 
ress, there  is  the  following  passage  :— - 1  find  all  the  fine  speeches 
too  strong ;  they  are  only  fit  to  amuse  the  lower  orders,  for  the 
comparing  the  Prince  of  Wales  with  Perkin  is  too  strong.  And 
it  is  not  he  who  could  by  right  deprive  me  of  the  crown.  If  a 
Catholic  king  could  not  succeed,  the  crown  is  mine  by  right.  With- 
out that,  there  are  many  nearer  to  the  succession  than  I  am.  So, 
I  do  not  like  that  the  Prince  of  Wales  should  be  caUed  bastard : 
for  I  love  the  truth." 


CHAPTER  Xi. 

AHLDEX    ASD    EXGLAXD. 

DuBiXG  marriage  festival-  and  Court  fetes  held  to  celebrate 
some  step  in  greatness,  Sophia  Dorothea  contmued  to  vegetate  in 
Ahlden.  She  was  politically  dead ;  and  even  in  the  domestic  oc- 
currences  of  her  family,  events  in  which  a  mother  might  be  grace- 
fully allowed  to  have  a  part,  she  enjoyed  no  share.  The  marriages 
of  her  children,  and  the  births  of  M«>  chUdren,  were  not  officially 
communicated  to  her.  She  wa*  left  to  learn  them  through  chance 
or  tlie  courtesy  of  individuals. 

Her  daughter  was  now  the  second  Queen  of  Prussia,  but  the 
king  cared  not  to  exercise  his  influence  in  behalf  of  hi^  unfortunate 
mother-in-law.  Not  that  he  was  unconcerned  with  respect  to  her. 
His  consort  was  heiress  to  property  over  which  her  mother  had 
control,  and  Frederick  wa^  not  tranquil  >f  mind  untU  this  property 
had  been  secured  as  the  indisputable  inheritance  of  his  wife.  He 
was  earnest  enough  in  his  correspondeooe  with  Sophia  Dorothea, 


148 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


until  this  consummation  was  arrived  at ;  and  when  he  held  the 
writings  which  secured  the  succession  of  certain  portions  of  the 
property  of  the  duchess  on  his  consort,  he  ceased  to  trouble  him- 
self further  with  any  question  connected  with  the  unfortunate  pris- 
oner ;  except,  indeed,  that  he  forbade  his  wife  to  hold  any  further 
intercourse  whh  her  mother,  by  letter,  or  otherwise.  This  prohi- 
bition was  by  far  too  obediently  observed,  and  Sophia  Dorothea 
was  in  this  much  like  old  King  Lear,  that  by  endowing  a  daughter 
she  lost  a  child. 

Few  and  trivial  are  the  incidents  told  of  her  long  captivity. 
The  latter  had  been  embittered  in  1703,  by  the  knowledge  that 
Mademoiselle  von  Schulemberg  was  the  mother  of  another  daugh- 
ter, Margaret  Gerti-ude,  of  whom  the  elector  was  the  father.  This 
child,  of  whom  little  is  known,  but  of  whom  we  shall  have  to  speak 
in  a  future  reign,  was  ten  years  younger  than  her  sister,  Petronilla 
Melusina,  who  subsequently  figured  at  the  Court  of  George  II.  as 
Countess  of  Walsingham,  and  who,  as  the  careless  and  uncared-for 
wife  of  Philip  Stanhope,  Earl  of  Chesterfield,  gave,  nevertheless, 
very  considerable  trouble  to  that  celebrated  personage,  who  had  the 
spirit  to  be  a  patriot,  and  the  tact  to  be  a  gentleman,  but  who  had 
neither  the  tact  nor  the  principle  to  be  a  Christian.  In  the  latter 
respect,  the  parties  were,  for  a  time  at  least,  not  ill-matched. 

Previous  to  the  prohibition  laid  on  his  wife  by  the  King  of 
Prussia,  an  epistolary  intercourse  had  been  privately  maintained 
between  the  prisoner  and  her  daughter.  Such  intercourse  had 
never  the  king's  sanction  ;  and  when  it  came  to  his  knowledge,  at 
the  period  of  the  settlement  of  part  of  the  maternal  property  on 
the  daughter,  he  peremptorily  ordered  its  cessation.  It  had  been 
maintained  chiefly  by  means  of  a  Chevalier  de  Bar ;  Ludwig,  a 
privy-counsellor  at  Berlin  ;  Frederick,  a  page  of  the  queen's ;  and 
a  baiUff  of  the  castle  of  Ahlden.  There  were  too  many  confederates 
in  a  matter  so  simple,  and  the  whole  of  them  betrayed  the  poor 
lady,  for  whom  they  professed  to  act.  The  most  important  agent 
was  the  chevalier;  in  him  the  duchess  confided  longest,  and  in 
his  want  of  faith  she  was  the  last  to  believe.  He  had  introduced 
himself  to  her  by  sending  her  presents  of  snuff,  no  unusual  present 
to  a  lady  in  those  days, — though  it  is  pretended  that  these  gifts 


SOPHIA   DOROTHEA. 


149 


bore  a  peculiar  signification,  known  only  to  the  donor  and  the 
recipient.  They  probably  had  less  meaning  than  the  presents  for- 
warded to  her  by  her  daughter,  consisting  now  of  her  portrait, 
another  time  of  a  watch,  or  some  other  trinket,  which  served  to 
pass  a  letter  with  it,  in  which  were  filial  injunctions  to  the  poor 
mother  to  be  patient  and  resigned,  and  to  put  no  trust  in  the  Count 
de  Bar. 

The  prisoner  did  not  heed  the  counsel,  but  continued  to  confide 
in  a  man  who  was  prodigal  of  promise,  and  traitorous  of  perform- 
ance. Her  hopes  were  fixed  upon  escaping,  but  they  were  foiled 
by  the  watchfulness  of  noble  spies,  who  exultingly  told  her  that 
her  husband  was  a  king.  And  it  is  asserted  that  she  might  have 
been  a  recognized  queen  if  she  would  but  have  confessed  that  she 
had  failed  in  obedience  towards  her  husband.  It  is  certain  that  a 
renewed,  but  it  may  not  have  been  an  honest,  attempt  at  recon- 
ciliation was  made  just  previous  to  the  accession  of  George  I.,  but 
the  old  reply  fell  from  the  prisoner's  hps  : — "  If  I  am  guilty,  I  am 
not  worthy  of  him  ;  if  1  am  innocent,  he  is  not  worthy  of  me." 

I  have  alreiuly  noticed  the  death  of  the  Electress  Sophia,  and 
the  causes  of  that  death, — in  1714.  It  was  followed  very  shortly 
after  by  the  demise  of  Queen  Anne.  This  event  had  taken  all 
parties  somewhat  by  surprise.  They  stood  face  to  face,  as  it  were, 
over  the  dying  queen.  The  Jacobites  were  longing  for  her  to 
name  her  brother  as  her  successor,  whom  they  would  have  pro- 
claimed at  once  at  the  head  of  the  army.  The  Hanoverian  party 
were  feverish  with  fears  and  anticipations,  but  they  had  the 
regency  dressed  up,  and  ready  in  the  back  ground ;  and  Secretary 
Craggs,  booted  and  spurred,  was  making  such  haste  as  could  then 
be  made,  on  his  road  to  Hanover,  to  summon  King  George.  The 
Jacobite  portion  of  the  cabinet  was  individually  bold  in  resolving 
what  ought  to  be  done,  but  they  were,  bodily,  afraid  of  the 
responsibility  of  doing  it.  Each  man  of  each  faction  had  his 
king's  name  ready  upon  his  lips,  awaiting  only  that  the  lethargy  of 
the  queen  should  be  succeeded  by  irretrievable  death,  to  give  it 
joyful  utterance.  Anne  died  on  the  first  of  August,  1714;  the 
Jacobites  drew  a  breath  of  hesitation ;  and  in  the  meantime,  the 
active  Whigs  instantly  proclaimed  King  George,  gave  Addison 


160 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


the  mission  of  announcing  the  demise  of  one  sovereign  to  another, 
who  was  that  sovereign's  successor,  and  left  the  Jacobites  to  their 
vexation,  and  their  threatened  redress. 

Lord  Berkley  was  sent  with  the  fleet  to  Orange  Polder,  in 
Holland,  there  to  bring  over  the  new  king,  but  Craggs  had  not 
only  taken  a  very  long  time  to  carry  his  invitation  to  the  monarch, 
but  the  husband  of  Sophia,  when  he  received  it,  showed  no  hot 
haste   to  take  advantage  thereof.     The  Earl  of  Dorset  was  de- 
spatched over  to  press  his  immediate  coming,  on  the  ground  of  the 
affectionate  impatience  of  his  new  subjects.     The  king  was  no 
more  moved  thereby  than  he  was  by  the  first  announcement  of 
Lord  Clarendon,  the  English  ambassador,  at   Hanover.     On  the 
night  of  the  5th  of  August,  that  envoy  had  received  an  express, 
announcing  the  demise  of  the  Queen.    At  two  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing he  hastened  with  what  he  supposed  the  joyful  intelligence  to 
Hermhausen,  and  caused  George   Louis  to  be  aroused,  that  he 
might  be  the  first  to  salute  him  as  king.  The  new  monarcli  yawned, 
expressed  himself  vexed,  and  went  to  sleep  again  as  cahnly  as 
any  serene  highness.     In  the  morning,  some  one  delicately  hinted, 
as  if  to  encourage  the  husband  of  Sophia  Dorothea  in  staying 
where   he   was,  that   the   presbyterian   party  in  England  was  a 
dangerous  regicidal  party.     "  Not  so,"  said  George,  who  seemed 
to  be  satisfied  that  there  was  no  peril  in  the  new  greatness ;  "  Not 
so ;  I  have  nothing  to  fear  from  the  king-killers ;  they  are  all  on 
my  side."     But  still  he  tarried ;  one  day  decreeing  the  abolition 
of  the  excise,  the  next  ordering,  like  King  Arthur  in  Fielding's 
tragedy,   all   the    insolvent   debtors  to  be  released  from  prison. 
While  thus  engaged,  London  was  busy  with  various  pleasant  occu- 
pations.    On  the  3d  of  August,  the  late  queen  was  opened  ;  and 
on  the  following  day  her  bowels  were  buried,  with  as  much  cere- 
mony as  they  deserved,  in  AVestminster  Abbey.     The  day  subse- 
quent to  this  ceremony,  the  Duke  of  Marlborough,  who  had  been 
in  voluntary  exile  abroad,  and  whose  office  in  command  of  the 
imperial  armies  had  been  held  for  a  short  time,  and  not  discre- 
ditably, by  George  Louis,  made  a  triumphant  entry  into  London. 
The  triumph,  however,  was  marred  by  the  sudden  breaking  down 
of  his  coach  at  Temple-Bar, — an  accident  omnious  of  his  not  again 


SOPHIA  DOROTHEA. 


151 


rising  to  power.     The  Lords  and  Commons  then  sent  renewed 
assurances  of  loyalty  to  Hanover,  and  renewed  prayers  that  the 
lord  there  would   doff  his  electoral  cap,  and  come  and  try  his 
kingly  crown.     To  quicken  this,  the  lower  house,  on  the  10th, 
voted  him  the  same  revenues  the  late  queen  had  enjoyed, — ex- 
cepting those  arising  from  the  Duchy  of  Cornwall,  which  were,  by 
law,  invested   in   the    Prince   of  Wales.     On  the  13th,    Craggs 
arrived  in  town  to  herald  the  king's  coming;  and  on  the  14th,  the 
Hanoverian  party  were  delighted  to  hear  that  on  the  Pretender 
repairing   from    Louvain   to  Versailles,  to  implore   of  Louis  to 
acknowledge   him   publicly   as   king,  the   French   monarch   had 
pleaded,  in  bar,  his  engagements  with  the   House  of  Hanover ; 
and  that  thereon  the  Pretender  had  returned  dispirited  to  Lou- 
vain.    On  the   24th  of  the  month,  the  late  queen's  body  was 
privately  buried  in  Westminster  Abbey,  by  order  of  her  successor, 
who  appeared  to  have  a  dread  of  finding  the  old  lady  of  his  young 
love  yet  upon  the  earth.     This  order  was  followed  by  another, 
which  ejected  from  their  places  many  officials  who  had  hoped  to 
retain  them, — and  chief  of  these  was  Bolingbroke.     London  then 
became  excited  at  hearing  that  the  king  had  arrived  at  the  Plague 
on  the  oth  of  September.     It  was  calculated  that  the  nearer  he 
got  to  his  kingdom,  the    more  accelerated  would  be  his  speed ; 
but  George  was  not  to  be  hurried.     Madame  Kielmansegge,  who 
shared  what  was  called  his  regard,  with  Mademoiselle  von  Schu- 
lemberg,  had  been  retarded  in  her  departure  from   Hanover  by 
the  heaviness  of  her  debts.     The  daughter  of  the  Countess  von 
Platen   would   not   have   been  worthy  of  her  mother,  had  she 
suffered   herself  to   be   long   detained   by   such   a   trifle.      She, 
accordingly,  gave  her  creditors  the  slip,  set  off  to   Holland,  and 
was  received  with  a  heavy  sort  of  delight,  by  the  king.     The 
exemplary  couple  tarried  alone  a  week  at  the  Hague  ;  and  on  the 
1  Oth  December,  George  and  his  retinue  set  sail  for  England.    Be- 
tween that  day  and  the  day  of  his  arrival  at  Greenwich,  the  heads 
of  the  Regency  were  busy  in  issuing  decrees : — now  it  was  for 
the  prohibition   of  fireworks  on  the  day  of  his  majesty's  entry; 
next  against  the  admission  of  unprivileged  carriages  into  Green- 
wich Park  on  the  king's  arrival ;  and,  lastly,  one  promising  one 


152 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS    OF  ENGLAND. 


hundred  thousand  pounds  to  any  loyal  subject  who  might  be  lucky 
enough  to  catch  the  Pretender  in  England,  and  who  would  bring 
him  a  prisoner  to  London. 

On  the  18th  of  September,  the  king  landed  at  Greenwich  ;  and 
on  the  two  following  days,  while  he  sojourned  there,  he  wa3 
waited  on  by  various  officials,  who  went  smiUng  to  the  foot  of  the 
throne,  and  came  away  frowning  at  the  scurvy  treatment  they 
received  there.  They  who  thought  themselves  the  most  secure 
endured  the  most  disgraceful  ftills,  especially  the  Duke  of  Or- 
mond,  who,  as  captain-general,  had  been  three  parts  inclined  to 
proclaim  the  Pretender.  He  repaired  in  gorgeous  array  to  do 
homage  to  King  George ;  but  the  king  would  only  receive  his 
staff  of  office,  and  would  not  see  the  ex-bearer  of  it ;  who  returned 
home  whh  one  dignity  the  less,  and  for  George  one  enemy  the 
more. 

The  public  entry  into  London  on  the  20th  was  splendid,  and  so 
was  the  court  holden  at  St.  James's  op  the  following  day.  A 
lively  incident,  however,  marked  the  proceedings  of  this  first  court. 
Colonel  Chudleigh,  in  the  crowd,  branded  Mr.  Allworth,  M.P.  for 
New  Windsor,  as  a  Jacobite ;  whereupon  they  both  left  the  palace, 
went  in  a  coach  to  Marylebone-fields,  and  fought  there  a  duel,  in 
Avhich  ^Ir.  Allworth  was  killed  on  the  spot.  It  was  the  first  liba- 
tion of  blo©d  offered  to  the  king. 

Were  it  not  that  we  know  how  much  more  intensely  the  poets 
love  the  Muses  than  they  care  for  Truth,  we  might  be  puzzled  in 
our  endeavors  to  reconcile  the  rhyming  records  of  England's  wel- 
come to  George  I.  with  the  narrations  given  in  simple  prose  by 
eye-witnesses  of  the  incidents  wliich  they  narrate. 

No  poet  deplored — that  is,  no  poet  affected  to  deplore — the  de- 
cease of  Anne,  with  such  profundity  of  jingling  grief,  as  Young. 
He  had  not  then  achieved  a  name,  and  he  was  eagerly  desirous  to 
build  up  a  fortune.  His  threnodiu  on  the  death  of  Queen  Anne  is 
a  fine  piece  of  measured  maudlm ;  but  the  author  appears  to  have 
bethought  himself,  ere  he  had  expended  half  his  stock  of  sorrows, 
that  there  would  be  more  profit  in  welcoming  a  living  than  bewail- 
ing a  defunct  monarch.  Accordingly,  wiping  up  his  tears,  and 
arraying  his  face  in  the  blandest  of  smiles,  he  thus  falls  to  the  dou- 


L 


SOPHIA  DOROTHEA. 


153 


ble  task  of  recording  the  reception  of  George,  and  registering  his 
merits.  He  first,  however,  apologetically  states,  as  his  warmnt  for 
turning  from  weeping  for  Anne  to  cheering  for  George,  that  all 
the  sorrow  in  the  world  cannot  reverse  doom,  that  groans  cannot 
*'  unlock  th*  inexorable  tomb ;"  that  a  fond  indulgence  of  woe  is  sad 
folly,  for,  from  such  a  course,  he  exclaims,  with  a  fine  eye  to  a 
poet's  profit, — 

What  fruit  can  rise  or  what  advantage  flow  ! 

So,  turning  his  back  from  the  tomb  of  Anne  to  the  throne  of 
George,  he  grandiosely  waves  his  hat,  and  thus  he  sings : — 

Welcome  great  stranger  to  Britannia's  throne  ! 
Nor  let  thy  country  think  thee  all  her  own. 
Of  thy  delay  how  oft  did  we  complain  ! 
Our  hope  rcach'd  out  and  met  thee  on  the  main. 
With  pray'r  we  smooth  the  billows  for  thy  feet, 
With  ardent  wishes  fill  thy  swelling  sheet; 
And  when  thy  foot  took  place  on  Albion's  shore. 
We,  bending,  hlexs'd  the  Gods  and  ask'd  no  more  ! 
What  hand  but  thine  should  conquer  and  compose, 
Join  those  whom  interest  joins,  and  chase  our  foes. 
Repel  the  daring  youth's  presumptuous  aim, 
And  by  his  rival's  greatness  give  him  fame  1 
Now,  in  some  foreign  court  he  may  sit  down, 
And  quit  without  a  blush  the  British  crown ; 
Secure  his  honor,  though  he  lose  his  store. 
And  take  a  lucky  moment  to  be  poor. 

This  sneer  at  the  Pretender  is  as  contemptible  as  the  flattery 
of  George  is  gross;  and  the  picture  of  an  entire  nation  on  its 
knees,  blessing  Olympus,  and  bidding  the  gods  to  restrain  all  fur- 
ther gifts,  is  as  magnificent  a  mixture  of  bombast  and  blasphemy 
as  ever  was  made  up  by  venal  poet.     But  here  is  more  of  it ; — 

Nor  think,  great  sir,  now  first  at  this  late  hour, 
In  Britain's  favor  you  exert  your  power. 
To  us,  far  back  in  time,  I  joy  to  trace 
The  numerous  tokens  of  your  princely  grace ; 
Whether  you  chose  to  thunder  on  the  Rhine, 
Inspire  grave  councils,  or  in  courts  to  shine, 

7* 


154      LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 

In  the  more  scenes  your  genius  was  displayed, 
The  greater  debt  was  on  Britannia  laid  ; 
They  all  conspir'd  this  mighty  man  to  raise, 
And  your  new  subjects-  proudly  share  the  praise. 

Such  is  the  record  of  a  rh^-mer;  TValpole,  in  plain  and  truthful 

prose,  tells  a  very  different  story.    He  informs  us  that  the  London 

mob— no  Jacobites,  be  it  remembered,  but,  to  paraphrase  Nell 

Gwynne's  celebrated  phrase,  «  a  good  Protestant  mob,"  were  highly 

diverted  at  the  importation  by  the  king  of  his  uncommon  semcrUo 

of  ugly  women.     "  They  were  food,"  he  says,  *•  for  all  the  venom 

of  the  Jacobites,"  and  so  far  from  Britain  thanking  him  for  coming 

himself,  or  for  bringing  with   him  these  numerous  tokens  of  his 

princely  grace,  ''  nothing  could  be  grosser  than  the  ribaldry  that 

was  vomited  out  in  lampoons,  libels,  and  every  channel  of  abuse, 

against  the  sovereign  and  the  new  court,  and  chanted  even  in  their 

hearing  about  the  public  streets." 

As  for  the  great  balance  of  debt  which  Young  struck  against 
poor  Britannia  for  the  outlay  of  genius  on  the  part  of  George,  the 
creditor  did  not  fail  to  exact  payment,  with  a  lar^e  amount  oi'  com- 
pound interest,  both  out  of  the  national  purse^aud  the  national 
peerage.     Mademoiselle  von  Schulemberg  was  created  Duchess 
of  Kendal.     "  The  younger  Mademoiselle  von  Schulemberg,  who 
came  over  with  her,  and  was  created   Countess  of  Walsin^'-ham 
passed  for  her  niece,  but  was  so  like  the  king,  that  it  is  not°very 
credible  that  the  Duchess,  who  had  affected  to  pass  for  cruel,  had 
waited   for   the    left-handed   marriage."     Lady    Walsingham,   as 
before  said,  wiis  afterwards  married  to  the  celebrated  Philip  Stan- 
hope, Earl  of  Chesterfield. 

To  the  Duchess  of  Kendal,— George,  who  was  so  shocked  at 
the  mfidelity  of  which  his  wife  was  aUeged  to  be  guilty,  was  to  the 
mistress  as  inconstant  as  to  the  wife  he  had  been  untrue.  He  .et 
aside  the  former,  to  put  in  her  place  Madame  Kielman<c-^e 
called,  like  her  mother,  Countess  von  Platen.  On  the  death  ofTer 
husband,  m  1721,  he  raised  her  to  the  rank  of  Countess  of  Lein- 
ster  m  Ireland,  Countess  of  Darlington  and  Baroness  of  Brentford 
in  England.  Coxe  says  of  her,  that  her  power  over  the  kino,  was 
not  equal  to  that  of  the  Duchess  of  Kendal,  but  her  characte"   for 


I 


K 


.SOPHIA   DOROTHEA. 


155 


rapacity  was  not  inferior.     Horace  Walpole  has  graphically  por- 
trayed Lady  Darlington  in  the  following  passage  : 

'*  Lady  Darlington,  whom  I  saw  at  my  mother's  in  my  enfancy, 
and  whom  I  remember  by  being  terrified  at  her  enormous  figure, 
was  as  corpulent  and  ample  as  the  duchess  was  long  and  emaci- 
ated. The  fierce  black  eyes,  large,  and  rolling  beneath  two  lofty 
arched  eyebrows,  two  acres  of  cheeks  spread  with  crimson,  an 
ocean  of  neck  that  overflowed,  and  was  not  distinguished  from,  the 
lower  part  of  her  body,  and  no  part  restrained  by  stays — no  won- 
der that  a  cliild  dreaded  such  an  octcss." 

But  Parnassus  itself  was  far  from  being  unanimous  in  w^elcom- 
ing  the  first  king  of  the  House  of  Brunswick.  The  Jacobite  lyr- 
ists mounted  Pegasus,  and  made  him  kick  rather  menacingly 
against  the  Hanoverian  succession.  The  Hanover  poets,  indeed 
were  the  first  in  the  field.  Thus,  Anne  died  on  the  1st  of  August, 
1714,  and  six  days  afterwards  the  violent  Whig  "Flying  Post" 
suppressed  its  columns  of  intelligence  in  order  to  make  room  for 
piles  of  political  poetry.  Among  the  rest  was  "  A  Hanover  Gar- 
land,** in  which  the  following  flower  of  poetry  was  wreathed  : 

Keep  out,  keep  out  H(anover)'s  line, 
'Tis  only  J(anie)s  has  right  divine. 
So  Romish  parsons  cant  and  whine, 

And  sure  we  must  believe  them. 
But  if  their  prince  can't  come  in  peace 
Their  stock  will  every  day  decrease. 
And  they  will  ne'er  see  Perkin's  face. 

So  their  false  hopes  deceive  them. 

Against  these  tilters  the  first  Tory  poet  who  appeared  in  the 
field  was  Ned  Ward,  the  publican,  who  took  advantage  of  the  pub- 
lic return  of  the  Duke  of  Marlborough  from  his  voluntary  exile,  to 
ridicule  the  circumstance,  and  the  parties  engaged  in  the  proces- 
sion, as  seditious  and  republican  in  character.  Ned  satirized  the 
**  Low-church  elders,"  and  added,  against  the  Whig  mercantile 
community  :— 

Kext  these  who,  like  to  blazing  stars, 

Portend  domestic  feuds  and  wars. 

Came  managers  and  bank-directors, 

King-killers,  monarchy  electors, 

And  votaries  for  lord-protectors  ; 


156       LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 

That,  had  old  subtle  Satan  spread 
His  net  o'er  all  the  cavalcade, 
He  might  at  one  surprising  pull 

Have  fiird  his  lovecr  dominion  full 

Of  atheists,  rebels,  Whigs,  and  traitors, 
Reforming  knaves  and  regulators  ; 
And  eased  at  once  this  land  of  more 
And  greater  plagues  than  Egypt  bore. 

The  mob  had  a  strong  Tory  leaven  at  this  time,  and  amon-  tlie 
muhitude  circulated  a  mass  of  broadsides  and  bidlads,  of  so  openly 
a  seditious  character,  that  the  power  of  the  law  was  stringently 
applied  to  suppress  the  evil.     Before  the  year  was  out,  half  the 
provincial  to^vns  in  England  were  infected  with  seditious  senti- 
ments  against  the  Whig  government,  which  had  brought  in  a  kin^r 
whose  way  of  life  was  a  scandal  to  them.     This  feeling  of  con° 
tempt  for  both  king  and  government,  was  wide  as  well  as  deep 
and  it  was  so  craftily  made  use  of  by  the  leaders  of  public  opinion! 
that  before  George  had  been  three  months  upon  the  throne  the 
"  High-church  rabble,"  as  the  Tory  party  was  called,  in  various 
country  towns,  were  violent  in  their  proceedhigs  against  the  rroy. 
ernment ;  and  at  Axminster,  in  Devonshire,  shouted  for  the  Pre 
tender,  and  drank  his  health  as  King  of  England.     The  conduct 
of  George  to  his  wife,  Sophia  Dorothea,  was  as  satirically  dealt 
w'lth,  m  the  way  of  censure,  as  any  of  his  delinquencies,  and  his 
character  as  a  husband  was  not  forgotten  in  the  yearly  tumults  of 
his  time,  which  broke  out  on  every  recurring  anniversary  of  Queen 
Anne's  birth-day  (the  23d  of  April,)  to  the  end  of  his  rei-n 

If  the  new  king  was  dissatisfied  with  his  new  subjects,°he  hked 
as  httle  the  manners  of  England.  "This  is  a  strange  country" 
said  his  majesty ;  "  the  first  morning  after  my  arrival  at  St.  James' 
I  looked  out  of  the  window,  and  saw  a  park,  with  walks,  a  canal' 
and  so  forth,  which  they  told  me  were  mine.  The  next  day  Lord 
Chetwynd,  the  ranger  of  m^  park,  sent  me  a  fine  brace  of  carp  out 
of  .,y  canal,  and  I  was  told  that  I  must  give  five  guineas  to  Lord 
Chetwynd  s  servant,  for  bringing  me  ;.y  own  carp,  out  of  m,  o^cn 
canal,  in  mij  own  park  !"  y  "**/• 

'J^he  monarch's  mistresses  as  much  loved  to  receive  money  a.s 


SOPHIA   DOROTHEA. 


157 


I 


the  king  Limself  loved  little  to  part  from  it.  The  Duchess  of  Ken- 
dals  r^paouy  has  been  mentioned ;  one  instance  of  it  is  mentioned 
by  Coxe  on  he  authority  of  Sir  Robert  Walpole,  to  the  effect  that 
"the  restoration  of  Lord  Bolingbroke  was  the  work  of  the  DuchS 

pomid.,  and  obtained  a  promise  to  use  her  influence  over  the  kin.. 
tor  lie  purpose  of  forwaiding  his  complete  restoration.'  Honied 
ANalpole  states  that  the  duchess  was  no  friend  of  Sir  Robert,  and 
wished  to  make  Lord  Bolingbroke  minister  in  his  room  The"^ 
pacious  mistress  wa-s  jealous  of  Sir  Koberfs  credit  with  the  mon- 
ad,.    Wonarch  and  minister  transacted  business  throu-h  the  me 

.!oli?     f     ;   '  f:"  ""  '""""■^  «*-''"''^""'"  °f  England,  knowing. 

sajs  the  lively  writer  of  the  reminiscences  of  the  courts  of  the  fir^t 
two  Georges,  « .,.at  Sir  Robert,  detecting  one  of  the  Hanoverian 
ni,i,i»,er»  in  some  trick  or  falsehood  before  the  king's  face,  had  the 
firmness  to  say  to  the  German,  '  JUenlHs  impude.Uusime ! '  The 
good-humored  monarch  only  laughed,  as  he  often  did  when  Sir 
Kober    complained  to  him  of  his  Hanoverians  selling  place"  nor 

cou.t.  The  smgulanty  of  this  complaint  is,  that  it  was  mad!  by 
a  minister  who  was  notorious  for  complacently  saying  that  "  Every 
man  m  the  House  of  Commons  had  his  price  "  '    ^^ery 

bled  ^.'''"t.'^"^'"'';  "1!^'^  ''''""'•^  ^^  '"^'^-^  '»  ^'^^  ^  untrou- 
bled life.     The  parade  of  royalty  was  abhorrent  to  him,  solely  on 

.1^  same  account.     To  the  theatre  he  went  in  no  state    "  nor  M 

he  su  ,„  the  stage-box,  nor  forwards,  but  behind  the  DucheTs  of 

otl^d  to  the  maids  of  honor."     This  spectacle  must  have  been 

for  the  House  of  Brunswick,  as  then  represented.  A  king  1  ving 
n  open  violation  of  God's  commandments,  coldly  eallin/on  his 
S::::^''  '^^  unelean„ess  of  his  sin,  and  a'  the  same  tim 
rentrfl  ^  T  '  '"  ''°'"  '''P""'^'  ^°'  "°  "«""  ^^^son,  appa- 
S~r'  ■■  ''"'^"  ""  --»P'''»>l«-th  his-whieh'^ 
hkelj  enough-was  surely  a  sight  to  pen.lex  those  very  gods  to 


158 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


SOPHIA   DOROTHEA. 


whom,  Young  said,  all  Britain  bent  in  humble  thankfulness  for 
such  a  blessing.  I  can  fancy  Dan  Mercury  looking  down  upon 
such  a  sight,  and  exclaiming,  as  he  saw  the  jumbling  of  triumj)hs 
for  the  unrighteous,  oppression  for  the  innocent,  and  praise  offered 
by  the  vain  to  the  wicked,  that  in  this  lower  world,  as  Stephen 
Blackpool  has  since  remarked,  "  it  was  all  muddle  !  " 


159 


CHAPTER  Xn. 


CRO^VN    AND    GRAVE. 


"While  Sophia  Dorothea  continued  to  linger  in  her  prison,  her 
husband  and  son,  with  the  mistresses  of  the  former  and  the  wife  of 
the  latter,  were  enjoying  the  advantages  and  anxieties  which  sur- 
round a  throne.  The  wife  of  the  Prince  of  Wales,  Caroline,  ar- 
rived at  Margate  on  the  13th  of  October.  She  was  accompanied 
by  her  two  eldest  daughters,  Anne  and  Amelia.  Mother  and  chil- 
dren rested  during  one  day  in  the  town  where  they  had  landed, 
slept  one  night  at  Rochester,  and  arrived  at  St.  James's  on  the 
loth.  The  royiU  coronation  took  place  in  Westminster  Abbey  on 
the  20th  of  the  same  month.  Amid  the  pomp  of  the  occasion,  no 
one  appears  to  have  thought  of  her  who  should  have  been  queen- 
consort.  There  was  much  splendor  and  some  calamity,  for,  as  the 
procession  was  sweeping  by,  several  people  were  killed  })y  the  fall 
of  scaffolding  in  the  Palace  Yanl.  The  new  king  entered  the  Ab- 
bey amid  the  cheers  and  screams  of  an  excited  multitude. 

Three  days  after,  the  monarch,  with  the  Prince  and  Princess  of 
Wales,  dined  with  the  Lord  Mayor  and  corporation,  in  the  Guild- 
hall, London, and  there  George  peribrmed  the  first  grateful  ser\ice 
to  his  people,  by  placing  a  thousand  guineas  in  the  hands  of  the 
sheriffs,  for  the  relief  of  the  wretched  debtoi-s  then  immured  in  the 
neighboring  horrible  prisons  of  Newgate  and  the  Pleet. 

Within  a  month,  the  general  festivities  were  a  little  marred  by 
the  proclamation  of  the  pretender,  dated  from  Lorraine,  wherein 
he  laid  claim  to  the  throne  which   George  was  declared  to  Iiave 


I 
I 


usurped.  At  this  period  the  Duke  of  Lorraine  was  a  sovereign 
prince,  maintaining  an  envoy  at  our  court  ;  but  the  latter  was  or- 
dered to  withdraw  from  the  country  immediately  after  the  arrival 
of  the  "  Lon-aine  proclamation,"  by  the  French  mail.  Already 
George  I.  began  to  feel  that  on  the  throne  he  was  destmed  to  en- 
joy less  quiet  tlian  his  consort  in  her  prison. 

The  counter-proclamations  made  in  this  countr}%  chiefly  on  ac- 
count of  the  Jacobite  riots  at  Oxford  and  some  other  places,  were 
made  up  of  nonsense  and  malignity,  and  were  well  calculated  to 
make  a  good  cause  wear  the  semblance  of  a  bad  one.  They  de- 
creed, or  announced,  thanksgiving  on  the  20th  of  January,  for  the 
accession  of  the  House  of  Hanover ;  and,  to  show  what  a  portion 
of  the  people  had  to  be  tlmnkful  for,  they  ordered  a  rigorous  exe- 
cution of  the  laws  against  papists,  nonjurors,  and  dissenters  gene- 
rally,, who  were  assumed  to  be,  as  a  matter  of  course,  disaffected  to 
the  reigning  house. 

The  government  was  earnest  in  its  intentions.     Vine,  a  come- 
dian, was  prosecuted  for  a  libel  contained  in  his  "  Reasons  humbly 
offered  to  the  Parliament  for  abrogating  the  observation  of  the 
30th  of  January."     But  this  was  an  innocent  libel  enough,  com- 
pared with  others  such  as  that  of  Hornby's,  in  his  "  Advice  to  the 
Freethinkers  of  England,"  in  which  it  was  affinned  that  the  Whig 
government  would  overturn  the  constitution  in  Church  and  State, 
alter  the  law  of  limitations  in  the  })ower  of  the  crown,  establish  a 
standing  army,  crush  public  liberty,  and  "  encourage  the  people  to 
abuse  the  memory  of  good  Queen  Anne."     A  reward  of  a  thou- 
sand pounds  was  conferred  on  the  discoverer  of  the  author  of  this 
libel.     Some  of  its  assertions  appeared,  however,  to  be  justified  in 
the  king's  first  proclamation  for  the  electing  a  new  paryament.     In 
this  document  his  majesty  charged  the  late  House  of  Commons  with 
being  Jacobitical,  and  desired  his  subjects  to  elect  men  of  an  op- 
posite tendency.     His  desire  was  tolerably  well  obeyed ;  but  when 
the  king  told  the  new  parliament  that  the  public  debt  had  in- 
creased in  peace,  and  diminished  during  war, — and  when  the  com- 
mons, in  their  address,  encouraged  the  monarch  in  his  warlike  pro- 
pensities,—the  freethinkers  were  more  obstinate  than  ever  in  their 


160 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


opinion  that  liberty  was  doomed  to  die  beneath  the  heels  of  a 
standing  army. 

Not  that  much  pains  could  be  said  to  have  been  taken  by  the 
government  to  conciliate  the  army.     On  the  first  anniversary  of  the 
king^s  birth-day,  the  28th  of  May,  the  first  regiment  of  Guards, 
and  divisions  of  other  regiments,  broke  out  into  open  mutiny,  on 
the  ground  that  they  were  furnished  with  clothes  and  linen  that 
were  not  fit  to  be  worn  on  the  royal  birth-day.     The  Duke  of 
Marlborough,  who  had   succeeded  Ormond  as   Captain-General 
saUied  from  his  house  in  the  Mall,  and  made  a  speech  to  the 
soldiers  in  the  park.     But  some  of  the  men  stripped  otf  their  jack- 
ets and  shirts,  and  flung  them  over  the  wall  of  the   duke's  garden 
and  of  that  behind  St.  James's  Palace,  while  others,  hoisting  the 
Imen  garments  on  poles,  paraded  them  about  the  streeLs  excfaim- 
ing,  "  Look  at  our  Hanover  shirts !"     Reparation  was  promised 
the  army  agents  and  tradesmen  were  blamed,  and  the  men  were 
enjoined  to  burn  clothes  and  shirts  in  front  of  Whitehall,— an  order 
which  they  obeyed  with  alacrity.     Amid  it  all,  the  little  Princess 
Caroline,  youngest  daughter  of  the  Prince  and  Princess  of  Wale^ 
who  had  arrived  only  two  days  before  in  London,  took  her  first 
drive  in  public.     Her  little  highness  must  have  been  startled  at 
the  contrast  between  the  noisy  metroi)olis  and  the  quiet  city  of 
Hanover ;  the  streets  of  the  latter  all  tranquillity,  those  of  the  former 
lull  of  prostrate  Whigs,  knocked  down  by  strong-armed  Tories  for 
refusing  to  join  in  the  shout  of  -  High  Church  and  the  Duke  of 
Ormond." 

The  duke  gained  little  by  his  popularity,  for  he,  in  common  with 
Bolingbroke  and  other  lords,  were  impeached  on  the  charge  of  hi<rh 
treason.  The  far-seeing  eye  of  the  king,  however,  looked  beyond 
such  offenders  as  these ;  and  while  peers  and  commoners  were  be- 
mg  committed  to  prison,  or  were  flying  from  the  country,  a  poor 
cobbler  was  whipped  from  Holloway  to  Highgate  for  no  more 
grievous  offence  than  reflecting  upon  certain  measures  of  the 
government.  The  university  of  Oxford  was  as  free  of  thought,  act, 
and  expression  as  the  cobbler  of  Holloway.  The  attainder  of 
Ormond  deprived  him  of  his  university  chancellorship,  whereupon 
Knig  George  set  up  the  Prince  of  Wales  as  a  candidate  for  the 


SOPHIA   DOROTHEA. 


161 


! 


Z{ 


'I 


office.  Oxford,  to  show  its  contempt  for  the  new  dynasty,  rejected 
the  prince,  and  chose  Lord  Arran,  the  Duke  of  Ormond's  brother. 
The  king  was  so  vexed  that  he  wished  himself  back  again  at  Han- 
over, and  perhaps  it  was  his  vexation  which  prompted  him,  at  tliis 
very  time,  to  order  an  increase  of  rigor  to  be  inflicted  upon  his  poor 
imprisoned  wife  at  Ahlden.  Nor  did  he  spare  Oxford ;  whither  a 
detachment  of  dragoons  was  sent,  under  the  command  of  a  major, 
appropriately  named  Pepper,  who  suddenly  seized  upon  such  mem- 
bers of  the  university  as  were  suspected  of  being  more  inclined  to 
"  James  the  Eighth  of  Scotland,"  than  to  "  George  the  First  of 
England." 

Meanwhile,  less  noble  oflfenders  were  punished  with  more  sever- 
ity, and  Tyburn-tree  creaked  with  the  weight  of  men  who  had 
enlisted  soldiers  for  the  pretender.  At  this  moment,  the  Duke  of 
Somerset  gave  up  his  oflSce  of  master  of  the  horse,  and  the  husband 
of  Sophia  Dorothea  apjjointed  to  the  vacant  post,  the  German  lady, 
Mademoiselle  von  Schulemberg,  mistress  of  the  monarch  and  the 
mews  !  The  son  of  Sophia  Dorothea  also  succeeded  in  obtaining 
oflice,  and  the  rejected  of  the  University  of  Oxford  was  elected 
Chancellor  by  the  University  of  Dubhn. 

In  the  mean  tune  the  failure  of  the  rebellion  in  Scotland  had 
given  the  king  joy,  but  had  not  inspired  him  with  mercy.  Execu- 
tions were  of  daily  occurrence,  aud  when  the  president  of  the  coun- 
cil, the  Earl  of  Nottingham,  ventured  to  suggest  that  the  royal 
prerogative  of  mercy  was  the  brightest  gem  in  a  kingly  crown,  he 
was  turned  out  of  his  place,  and  all  his  kinsmen  who  were  in  office 
were  similarly  treated.  The  king,  however,  granted  their  lives  to 
several  of  the  prisoners  taken  on  the  pretender's  side,  but  neaily 
the  whole  of  them  perished  in  prison,  through  the  severity  of  the 
season  and  the  want  of  the  necessai-ies  of  life. 

The  first  year  of  the  accession  of  George  was  certainly  not  an 
untroubled  one,  and  he,  probably  with  all  his  grandeur,  was  less 
happy  than  the  wife  whom  he  held  in  such  rigorous  captivity.  The 
very  heavens  themselves  seemed  to  tlireaten  him,  and  we  are 
expressly  told  in  the  journals  of  the  time,  that  the  year  ended  with 
dire  phenomena  in  the  sky,  columns  and  pillars  of  continually 
flashing  light,  carrying  terror  into  the  minds  of  all  beholders,  who. 


162 


LIVES  OP  THE  QUEENS   OP  ENGLAND. 


liicking  simple  knowledge,  deemed  that  the  heavens  were  not  less 
out  of  johit  than  the  earth. 

In  the  following  year,  the  government  exhibited  little  sense  in 
the  application  of  their  power.     The  wearing  of  oak-boughs  on  the 
29th  of  May,  in  memory  of  the  restoration,  was  deemed  an  insult 
to  the  government :  two  soldiers  were  whipped  (almost  to  death) 
in  Hyde  Park,  for  carrying  oak-apples  in  their  caps,  and  guards 
wei-e  posted  in  the  streets  to  prevent  all  persons  from  carrying 
white  roses,  some  bearers  of  which  were,  on  refusal  to  surrender 
this  badge,  very  unceremoniously  shot  by  the  rude  soldiery.     The 
king  complacently  told  his  faithful  commons  that  all  his  money  had 
been  wasted  on  the  Jacobite  faction,  and  had  been  met  by  ingi-ati- 
tude  and  more  active  treason.     The  monarch's  favors  however 
were  but  inconsiderately  scattered ;  and  if  the  people  could  con- 
template   without   regret,  the    nomination  of  his  brother,  Ernest 
Augustus,  to  be  Duke  of  York  and  Albany,  and  P:arl  of  Ulster, 
they  were  rather  rough  of  comment  when  he  raised  INIademoiselle 
von  Schulemberg  to  the  dignities  of  Baroness  of  Dundalk,  Countess 
of  Dungannon,    Duchess   of  Munster,   and   finally,    Duchess   of 
Kendal. 

In  contrast  with  these  palace  incidents,  I  may  notice  an  inci- 
dent of  the  streets.     It  is  recorded  by  Salmon  in  the  "  Chronologi- 
cal Historian,"  under  the  date   of  July  23,  1716,  and  is  to  this 
effect : — "  The  sons    of  Whiggism,  having  Assembled  at  a  mug- 
house,  in  Salisbury  Court,  Fleet  Street,  afler  they  were  a  little 
elevated,  ventured  to  attack  some  Tories,  who  were  got  togcthtu-  in 
the  Swan  ale-house,  over  against  them ;  whereui)on  the  Tories  re- 
turned their  visit,  drove  them  to  their  head-quarters,  and  demolished 
the  bar,  wainscot,  &c.  below  stiiirs  ;  whereupon  the  mug-house  sent 
for  arms  and  assistance,  and  one  of  the  Tory  men  was  shot  dead 
upon  the  spot  by  the  master  of  the  mug-house,  which  so  provoked 
the  other  side,  that  had  not  the  guards  come  in  to  the  assistance  of 
the  mug  gentlemen,  a  severe  revenge  had  probably  been  taken." 
Although  the  Whigs  were  the  original  aggressors,  the  Tories  were 
the  most  severely  punished ;  "  five  of  them  (two  of  whom  were 
brothers)  were  convicted  of  felony,  in  not  dispersing  themselves  on 
the  reading  of  the  proclamation  at  the  late  riot,  near  the  mutr-house 


SOPHIA  DOROTHEA. 


163 


I 


I 


in  Salisbury  Court,  and  were  hanged  at  the  end  of  Salisbury  Court, 
in  Fleet  Street,  the  22d  inst."  (September.)  A  further  incident 
worth  narrating  is,  that  the  bearers  at  the  funeral  of  one  of  these 
executed  men,  were  arrested,  and  **  fined  20  marks  a-piece,"  for 
"  wearing  their  favors"  in  St.  Bride's  church-yard.  The  people 
were  indignant  at  such  oppression ;  and  when,  on  the  9th  of  No- 
vember, the  Princess  of  Wales  gave  birth  to  a  still-born  son,  the 
Tories  looked  upon  the  event  as  a  judgment,  and  even  hoped  for 
the  entire  failure  of  the  royal  line.  The  king  was  in  Hanover  at 
the  time,  when  he  invested  his  brother  the  Duke  of  York,  and 
Prince  Frederick  with  the  order  of  the  Garter.  He  even  partook 
of  the  pleasures  of  the  chase  in  the  woods  around  Ahlden ;  but 
except  ordering  a  more  stringent  rule  for  the  safe-keeping  of  his 
consort,  he  took  no  further  notice  of  Sophia  Dorothea.  He  re- 
turned to  London  on  the  18th  January,  1716-17,  and  on  that  day 
week,  hearing  that  the  episcopal  clergy  of  Scotland  continued  to 
refuse  to  pray  for  him,  he  issued  a  decree,  which  compelled  many 
to  fly  the  country,  or  otherwise  abscond.  The  English  clergy  ex- 
perienced even  harsher  treatment  for  less  offence.  I  may  mention, 
as  an  instance,  the  case  of  the  Rev.  Laurence  Howell,  who  for 
writing  a  pamphlet  called  "  The  State  of  Schism  in  the  Church  of 
England  truly  stated,"  was  stripped  of  his  gown  by  the  executioner, 
fined  500/.,  imprisoned  three  years,  and  twice  publicly  whipped  by 
the  hangman ! 

On  the  2nd  of  November,  1717,  the  Princess  of  Wales  gave 
birth  to  a  son,  who  was  christened  by  the  name  of  George  William, 
at  St.  James's,  by  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  on  the  28th  of 
the  same  month ;  the  king  and  the  Duke  of  Newcastle  were  god- 
fathers, and  the  Duchess  of  St.  Alban's  godmother.  On  the 
following  day,  the  Prince  of  Wales,  by  order  of  his  father,  removed 
from  St.  James's,  and  went  to  reside  at  the  house  of  the  Princess's 
chamberiain,  the  Earl  of  Grantham's,  in  Ariington  Street.  The 
princess  accompanied  him,  but  their  children  remained  at  the 
palace. 

This  removal  is  connected  with  a  palace  incident  of  some  inter- 
est. The  Prince  of  Wales  had  wished  that  his  uncle,  the  Duke 
of  York,  Bishop  of  Osnaburg,  should  be,  with  the  king,  sponsor  to 


164 


LIVES  OF  THK  QUEE^'S  OF  ENGLAND. 


his  chUd.     George  I.  peremptorily  named  the  Duke  of  Newcastle 
as  co-sponsor,  and  would  hear  of  no  other.     The  duke,  then  secre- 
tary of  state,  was  hateful  to  the  prince,  whom  he  treated  with  stu. 
died  neglect ;   and  when  the  ceremony  of  christening  had  been 
brought  to  a  close  in  the  princess's  bed-chamber,  the  prince  crossed 
fix>m  the  foot  of  the  bed  where  he  had  been  standing  with  his  wife's 
maids  of  honor,  to  the  side  of  the  bed  where  the  duke  was  standing 
near  the  kmg,  and  there  holdmg  up  his  hand  and  forefinger  men- 
acmgly,  said,  in  broken  EngUsh,  "  You  are  a  rascal,  but  I  shall  find 
you,"— meaning,  "  I  shall  find  a  time  to  be  revenged."     The  kin- 
affecting  to  understand  this  as  a  challenge  to  fight,  placed  liis  son 
under  arrest ;  but  soon  releasing  him  therefrom,  turned  hun  out 
of  the  palace,  retaining  the  three  eldest  daughters,  who  resided 
with  hnn  till  his  decease. 

The  dissensions  between  George  I.  and  his  son  are  said  to  have 
arisen  long  previous  to  the  accession  of  the  former.     The  respect 
which  the  prince  once  entertained  for  his  mother  Sophia  Dorothea, 
may  have  had  much  to  do  with  the  matter,  but  politics  had  aUo 
^mething  to  do  therewith.     Before  the  Act  of  Settlement,  the 
i^Iectress  Sophia  was  a  Jacobite  in  principle ;  **  but,"  says  Walpole 
«  no  sooner  had  King  William  procured  a  settlement  of  the  crown* 
after  Queen  Anne,  on  her  electoral  highness,  than  noboily  became 
a  stauncher  Whig  than  the  Princess  Sophia,  nor  could  be  more 
impatient  to  mount  the  throne  of  the  exiled  Stuarts.     It  is  certain 
that  dunng  the  reign  of  Anne,  the  Elector  George  was  inclined  to 
the  Tones ;  though  after  his  mother's  death,  and  his  own  accession 
he  gave  himself  to  the  opposite  party.     But  if  he  and  his  mother 
espoused  different  factions,  Sophia  found  a  ready  partisan  in  her 
grandson  the  electoral  prince ;  and  it  is  true  that  the  demand  made 
by  the  prince  of  his  writ  of  summons  to  the  House  of  Lords,  as 
Duke  of  Cambridge,  which  no  wonder  was  so  offensive  to  Queen 
Anne,  was  made  in  concert  with  his  grandmother,  without  the 
privity  of  the  elector  his  father."     To  these  causes  of  oftence  may 
be  added  the  royal  sire's  jealousy,  as  is  supposed,  of  his  son.     On 
the  first  absence  of  the  king  from  England,  the  Prince  of  Wales 
was  appointed  regent,  but  he  was  never  intrusted  with  that  hic^h 
office  a  second  time.     "It  is  probable,"  says  Walpole,  "that  the 


SOPHIA  DOROTHEA. 


165 


8on  discovered  too  much  fondness  for  acting  the  king,  as  that  the 
father  conceived  a  jealousy  of  his  having  done  so.     Sure  it  is,  that 
on  the  king's  return,  great  divisions  arose  in  the  court,  and  the 
Whigs  were  divided,— some  devoting  themselves  to  the  wearer  of 
the  crown,  and  others  to  the  expectant."     So  that,  in  the  second 
year  of  his  reign,  the  king  not  only  held  his  wife  in  prison,  but  his 
son  and  heir  was  banished  from  his  presence.     He  even  went  so 
far  as  to  declare  to  the  peers  and  peeresses  of  Great  Britain  and 
Ireland,  and  to  all  privy  councillors  and  their  wives,  that  if  any  of 
them  should  go  to  the  court  of  the  Prince  and  Princess  of  Wales, 
they  should  forbear  to  come  into  his  majesty's  presence.     At  the 
same  time  that  this  example  of  family  division  was  being  given  to 
the  kingdom,  George  I.  created  Prince  Frederick,  the  eldest  son 
of  the  Prince  of  Wales,  Duke  of  Gloucester ;  and  a  day  or  two 
later,  the  little  Prince  George  William,  at  whose  christening  the 
scene  of  violence  had  occurred,  died  at  the  age  of  three  months  and 
three  days.     The  body  was   privately  interred   in  Westminster 
Abbey  on  the   12th  of  February,  the  Bishop  of  Rochester  reading 
the  funeral  service.     At  this  time  the  Prince  of  Wales  had  retired 
to  the  house  in  "  Leicester  Fields,"  which  he  had  recently  pur- 
chased.    This  house  stood  in  the  northeast  comer  of  the  square, 
and  was  originally  built  by  the  Eari  of  Leicester,  father  of  Waller's 
"  Sacharissa."     The  eari  let  it  to  persons  of  "  condition,"  after 
ceasing  to  reside  in  it  himself    There  died  the  mother  of  the  Elec- 
tress  Sophia.     It  was  subsequently,  and  successively,  occupied  by 
the  French  and  German  ambassadors,  and  it  was  thence  (when 
the  Emperor  of  Germany's  envoy  resided  there)  that  Beau  Field- 
ing procured  the  priest  who  married  him  privately,  in  Pall  Mall, 
to  Mrs.  Mary  Wadsworth. 

About  a  month  after  the  Prince  of  Wales  had  purchased  Lei- 
cester House,  he  was  neariy  called  upon  to  leave  it  again,  for  the 
palace,  by  the  attempt  at  assassination  made  by  a  lad,  named  Shep- 
herd, upon  George  L  This  was  on  the  6th  of  March,  1717.  The 
young  assassin  was  only  eighteen  years  of  age,  and  was  apprentice 
to  a  coach-painter.  He  looked  upon  the  act  as  being  so  meritori- 
ous, that  when  Lord  Chesterfield,  just  previous  to  his  execution, 
asked  what  he  would  do  if  the  king  forgave  his  attempt  to  shoot 


164 


LIVES  OF  THK  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


SOPHIA  DOROTHEA. 


165 


his  child.  George  L  peremptorily  named  the  Duke  of  Newcastle 
as  co-sponsor,  and  would  hear  of  no  other.  The  duke,  then  secre- 
tary of  state,  was  hateful  to  the  prince,  whom  he  treated  with  stu*- 
died  neglect ;  and  when  the  ceremony  of  christening  had  been 
brought  to  a  close  in  the  princess's  bed-chamber,  the  prince  crossed 
from  the  foot  of  the  bed  where  he  had  been  standing  with  his  wife's 
maids  of  honor,  to  the  side  of  the  bed  where  the  duke  was  standing 
near  the  king,  and  there  holding  up  his  hand  and  forefinger  men- 
acingly, said,  in  broken  English,  "  You  are  a  rascal,  but  I  shall  find 
you," — meaning,  "  I  shall  find  a  time  to  be  revenged."  The  king, 
affecting  to  understand  this  as  a  challenge  to  fight,  placed  his  son 
under  arrest;  but  soon  releasing  him  therefrom,  turned  him  out 
of  the  palace,  retaining  the  three  eldest  daughters,  who  resided 
\Yith  him  till  his  decease. 

The  dissensions  between  George  I.  and  his  son  are  said  to  have 
arisen  long  previous  to  the  accession  of  the  former.  The  respect 
which  the  prince  once  entertained  for  his  mother  Sophia  Dorothea, 
may  have  had  much  to  do  with  the  matter,  but  politics  had  nho 
something  to  do  therewith.  Before  the  Act  of  Settlement,  the 
Electress  Sophia  was  a  Jacoliite  in  i)rinciple  ;  "  but,"  says  Walpole, 
"no  sooner  had  Khig  AVilliam  procured  a  settlement  of  the  crown, 
after  Queen  Anne,  on  her  electoral  highness,  than  nobody  became 
a  stauncher  Whig  than  the  Princess  Sophia,  nor  could  be  more 
impatient  to  mount  the  throne  of  the  exiled  Stuarts.  It  is  certain 
that  during  the  reign  of  Anno,  the  Elector  George  was  inclined  to 
the  Tories  ;  though  after  his  mother's  death,  and  his  own  accession, 
he  gave  himself  to  the  opposite  party.  But  if  he  and  his  mother 
espoused  different  factions,  Sophia  found  a  ready  partisan  in  her 
grandson  the  electoral  prince ;  and  it  is  true  that  the  demand  made 
by  the  prince  of  his  writ  of  summons  to  the  House  of  Lords,  as 
Duke  of  Cambridge,  which  no  wonder  was  so  offensive  to  Queen 
Aime,  was  made  in  concert  with  his  grandmother,  without  the 
privity  of  the  elector  his  father."  To  these  causes  of  oflence  may 
be  added  the  royal  sire's  jealousy,  as  is  supposed,  of  his  son.  On 
the  first  absence  of  the  king  from  England,  the  Prince  of  Wales 
was  appointed  regent,  but  he  was  never  intrusted  with  that  high 
office  a  second  time.     "It  is  probable,"  says  Walpole,  "that  the 


I 

; 


1 1 


^ 


gon  discovered  too  much  fondness  for  acting  the  king,  as  that  the 
father  conceived  a  jealousy  of  his  having  done  so.  Sure  it  is,  that 
on  the  king's  return,  great  divisions  arose  in  the  court,  and  the 
Whigs  were  divided, — some  devoting  themselves  to  the  wearer  of 
the  crown,  and  others  to  the  expectant."  So  that,  in  the  second 
year  of  his  reign,  the  king  not  only  held  his  w^ife  in  prison,  but  his 
son  and  heir  was  banished  from  his  presence.  He  even  went  so 
far  as  to  declare  to  the  peers  and  peeresses  of  Great  Britain  and 
Ireland,  and  to  all  privy  councillors  and  their  wives,  that  if  any  of 
them  should  go  to  the  court  of  the  Prince  and  Princess  of  Wales, 
they  should  forbear  to  come  into  his  majesty's  presence.  At  the 
same  time  that  this  example  of  family  division  was  being  given  to 
the  kingdom,  George  I.  created  Prince  Frederick,  the  eldest  son 
of  the  Prince  of  Wales,  Duke  of  Gloucester ;  and  a  day  or  tw^o 
later,  the  little  Prince  George  William,  at  whose  christening  the 
scene  of  violence  had  occurred,  died  at  the  age  of  three  months  and 
three  days.  The  body  was  privately  interred  in  Westminster 
Abbey  on  the  12th  of  February,  the  Bishop  of  Rochester  reading 
the  funeral  service.  At  this  time  the  Prince  of  Wales  had  retired 
to  the  house  in  "  Leicester  Fields,"  which  he  had  recently  pur- 
cha<;ed.  This  house  stood  in  the  northeast  comer  of  the  square, 
and  was  originally  built  by  the  Earl  of  Leicester,  father  of  Waller's 
"  Sacharissa."  The  earl  let  it  to  persons  of  "  condition,"  after 
ceasins:  to  reside  in  it  himself.  There  died  the  mother  of  the  Elec- 
tress  Sophia.  It  was  subsequently,  and  successively,  occupied  by 
the  French  and  German  ambassadors,  and  it  w^as  thence  (when 
the  Emperor  of  Germany's  envoy  resided  there)  that  Beau  Field- 
ing procured  the  priest  who  married  him  privately,  in  Pall  Mall, 
to  ^Irs.  Mary  W^adsworth. 

About  a  month  after  the  Prince  of  Wales  had  purchased  Lei- 
cester House,  he  was  nearly  called  upon  to  leave  it  again,  for  the 
palace,  by  the  attempt  at  assassination  made  by  a  lad,  named  Shep- 
herd, upon  George  I.  This  was  on  the  6th  of  March,  1717.  The 
young  assassin  was  only  eighteen  years  of  age,  and  was  apprentice 
to  a  coach-painter.  He  looked  upon  the  act  as  being  so  meritori- 
ous, that  when  Lord  Chesterfield,  just  previous  to  his  execution, 
asked  what  he  would  do  if  the  king  forgave  his  attempt  to  shoot 


166 


LIVKS  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


SOPHIA    DOROTHEA. 


167 


him,  the  boy  replied,  "  I  would  do  it  again."  He  met  his  fate  at 
Tyburn  without  exhibiting  the  slightest  mark  of  fear ;  and  Ches- 
terfield said  of  him,  that  "  Reason  declared  him  to  be  a  Regulus, 
but  that  silly  Prejudice  was  against  it."  The  most  important  pub- 
lic affair  of  the  following  year  was  the  signing  of  the  quadruple 
alliance  treaty  between  Great  Britain,  France,  Germany,  and  Hol- 
land, whereby  these  powers  were,  among  other  obligations,  bound 
to  support  the  succession  to  the  British  crown  as  fixed  by  the 
present  law  of  the  land. 

Passing  over  the  record  of  public  events,  the  next  interesting 
fact  connected  with  the  private  life  of  the  faithless  husband  of 
Sophia  Dorothea,  was  the  marriage  of  his  daughter  Charlotte,  of 
whom  Madame  Kielmansegge  (his  younger  mistress)  was  the 
mother,  with  Lord  Viscount  Howe  (of  the  kingdom  of  Ireland). 
The  bride  was  never  publicly  acknowledged  as  the  daughter  of 
the  king,  but  the  Princess  Amelia,  daughter  of  George  II.,  **  treated 
Lady  Howe's  daughter,  *  Mistress  Howe,*  as  a  princess  of  the 
blood-royal,  and  presented  her  with  a  ring,  containing  a  small  por- 
trait of  George  I.,  with  a  crown  in  diamonds."  The  best  result 
of  this  marriage  was,  that  the  famous  Admiral  Howe  was  a  de- 
scendant of  the  contracting  parties,  and  that  was  the  only  benefit 
"which  the  country  derived  from  the  vicious  conduct  of  George  I. 
If  the  marriage  of  the  child  of  one  mistress  tended  to  mortify  the 
vanity  of  another,  as  is  said  to  have  been  the  case  with  the  Schu- 
lemberg.  King  George  found  a  way  to  pacify  her.  That  lady  waa 
already  Duchess  of  Munster,  in  Ireland,  and  the  king,  in  April, 
1719,  created  her  a  baroness,  countess,  and  duchess  of  Great  Brit- 
ain, by  the  name,  style,  and  title  of  Baroness  of  Glastonbury 
Countess  of  Feversham,  and  Duchess  of  Kendal ;  and  this  done, 
the  king  soon  after  embarked  at  Gravesend  for  Hanover.  It  was 
during  his  absence  that  a  Spanish  invasion  of  Scotland,  by  a  small 
force,  in  conjunction  with  a  body  of  Highlanders,  in  behalf  of  the 
pretender,  was  promptly  suppressed  by  General  Wightman,  to 
whom  the  whole  of  the  Spaniards,  some  three  hundred  men  only, 
surrendered  at  discretion. 

The  year  1720  saw  King  George  more  upon  the  Continent 
than  at  home,  where  indeed  universal  misery  reigned,  in  conse- 


4tf^ 


quence  of  the  bursting  of  the  great  South  Sea  bubble,  which  had 
promised  such  golden  solidity, — which  ended  in  such  disappoint- 
ment and  i-uin,  and  for  furthering  which  the  Duchess  of  Kendal 
and  her  daughter  received  bribes  of  10,000/.  each.  In  April  of 
the  following  year,  William  Augustus  was  born  at  Leicester 
House.  The  daughter  of  Sophia  Dorothea  was  his  godmother; 
her  husband  and  the  Duke  of  York  were  the  godfathers.  This 
son  of  George  Augustus  and  Caroline  of  Anspach,  Prince  and 
Princess  of  Wales,  was  afterwards  famous  as  the  Duke  of  Cum- 
berland. It  was  in  July  of  this  same  year  that  the  king  conveyed 
to  the  House  of  Commons  the  pleasant  piece  of  information  that 
the  debts  on  his  civil  list  amounted  to  more  than  half  a  million. 
He  asked  that  body  to  j)rovide  for  the  payment  of  the  same,  and 
the  obsequious  house  did  what  was  asked  of  it !  No  wonder  that 
on  the  anniversary  of  the  restoration,  seditious  oak-apples  were 
seen  in  the  citizens'  hats;  that  on  the  10th  of  June,  the  pretender's 
birth-day,  white  roses  decorated  their  button-holes ;  and  that  on 
the  23d  of  August,  Queen  Anne's  natal  day,  there  was  much  toast- 
ing of  the  memory  of  a  queen  who,  throughout  her  reign,  had  not 
cost  her  country  the  blood  and  treasure  which  that  country  paid  in 
any  single  year  for  her  successor.  It  was  scarcely  a  month  after 
the  royal  request  to  the  representatives  of  the  people  to  pay  the 
penalty  of  the  king's  extravagance,  by  advancing  above  half  a  mil- 
lion of  money,  when  he  quartered  his  mistress,  Sophia  Charlotte, 
Madame  Kielmansegge,  on  the  civil  list  of  Ireland,  and  dignified 
the  act  by  creating  her  Countess  of  Leinster! 

On  the  17tli  of  January,  1721,  the  royal  family  went  into 
mourning,  and  this  was  the  only  domestic  incident  of  the  reign  in 
which  Soi)hia  Dorothea  was  allowed  to  participate.  With  her,  the 
mourning  was  not  a  mere  foiTnality ;  it  was  not  assumed,  but  was 
a  testimony  offered,  in  sign  of  her  sorrow,  for  the  death  of  her 
mother  Eleanora,  Duchess  of  Zell.  In  an  anonymous  biography 
of  her  daughter,  the  duchess  is  said  to  have  died  on  the  24th  of 
February,  1722,  but  the  Court  of  St.  James's  went  into  mourning 
for  her  on  the  11th  of  February  of  the  preceding  year.  She  had 
seen  little  of  her  daughter  for  some  time  previous  to  her  death,  but 


168 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS   OF   ENGLAND. 


SOPHIA  DOROTHEA. 


169 


she  bequeathed  to  her  as  much  of  her  private  property  as  she  had 
power  to  dispose  of  by  will. 

Sophia  Dorothea  had  now  a  considerable  amount  of  funds  placed 
to  her  credit  in  the  bank  of  Amsteixlam.  Of  the  incidents  of  her 
captivity  nothing  whatever  is  known,  save  that  it  was  most  rigidly 
maintained.  She  was  forgotten  by  the  world,  because  unseen,  and 
they  who  kept  her  in  prison  were  as  silent  about  her  as  the  keepers 
of  the  Man  in  the  Iron  ^lask  were  about  that  mysterious  object  of 
their  solicitude.  Where  little  is  known,  there  is  little  to  be  told. 
The  captive  bore  her  restraint  with  a  patience  which  even  her 
daughter  must  have  admired ;  but  she  was  not  without  hopes  of 
escaping  from  a  thraldom  from  which,  it  was  clear,  she  could  never 
be  released  by  the  voluntary  act  of  those  who  kept  her  in  an  un- 
deserved custody.  It  is  believed  that  her  funds  at  Amsterdam 
were  intended  by  her  to  be  disposed  of  in  the  purchase  of  aid  to 
secure  her  escape ;  but  it  is  added  that  her  agents  betrayed  her, 
embezzled  her  property,  and  by  revealing  for  what  purpose  they 
were  her  agents,  brought  upon  her  a  closer  arrest  than  any  under 
which  she  had  hitherto  suffered.  Romance  has  made  some  addi- 
tions to  these  items  of  intelligence, — items,  great  portions  of  which 
rest  only  on  conjecture.  The  undoubted  fact  that  much  of  the 
property  which  she  inherited  was  to  pass  to  her  children,  rendered 
the  death  of  a  mother  a  consummation  to  be  desired  by  so  indifferent 
a  son  and  daughter  as  the  Prince  of  Wales  and  the  Queen  ot 
Prussia.  The  interest  held  by  her  husband  was  of  a  similar 
description,  and  the  fatal  consequences  that  might  follow  were  not 
unprovided  for  by  the  friends  of  the  prisoner.  "  It  is  known,"  says 
Walpole,  "that  in  Queen  Anne*s  time  there  was  much  noise  about 
French  prophets.  A  female  of  that  vocation  (for  we  know  from 
Scripture  that  the  gifl  of  prophecy  is  not  limited  to  one  gender) 
warned  George  I.  to  take  care  of  his  wife,  as  he  would  not  survive 
her  a  year.  That  oracle  was  probably  dictated  to  the  French 
Deborah  by  the  Duke  and  Duchess  of  Zell,  who  might  be  appre- 
hensive that  the  Duchess  of  Kendal  might  be  tempted  to  remove 
entirely  the  obstacle  to  her  conscientious  union  with  their  son-in- 
law.  Most  Germans  are  superstitious,  even  such  as  have  few 
other  impressions  of  religion.     George  gave  such  credit  to  the 


"f 


denunciation,  that,  on  the  eve  of  his  last  departure,  he  took  leave 
of  his  son  and  the  Princess  of  Wales  with  tears,  telling  them  he 
should  never  see  them  more.  It  was  certainly  his  own  approach- 
ing end  that  melted  him,  not  the  thought  of  quitting  for  ever  two 
persons  that  he  hated." 

But  both  parties  had  yet  a  few  years  to  live,  and  one  of  them 
some  honors  to  bestow.  It  was  alijiost  in  the  same  hour  that  George 
wrote  directions  for  the  stricter  keeping  of  his  wife,  and  signed 
the  patents  for  raising  his  mistress  in  the  peerage.  On  the  same 
day,  "  Sophia  Charlotte  von  Platen,  Countess  of  Leinster,  in  Ire- 
land," was  raised  to  the  rank  of  Baroness  of  Brentford,  and 
Countess  of  Darlinj^ton,  in  England ;  and  the  king's  illegitimate 
daughter,  Melusinji  de  Schulemberg,  niece  (as  the  patent  lyingly 
declared)  of  the  Duchess  of  Kendal,  was  created  Baroness  of  Ald- 
borouffh  and  Countess  of  Walsinjijham.  This  was  on  the  10th  of 
April,  1722.  That  day  week  the  Prince  of  Wales  made  a  better 
trial  upon  the  admiration  of  the  public,  by  having  his  two 
daughters,  Amelia  and  Caroline,  inoculated  for  the  small-pox ;  a 
trial  which  ended  favorably,  as  it  deserved  to  do.  "  The  quality," 
says  the  i)apers  of  the  day,  *'  would  have  universally  followed  this 
exanqile,  but  for  the  death  of  the  infant  son  of  the  Earl  of  Sunder- 
land, who  died  of  small-pox  after  inoculation."  The  family  of  the 
Prince  of  Wales  was  increased,  in  the  year  1722,  by  the  birth  of 
a  daughter — Mary. 

The  last  foreign  favorite  of  George  I.,  Sophia  Charlotte  von 
Platen,  Countess  of  Darlington,  did  not  long  enjoy  the  new  honors 
conferred  upon  her  by  the  king ;  she  died  in  the  month  of  April, 
1724.  This  death  was  followed  soon  after  by  that  of  the  king's 
brother,  Maximilian  William,  a  colonel  in  the  service  of  the 
emperor.  He  was  a  rigid  Roman  Catholic,  as  were  others  of  his 
family ;  and,  at  the  time  of  his  death,  which  occurred  at  Vienna, 
he  was  in  the  sixtieth  year  of  his  age.  On  the  2nd  of  November, 
1726,  a  death,  which  should  have  more  nearly  touched  the  king, 
took  place  in  Germany.  On  the  day  named,  in  the  Castle  of 
Ahlden,  calmly,  and  almost  unobservedly,  died  the  poor  princess, 
"  Queen  of  Great  Britain,"  as  those  who  loved  her  were  wont  to 
call  her, — after  a  captivity  of  more  than  thirty  years.     She  liad 

8 


# 


170 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


SOPHIA  DOROTHEA. 


171 


been  long  in  declining  health,  born  of  declining  hopes ;  and  yet 
she  endured  all  things  with  patience,  contenting  herself  in  her  last 
moments  with  reasserting  her  innocence,  commending  herself  to 
God,  naming  her  children,  and  pardoning  her  oj)pressors.  Thus 
much  is  generally  known  ;  but  there  is  little  further  reliable  infor- 
mation. She  was  a  prisoner,  and  she  died:  fuid  such  is  the 
amount  of  what  is  really  hnown  concerning  her,  after  she  was 
cloistered  up  within  the  limits  of  the  castle  and  estate  at  Ahlden. 
Her  royal  husband  simply  notified  in  the  Gazette,  that  a  Duchess 
of  Ahlden  had  died  at  her  residence,  on  the  date  above  named ; 
but  he  did  not  add  that  he  had  thereby  lost  a  wife,  or  his  children 
lost  a  mother.  No  intimation  was  given  of  the  relationship  she 
held  towards  him  or  them ;  but  his  ire  burst  forth  into  an  explosion 
of  rage,  when  he  heard  that  his  daughter,  with  the  court  of 
Prussia,  had  gone  into  mourning  for  the  death  of  her  mother.  The 
amiable  father  and  king,  having  thus  exhibited  the  character  of 
his  own  feeling,  proceeded  to  manifest  that  of  his  very  bad  taste. 
It  was  shortly  after  the  demise  of  his  consort,  not  that  he  had 
icaited  for  the  event,  that  lie  raised  to  the  infamy  of  being  his 
"  favorite "  an  English  woman,  named  Ann  Brett,  half-sister  of 
Savage  the  poet, — their  common  mother,  the  repudiated  wife  of 
the  Earl  of  Macclesfield,  having  married  that  rakish  gentleman 
Colonel  Brett,  by  whom  she  became  the  mother  of  Ann,  in  whom 
the  foreign  sojereign  of  England  paid  the  nation  the  compliment 
as  Walpole  satirically  says,  of  taking  openly  an  English  mistress. 
Miss  Brett,  unlike  the  other  royal  concubines,  resided  in  St. 
James's  Palace.  "Abishag,"  says  Walpole,  ''was  lodged  in  the 
palace  under  the  eyes  of  Bathsheba,  who  seemed  to  maintain  her 
power,  as  other  favorite  sultanas  have  done,  by  suHering  partners 
in  the  sovereign's  affections."  George  intended  to  have  honored 
her,  and  dishonored  the  peerage,  by  raising  her  to  the  rank  of  a 
countess.  Three  of  the  grand-daughters  of  the  king  also  resided 
in  the  palace,  and  "  Anne,  the  eldest,  a  woman,"  says  Mr.  Cun- 
ningham, "  of  a  most  imperious  and  ambitious  nature,  soon  came 
to  words  with  the  English  mistress  of  her  grandfather."  After 
the  king  repaired,  for  the  last  time,  to  Hanover,  Miss  Brett 
ordered  a  door  to  be  broken  in  the  wall  of  her  apartment,  in  order 


that  she  might  have  access  by  it  to  the  royal  gardens.  In  these 
gardens  the  Princess  Anne  was  accustomed  to  walk,  and  not 
desiring  Miss  Brett  for  a  companion,  she  ordered  the  door  to  be 
bricked  up.  "Abishag"  had  the  obstruction  removed,  and  the 
Princess  again  bricked  up  the  concubine ;  and  thus  went  on  the 
war  between  them,  until  news  of  the  death  of  the  unworthy  grand- 
father of  the  one,  and  the  wretched  old  lover  of  the  other,  put  an 
end  to  the  conflict,  and  to  many  other  matters  besides. 

Not  long  before  his  majesty  set   out  on   his   last   continental 
journey,  his  bronze  statue,  erected  in  Grosvenor-square,  was,  on 
one  dark  night,  treated   with   great   indignity.     Its  limbs   were 
hacked  and  mutilated,  the  neck  was  hewn  into,  as  if  an  attempt 
had  been  made  to  decapitate  it,  and  a  seditious  libel  affixed  to  the 
breast.     With  this  type  of  the  national  feeling  impressed  upon  his 
mind,  the  king  set  out  for  Hanover  on  the  3rd  of  June,  1727.     On 
the  night  of  that  day  week  he  died  at  Osnaburgh,  aged  sixty- 
seven  years  and  thirteen  days.     The  king  had  landed  at  Vaer,  in 
Holland,  on  the  7th,  and  he  travelled  thence  to  Utrecht,  by  land, 
escorted  by  the  Guards  to  the  frontiers  of  Holland.     On  Friday, 
the  9th,   he   reached  Dalden,  at  twelve  at  night,  when    he  w^as 
apparently  in  exellent  health.     He  partook  of  supper  largely,  and 
with  api)etite,  eating,  among  other  things,  part  of  a  melon,  a  fruit 
that  hius  killed  more  than  one  emperor  of  Germany.     At  three 
the    next    morning    he    resumed   his  journey ;    but   he    had   not 
travelled  two  hours  when  he  was  attacked  by  violent  abdominal 
pains.     He  hurried  on  to  Linden,  where  dinner  awaited  him ;  but 
being  able  to  eat  nothing,  he  was  immediately  bled,  and  other 
remedies  made  use  of.     Anxious   to  reach   Hanover,  he  ordered 
the  journey  to  be  contiimed  with  all  speed.  He  fell  into  a  lethargic 
doze  in  the  carriage,  and  so  continued,  leaning  on  a  gentleman  in 
waiting,  who  was  with  him  in  the  carriage.     To  this  attendant  he 
feebly  announced  in  French,  "  I  am  a  dead  man."     He  reached 
the  episcopal  palace  at  Osnaburgh  at  ten  that  night ;  he  was  again 
bled   in  the  arm    and  foot ;    but  ineffectually :    his  lethargy  in- 
creased, and  he  died  about  midnight. 

A  well-known  story  is  told  by  Walpole,  to  the  effect  that  George, 
''  in  a  tender  mood,  promised  to  the  Duchess  of  Kendal,  that  if  she 


172 


LIVES   OF  THE    QUEENS   OF  ENGLAND. 


survived  him,  and  it  were  possible  for  the  departed  to  return  to 
this  world,  he  would  make  her  a  visit.  The  duchess,  on  his  death 
so  much  expected  the  accomplishment  of  that  engagement,  that  a 
large  raven,  or  some  black  fowl,  flying  into  the  windows  of  her 
villa,  at  Islewoith"  (Twickenham?),  ''she  was  persuaded  it  was 
the  soul  of  her  departed  monarch  so  accoutred,  and  received  and 
treated  it  with  all  the  respect  and  tenderness  of  duty,  till  this  royal 
bird  or  she  took  their  last  flight." 


CHAPTER  XIIL 

BERENGARIA   AXD     SOPHIA   DOROTHEA  ;~C(EUR    DE    LION,    AND 

GEORGE    OF   HANOVER. 

I  HAVE  already  remarked,  that  of  all  the  queens  of  En<rland 
there  were  two  who  never  landed  on  the  shores  of  the  country  of 
which  they  were  nominally  the  queens.  Those  two  were  Beren- 
gana,  the  consort  of  Cccur  de  Lion,  and  Sophia  Dorothea,  wife  of 
George  of  Hanover.  Nor  were  these  the  only  circumstances  in 
the  lives  of  the  two  princesses  which  were  similar :  there  were 
many  other  passages  between  which  a  parallel  may  be  drawn,  and 
which  may  be  appi-opriately  brought  before  the  notice  of,  at  least 
younger  readers.  ' 

Berengaria,  the  Navarrese  princess,  was  not  a  first  love  of 
Richard  Coeur  de  Lion.  The  latter  had  wooi.,1  Alice  of  France 
before  he  became  struck  with  the  beauty  of  Berenjraria,  at  a  tour- 
nament, apd  made  her  an  offer  of  his  hand.  In  similar  manner 
George  Louis  had  wooed,  but  was  not  engaged  to,  Anne  (as' 
Richard  was  to  Alice)  before  he  sought  in  marriage  the  youthful 
hophia  of  Zell. 

It  was  in  each  case  the  mother  of  the  lover  who  made  the  de- 
mand  for  the  lady's  hand  ;  and  Berengaria  was  as  eagerly  surren- 
dered to  Eleanor,  the  mother  of  Richard,  by  her  father  sLuo  the 
VV  ..e  as  Sophia  Dorothea  was  to  Sophia  of  Hanover,  by  her  sire 
he  Duke  of  Zell.  It  may  here  be  noticed,  that  ho^^/er  sL  l^! 
the  destmies  of  the  ladies,  there  was  nothing  alike  in  the  characters 


f 


I 


SOPHIA   DOROTHEA. 


173 


of  their  respective  fathers,  saving  only  in  their  love  for  being  sur- 
rounded by  foreigners,  and  especially  by  Frenchmen.  In  the  case 
of  the  father  of  Sophia  Dorothea,  this  inclination  was  taught  him 
by  his  Gallic  wife.  On  one  occasion,  at  a  court  dinner,  when  the 
whole  of  the  duke's  guests  were  found  to  be  Frenchmen,  one  of 
them,  more  truly  than  courteously,  remarked,  that  "II  n'y  a 
d'etranger  ici  que  monseigneur"  (his  highness  is  the  only  foreigner 
present ;)  a  remark  that  might  have  been  made  at  the  table  of  the 
Spanish  Sancho  of  Navarre,  who  was  surrounded  by  poets  and 
minstrels  from  other,  and  sometimes  far-distant,  lands. 

Berengaria  and  Kichard  were  espoused  at  Limoussa,  in  Cyprus, 
and  there  was  as  much  rude  pomp  at  the  wedding  as  of  cumbrous 
ceremony  at  that  of  Sophia  and  George  Louis.  The  former  so- 
lemnity followed  upon  much  wandering  about  by  sea  and  land, 
before  the  affianced  couple  met  at  Cyprus,  where  Richard  first 
overthrew  the  power  of  Isaac,  the  sovereign,  and  took  possession 
of  his  dominions,  before  he  espoused  liis  "  ladye,"  and  crowned  her 
Queen  of  Cyprus  as  well  as  of  England.  George  Louis  had  no 
opportunity  to  accomplish  any  achievement  of  a  like  nature  ;  but 
he  very  mucli  resembled  the  wild  bridegroom  in  the  act  which  fol- 
lowed. AVhen  Kichard  captured  Isaac,  there  also  surrendered  to 
him  Isaac's  daughter,  and  the  English  king  placed  the  fair  Cypri- 
ote in  the  train  of  his  newly-marrit^d  wife,  where  she  held  an  office 
similar  to  that  which  George  Louis  bestowed  on  Mademoiselle  von 
Schulemberg,  when  he  appointed  her  maid  of  honor  to  Sophia 

Dorothea. 

But  Berengaria  was  more  fortunate  than  Sophia,  in  one  thing ; 
she  had  a  faithful  friend,  and  that  friend  a  woman,— Joanna,  her 
sister-in-law  ;  and  the  two 

Held  each  other  dear. 

And  lived  as  doves  in  cage. 

Sophia  had  as  friend  only  Prince  Philip,  the  brother  of  her  bus- 
band,  and  he  communicated  little  with  her,  save  through  his  confi- 
dant,— the  presuming  and  ill-destined  Count  Konigsmark.  It  may 
be  added  that  Richard  was  more  justly  punished  for  his  infidelities 
than  George,  seeing  that  the  scandals  which  connected  the  name 
of  the  Cypriote  lady  with  that  of  the  English  king,  touched  the 


174 


LIVES   OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


honor  of  the  house  of  Austria,  related  to  her  by  the  alliance  of  the 
Arch-Duke  Leopold  with  the  family  of  the  Comneni ;  and  these 
scandals  commenced  the  feud  between  Leopold  and  Richard,  for 
which  the  latter  paid  so  dearly  by  his  captivity  in  Austria. 

In  the  meantime,  throughout  the  Syrian  campaign,  the  "  heiress 
of  Cyprus"  remained  near  the  presence  of  Berengaria,  who  had 
already  nearly  outlived  the  liking  of  her  lord.     Sophia  Dorothea 
saw  as  swift  a  change  in  the  fidelity  of  her  lord.     Richard  pro- 
ceeded on  his  way,  however,  at  the  conclusion  of  the  campaign,  in 
a  ship  belonging  to  a  master  of  the  Temple.     How  this  ship  was 
wrecked,  and  how  its  royal  passenger  was  ultimately  made  a  pris- 
oner, need  not  here  be  told.     The  vessel  which  bore  Berengaria, 
Joanna,  and  that  unwelcome  lady  of  Cyprus— all  under  the  guar- 
dianship of  a  suburban  knight,  named  Sir  Stephen  of  Turnham— 
arrived  safely  at  Naples,  where  the  ladies  landed,  and  thence  pro- 
ceeded to  Rome.     After  long  delays,  and  much  trouble,  they  trav- 
elled to  Pisa,  Genoa,  and  agJlin  by  ship  to  Marseilles.     From  the 
latter  port  they  were  escorted  by  the  crusader   Raymond  de  St. 
Gilles,  who   very  naturally  fell  in  love  with  Joanna  by  the  way, 
and  very  aptly  celebrated  the  arrival  of  Uie  ])arty  in  Poitou  by 
marrying,  and  making  a  happy  countess  of  the  young  and  well-en- 
dowed friend  of  Berengaria. 

At  Poitou,  Berengaria  remained  during  her  royal  husband's 
captivity.  The  Cypriote  princess  continued  to  reside  with  her;  a 
fact  which  says  much  for  her  Griselda-like  patience.  When,  how- 
ever,  it  was  intimated  that  the  Archduke  of  Austria  would  not 
consent  to  the  liberation  of  Richard  but  on  condition,  amon-  other 
stipulations,  that  the  daughter  of  Isaac  should  be  taken  from  the 
household  of  Richard  and  be  delivered  to  her  Austrian  relatives 
at  the  German  Congress,  the  spouse  of  Richard,  no  doubt,  paid 
that  portion  of  the  ransom  with  all  the  eagerness  of  an  unselfish 
wife. 

The  payment  never  brought  the  truant  husband  nearer  to  his 
wife,  than  George  ever  was  to  Sophia  Dorothea,  after  the  intri-ues 
of  his  and  his  father's  mistresses  had  made  two  hearths  in'one 
household.  Richard  hurried  to  England,  and  thence  to  his  An-e- 
vin  territories.     Here  he  was  in  the  vicinity  of  the  dwelling-place 


SOPHIA  DOROTHEA. 


175 


of  his  faithful  queen,  but  he  never  approached  her,  nor  showed 
more  solicitude  for  her  than  George  Louis  did,  when  hunting  in 
the  Ahlden  woods,  for  the  guiltless  prisoner  in  the  castle  there. 

In  both  cases,  the  husbands  were  given  to  low  debauchery, 
profiigate  company,  and  riotous  living.  In  both  cases,  the  husbands 
made  two  overtures  of  reconciliation,  which  in  both  cases  were  not 
indeed  ineffectual,  because  in  the  case  of  the  eariier  espoused  couple, 
the  wife  had  not  been  degraded  by  an  accusation  of  infidelity  made 
by  her  husband,— an  accusation  that  was  insultingly  implied  by 
George  Louis  in  his  persecution  of  Sophia  Dorothea.  The  recon- 
ciliation alluded  to  took  place  in  119G,five  years  after  the  marriage 
had  taken  place  in  Cyprus ;  nearly  the  whole  of  which  time  had 
been  spent  in  presence  of  the  revelry  of  the  Cypriote  princess,  or  in 
estrangement  from  Richard.  Tlw  re-union  lasted  three  years  ;  and 
had  it  been  followed  by  the  birth  of  an  heir  to  England,  it  would 
have  saved  the  country  from  the  career  of  John,  John  himself  from 
the  sin  of  the  murder  of  Arthur,  and  the  kingdom  from  being  put 
under  interdict  because  John  was  dishonest  enough  to  cheat  Beren- 
garia out  of  her  dower. 

Berengaria  passed  a  long  widowhood  at  Mans,  in  extent  of  time 
e(iual  to  that  of  the  cai)tivity  of  Sophia  Dorothea  at  Ahlden.  But  she 
was  a  happier,  and  periiaps  something  of  a  more  patient,  woman 
than  the  latter.  Even  in  her  estrangement  from  her  husband,  she 
never  uttered  a  word  of  complaint  against  him.  Not  that  Sophia 
Dorothea  failed  to  exhibit  either  mildness  or  dignity  in  her  captivity : 
on  the  contrary,  she  manifested  both  ;  and  Coxe  says  of  her,  in  his 
Memoirs  of  Walpole,  that,  "  on  receiving  the  sacrament  once  every 
week,  she  never  omitted  making  the  most  solemn  asseverations  that 
jihe  was  not  guilty  of  the  crime  laid  to  her  charge."  The  two 
wives  resembled  each  other  in  personal  beauty,  and  in  amiability 
of  disposition.  There  was  less  similarity  between  the  external 
appearance  of  their  respective  husbands.  George  Louis  was  small 
of  stature,  an  ill  dresser  in  his  early  days,  and  an  equally  bad  one 
in  declining  years,  when  Walpole  described  him  as  "  an  elderly 
man,  pale,  exactly  like  his  pictures  and  coins,  not  tall,  of  an  aspect 
rather  good  than  august ;  with  a  dark  tie  wig,  a  plain  coat,  waistcoat 
and  breeches  of  snuff-colored  cloth,  with  stockings  of  the  same 


176 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


color,  and  a  blue  riband  over  all."  Quite  another  figure  was 
Richard  in  his  satin  tunic  of  rose  color,  belted  round  his  waist ;  his 
mantle  of  silver  tissue,  striped,  and  brocaded  with  silver  half-moons, 
his  Damascus  sword,  gold-hilted  and  silver-sheathed ;  and  his 
scarlet  bonnet,  brocaded  in  gold  with  figures  of  animals.  He  had 
yellow,  or  flaxen  hair,  golden  locks,  indeed,  a  bright  complexion,  a 
soldierly  bearing,  and  a  graceful  figure  :  but  the  hearts  of  Richard 
and  George  were  very  much  alike  ;  neither  of  them  could  ajipre- 
ciate  the  worth  of  a  true  woman,  pure  of  mnid,  refined  of  taste,  and 
guiltless  of  wrong,  even  in  thought. 

We  have  raised  statues  to  George,  but  have  discreetly  hidden 
them  in  the  shrubberies,  dust  and  duskiness  of  our  "squares.  One 
was  raised  to  him  even  in  his  life-time;  but  it  is  only  within  a  year 
or  two  that  the  question  has  been  agitated  of  erecting  a  statue  in 
honor  of  the  husband  of  Berengaria.  This  question  has  been 
affirmatively  maintained  by  men  who  0[)pose  the  admission  of  the 
statue  of  Cromwell  among  those  of  the  masters  of  England  in  the 
House  of  Parliament.  U|)on  the  matter  of  Cromwell's  ttatue  I 
must  not  dilate,  more  than  to  say,  that  the  difficulty  lies  in  a  very 
small  compass.  If  the  sovereigns  of  England  are  to  be  iaithfully 
represented  according  to  their  succession,  then  Cromwell  cannot  be 
excluded ;  and  if  his  exclusion  is  determined  upon  because  he  was 
usurper,  or  regicide,  then  must  there  be  unoccuj)ied  pedestals  from 
Rufus  to  Stephen,  both  inclusive  ;  and  John,  the  third  Richard, 
and  indeed  several  others,  must  also  be  refused  admission,  on  the 
ground  that  they  were  assassins  or  usurpers,  and  som<'tiines  both. 

But  if  the  people  mutilated  the  statue  of  the  husband  of  Sophia 
Dorothea  in  his  life-time,  because  of  his  unworthiness,  still  more 
might  their  successors  protest  agaiitst  one  being  raised  in  honor  of 
that  husband  of  the  other  Queen  of  England  who  never  came 
among  us  to  claim  our  homage. 

Richard  was  even  a  worse  son  than  George.  The  two  men 
were  faithless  as  husbands,  brutal  as  lovers,  truthless  and  bloody  as 
princes.  There  was  no  respect  for  the  honor  of  any  w  oman  in  the 
heart  of  either  of  them;  and  they  further  resembled  each  other  in 
this,  that  in  their  early  days  they  had  more  affection  for  the  political 
system  of  France,  as  regarded  this  country,  than  for  that  of  En"-- 


178 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


SOPHIA   DOROTHEA. 


177 


land.  Of  the  ten  years  of  the  triply-accursed  reign  of  the  one, 
scarcely  more  than  half  as  many  months  were  spent  by  him  among 
the  people  confided  by  Providence  to  his  sway.  George  ranks 
next  to  him  as  an  absentee  ;  he  was  forever  seeking  an  opportunity 
to  visit  Hanover,  and,  when  there,  devising  excuses  for  not  return- 
ing. Richard  sold  the  highest  offices  of  the  crown,  and  squandered 
the  money  on  the  gratification  of  his  beastly  vices.  George  was 
quite  as  unscrupulous,  and  gave  offices  even  to  his  mistresses.  The 
husband  of  Berengaria  was  more  criminal  in  his  fraudulent  sale  of 
crown-lands,  as  well  as  crown-offices,  of  titles,  and  of  church-pre- 
ferments ;  in  some  of  which  things  the  husband  of  Sophia  Dorothea, 
or  his  government,  was  by  no  means  particular. 

When  Richard  was  about  setting  out  for  Acre,  he  instituted  the 
Order  of  the  Blue  Thong,  the  insignia  of  w^hich  was  a  blue  band  of 
leather  woni  on  the  left  leg,  and  which  appears  to  me  to  be  the 
undoubted  original  of  the  Order  of  the  Garter.  There  were 
twenty-four  knights  of  the  Order,  with  the  king  for  Master,  and  the 
wearers  pledged  themselves  to  deserve  increased  honors  by  scaling 
the  walls  of  Acre  in  company.  On  the  other  hand,  if  George  did 
not  institute,  he  at  least  restored  the  Order  of  the  Bath.  It  was  a 
measure  proposed  to  him  by  Sir  Robert  Walpole,  and  "  was  an 
artful  bank  of  thirty-six  ribands  to  supply  a  fund  of  favors  in  lieu 
of  places."  Two  of  the  ribands  were  offered  to  Sarah,  Dowager- 
Duchess  of  Marlborough,  for  her  grandson  the  duke,  and  for  the 
Duke  of  Bedford,  the  husband  of  her  granddaughter.  "  She 
haughtily  replied,"  says  Walpole,  "  they  should  take  nothing  but 
the  Garter.  *  Madam,'  said  Sir  Robert  coolly,  '  they  who  have 
the  Bath,  will  the  sooner  have  the  Garter.'  The  next  year  he 
took  the  latter  himself,  with  the  Duke  of  Richmond,  both  having 
been  previously  installed  knights  of  the  revived  institution." 

Richard  sold  the  trophies  of  his  former  victories  for  a  cap-full  of 
marks ;  and  his  refusal  to  adequately  avenge  the  slaughter  of  the 
Jews  at  his  coronation,  with  the  assertion  of  assassins  who  perpe- 
trated the  deed,  that  they  acted  under  his  sanction, — all  tends  to 
show  how  little  he  really  prized  honor,  and  how  as  little  he  regarded 
the  spilling  of  blood.     So   George,  if  brave,  "svas  not  chivalrous  ; 

and  when  his  own  Parliament,  on  the  conviction  of  the  Scottish 

8* 


SOPHIA   DOROTHEA. 


179 


178 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


peers  who  had  taken  arms  for  the  pretender,  petitioned  him  to  spare 
as  many  as  his  mercy  might  be  consistently  extended  to,  he  haugh- 
tily reproved  them  for  meddling  with  matters  which  did  not  concern 
them,  and  took  a  bloody  vengeance  for  a  venial  crime.  It  would 
have  been  bloodier  but  that  several  destined  victims  escaped  from 
their  prison  previous  to  the  day  named  for  their  execution. 

Both  these  men  were,  however,  brave  in  the  presence  of  an 
enemy  on  the  battle-field.  Courage  was  almost  their  solitary  vir- 
tue ;  and  George,  unlike  Richard,  never  ran  away  in  atJright  from 
the  wrath  and  the  cudgel  of  an  infuriated  peasant.  It  may  further 
be  put  to  the  credit  of  the  husband  of  Sophia  Dorothea,  that  he 
was  incapable  of  such  a  crime  as  that  committed  by  the  husband  of 
Berengaria,  after  the  capitulation  at  Acre,  when  he  ordered  the 
throats  of  thousands  of  the  enemy  to  be  cut,  who  had  surrendered 
upon  faith  of  honorable  treatment.  If  some  of  the  Jacobites  were 
entrapped  into  a  surrender  which  led  them  to  the  gallows,  the  agents 
of  George,  and  not  that  king  himself,  must  be  declared  responsible, 
despite  the  apophthegm  which  says,  qui  facit  per  alium  facit per  se, 

Richard  i)lundered  his  country  in  order  to  carry  on  a  crusade 
under  the  influence  of**  a  red  rag  and  insanity."  Ilis  deputies  plun- 
dered in  his  absence,  and  the  people  were  plundered  of  one-fourth 
of  their  property,  to  purchase  his  return.  AVhen  that  return  had 
taken  place,  he  deprived  of  their  offices  all  those  persons  to  wliom 
he  had  before  his  departure  sold  them,  on  the  pleti  that  such  sales 
were  illegal.  He  did  not  refund  the  original  purchase-money,  but 
he  resold  the  appointments  to  other  buyers.  There  was  as  great 
an  unlawful  buying  and  selling  in  George's  time,  but  the  system 
was  more  blamable  than  the  individual  who  presided  over  it ;  al- 
though he  alone  is  answerable  for  the  application  of  the  people's 
taxes  to  support  the  glittering  profligacy  of  his  mistresses.  He 
was  at  least  careful  to  contract  the  expenses  of  his  civil  list — after 
he  had  gone  far  enough  beyond  honest  limits  to  have  acquired  suf- 
ficient surplus  money  to  support  the  expenses  of  the  list  during  the 
remainder  of  his  reign,  and  after  he  had  persuaded  his  parliament 
to  make  good  the  defalcation.  Both  kings  mulcted  their  subjects 
heavily,  to  support  wars  against  a  foreign  power,  and  neither  paid 
much  regard  to  either  remonstrance  or  complaint.     They  were  both 


\ 


SOPHIA  DOROTHEA. 


179 


covetous ;  Richard  the  more  so.  Covetousness  brought  about  his 
death.  The  Lord  of  Limoges  had  discovered  a  treasure,  and  be- 
cause he  would  not  give  the  whole  of  it  to  Richard,  the  latter 
besieged  him  in  his  castle,  before  which  he  was  slain,  by  a  bolt 
driven  from  a  cross-bow  of  his  own  invention.  George,  like  him, 
died  abroad,  but  more  ingloriously.  It 'was  rather  gluttony  than 
covetousness,  in  its  pecuniary  sense,  which  compassed  his  death. 
Had  he  not  eaten  indiscreetly  of  melon,  in  spite  of  counsel  to  the 
contrary,  he  might,  perhaps,  have  lived  longer.  But  appetite  he 
could  not  constrain.  Richard  had  a  strong  one,  but  it  was  "  nicer" 
of  character.  George,  for  instance,  was  fond  of  oysters, — not  fresh 
English  natives,  but  tainted  things,  with  sickly  yawning  shells,  and 
these  he  would  swallow  with  disgusting  relish  and  avidity. 

Richard  does  not  bear  the  reputation  of  being  a  tender  father, 
even  to  his  illegitimate  children,  and  he  had  no  other.  George 
was  as  little  parentally  tender  to  his  legitimate  son  and  daughter ; 
to  the  former  he  was  especially  harsh,  and  more  than  harsh,  if  we 
may  credit  the  story,  that  he  received  from  the  Earl  of  Berkeley 
(first  lord  of  the  Admiralty)  a  written  proposal,  to  seize  the  Prince 
of  Wales,  and  convey  him  to  America,  where  he  should  never  be 
heard  of  more.  The  proposal  was  Berkeley's,  but  the  handwriting 
in  which  it  was  made  was  Charles  Stanhope's,  brother  of  the  first 
Earl  of  Harrington.  On  the  death  of  the  king,  Queen  Caroline 
found  the  proposal  among  other  papers  in  his  cabinet.  It  referred 
to  an  atrocious  deed,  and  AValpole  thinks  that  George  I.  was  too 
humane  to  listen  to  it ;  a  very  gratuitous  surmise,  for  the  treatment 
of  Sophia  Dorothea  was  only  less  atrocious  in  degree,  not  in  prin- 
ciple. Besides,  the  projectors  were  never  punished.  "  It  was  not 
very  kind  to  the  conspirators,"  says  Walpole,  "  to  leave  such  an 
instrument  behind  him ;  and,"  he  adds,  *'  if  virtue  and  conscience 
will  not  check  bold,  bad  men  from  paying  court  by  detestable  offices, 
the  king's  carelessness,  or  indifference,  in  such  an  instance, 
ought  to  warn  them  of  the  little  gratitude  that  such  machinations 
can  inspire  or  expect." 

This  son's  double  fault  in  his  father's  eyes  was  his  popularity, 
and,  at  one  time,  his  love  for  his  mother, — whom  he  loved,  we  are 
tpld,  as  much  as  he  liated  his  father.     A  pleasant  household,  a 


180 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS    OF  ENGLAND. 


ii 


sorry  hearth ;  mistresses  resting  their  rouged  cheeks  on  the  mon- 
arch's bosom,  a  wife  in  prison,  and  a  son  hating  her  oppressor,  and 
loving,  but  not  redressing  the  oppressed.  If  Berengaria  was  un- 
blessed wdth  a  child,  she  was  untried  by  no  huge  and  lengthened 
"vvrong  as  that  inflicted  on  Sophia  Dorothea.  Had  the  latter  help- 
less lady  survived  her  consort,  her  son,  it  is  said,  had  determined 
to  bring  her  over  to  England,  and  proclaim  her  qucen-dowager. 
Lady  Sutiblk,  the  snubbed  mistress  of  that  son,  expressed  to 
Horace  Walpole  her  surprise  in  going  (in  the  morning  after  the 
inteUigence  of  the  death  of  George  I.  had  reached  England)  to  the 
new  queen,  the  wife  of  the  man  of  whom  Lady  Suffolk  was  the 
concubine  rather  than  the  "  mistress," — expressed,  as  I  have  said, 
her  surprise,  at  seeing,  hung  up  in  the  queen's  dressing-room,  a 
whole  length  of  a  lady  in  royal  robes ;  and,  in  the  bed-chamber,  a 
half-length  of  the  same  person,  neither  of  which  Lady  SulVolk  had 
ever  seen  before.  The  prince  had  kept  them  concealed,  not  daring 
to  produce  them  during  the  life  of  his  father.  The  whole-length 
he  probably  sent  to  Hanover.  The  half-length  I  have  frequently 
seen  in  the  library  of  the  Princess  Amelia,  who  told  me  it  was  the 
property  of  her  grandmother.  She  bequeathed  it,  with  other  pic- 
tures of  her  family,  to  her  nephew,  the  Landgrave  of  Hesse." 

Smollett  describes  George  I.  nither  whimsically,  as  "a  wise 
politician,  who  perfectly  understood,  and  steadily  pursued  his  own 
interest."  If  this  be  true  policy,  it  is  also,  at  least  in  part,  a  selfish 
one.  His  character  partook  of  both  the  grave  and  gay.  He  knew 
when  he  might  fitly  be  either,  but  he  was  naturally  more  serious 
than  light  of  deportment  and  disposition.  Smollett  declares  him 
to  have  been  willing  to  govern  the  kingdom  according  to  constitu- 
tional principles,  but  that  he  was  thwarted  by  a  venal  and  corrupt 
ministry.  The  character  of  the  govennnent  is  not  over-charged, 
and  the  members  of  it  would,  as  Richard  expressed  his  own  wil- 
lingness to  do,  have  sold  London  itself,  the  honor  of  its  men,  and 
the  virtue  of  its  women,  if  they  could  have  found  purchasers. 

The  character  drawn  by  Chesterfield  of  the  husband  of  Sophia 
Dorothea  is  seriously  drawn,  but  it  has  a  solemnly  satirical  air. 
"  George  I.,"  says  my  lord,  "  was  an  honest,  dull,  German  gentle- 
man, as  unfit  as  unwilling  to  act  the  part  of  a  king,  which  is  to 


SOPHIA  DOROTHEA. 


181 


I 


shine  and  oppress ;  lazy  and  inactive  even  in  his  pleasures,  which 
were  therefore  lowly  sensual.  He  was  difliident  of  his  own  parts, 
which  made  him  si)eak  little  in  public,  and  prefer  in  his  social, 
which  were  his  favorite,  hours  the  company  of  wags  and  bufibons. 
Even  his  mistress,  the  Duchess  of  Kendal,  Avith  whom  he  passed 
most  of  his  time,  and  who  had  all  influence  over  him,  was  very 
little  above  an  idiot. 

'*  Importunity  alone  could  make  him  act,  and  then  only  to  get 
rid  of  it.  His  views  and  affections  were  singly  confined  to  the  nar- 
row compass  of  his  electorate.  England  was  too  big  for  him.  If 
he  had  nothing  great  as  a  king,  lie  had  nothing  bad  as  a  man ;  and 
if  he  does  not  adorn,  at  least  he  will  not  stain  the  annals  of  this 
country.  In  private  life  he  would  have  been  loved  and  esteemed 
as  a  good  citizen,  a  good  friend,  and  a  good  neighbor.  Happy 
were  it  for  Europe,  happy  for  the  world,  if  there  were  not  greater 
kings  in  it.'* 

Chesterfield  makes  more  account  of  George  I.,  both  as  king  and 
as  man,  than  he  deserved.  As  king,  he  does  stain  the  annals  of 
the  country  over  which  he  was  called  to  rule.  As  man,  Chester- 
field holds  him  to  have  had  that  within  him  which  made  him 
worthy  of  esteem  as  a  citizen,  friend,  and  neighbor ; — and  yet  he 
avers  of  such  a  man  that  he  was  lowly  sensual  and  lazy ;  that  he 
loved  the  company  of  bufibons,  and  that  he  preferred  the  society  of  a 
womjin  who  was  almost  an  idiot,  to  that  of  a  wife  who  was  accom- 
I)lished,  and  whom  he  could  never  prove  unfaithful.  He  was  unfit 
for  a  king,  we  are  told,  because  he  was  disinclined  to  oppression, 
and  yet  he  ke[)t  that  wife  for  more  than  thirty  years  a  prisoner ; — 
but  oppression  towards  a  wife  wiis  not  a  vice  in  the  estimation  of 
the  courtly  Chesterfield. 

George  had  doubtless  many  minor  provocations  during  his  reign, 
calculated  to  affect  his  temper  unfavorably.  The  pulpit  occasion- 
ally re-echoed  against  him,  as  the  priests  more  privately  used  to 
denounce  the  vices  of  Ilichard;  and  zealous  clergymen,  turned 
authors,  took  the  white  horse  of  Hanover  as  a  symbol,  and  applied 
to  it  the  passage  from  Ilevelations,  in  which  it  is  said : — "  I  looked, 
and  beheld  a  pale  horse,  and  his  name  that  sat  on  him  was  Death, 
and  Hell  followed  with  him." 


182 


LIVES  OF  THE    QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


As  a  sample  of  the  graciousness  of  the  king,  we  are  told  that 
his  ciirriage  having  been  broken  down  on  one  occasion,  when  trav- 
elling to  Hanover,  lie  found  tem|x)rary  refuge  in  the  house  of  a 
gentleman.  In  the  room  to  which  lie  was  ushered,  there  hunjr  the 
full  length  of  a  person  unknown  to  him,  yet  in  royal  robes.  The 
owner  of  the  portrait,  with  some  confusion,  explained  that  he  had 
known  the  Chevalier  when  at  Rome,  and  tliat  this  picture  was  a 
present  from  him.  The  king  is  supposed  to  have  been  veiy  gra- 
cious, because,  instead  of  giving  way  to  an  explosion  of  wrath,  he 
confined  himself  to  observing,  "  upon  my  word,  it  is  very  like  the 
family." 

He  received  a  severer  touch  from  an  old  officer  who  had  been 
intimate  with  him  before  his  accession  to  the  throne,  but  who  did 
not  appear  to  offer  him  congratulations  upon  his  succeeding  to  the 
title.  On  inquiry  being  made  as  to  the  cause,  the  veteran  replied, 
"  I  will  willingly  smoke  a  pipe  with  him  as  Elector  of  Hanover ; 
but  I  cannot  recognize  in  him  a  King  of  Great  Britain  !"  Con- 
sidering that  half  the  Hanoverian  family  were  Jacobites,  this  speech 
was  not  so  jjerilous  as  it  sounds.  Besides  the  union  of  En^rhuid 
with  the  electorate  of  Hanover  was  not  i)oj)ular  in  the  latter  local- 
ity, particularly  wlien  it  was  discovered  that  if  Hanover  was  in 
any  way  wronged,  England  would  not  interfere  to  redress  it, 
whereas  no  sooner  was  England  at  feud  with  any  continental  jww- 
er,  but  Hanover  was  the  first  to  feel  that  power's  resentment. 

His  right  to  the  throne  was  sometimes  questioned,  with  inge- 
nuity, even  in  Enghmd.  Thus,  when  the  flighty  Duchess  of  Buck- 
inghamshire was  refused  passage  in  her  own  carriage  through  a 
part  of  tlie  park  reserved  for  the  royal  family,  she  protested  to  the 
king,  that  if  royalty  only  had  the  right  of  crossing  the  privileged 
line,  he  had  no  more  claim  to  go  there  than  she  had.  He  wisely 
laughed,  and  gave  permission  to  the  mad  duchess  to  drive  whither- 
soever she  pleased. 

Although  the  king  could  not  speak  English,  he  appears  to  have 
understood  it  well  enough  when  it  was  spoken,  to  save  Sir  Robert 
Walpole  the  trouble  of  addressing  him  in  very  indifferent  Latin. 
He  would  hardly  otherwise  have  had  the  great  hall  at  Hampton 
Couit  fitted  up,  in  1718,  for  the  pei-formance  of  English  i)lays. 


SOPHIA  DOROTHEA. 


183 


The  king's  company  w^ere  to  have  played  there  throughout  the 
summer,  but  the  hall  was  not  ready  for  them  till  the  end  of  Sep- 
tember, by  which  time  Drury-Lane  re-opened  for  its  usual  autumn- 
winter  season,  and  **his  majesty's  servants"  played  in  his  presence 
only  seven  times.  They  were  under  the  direction  of  Steele,  who, 
in  place  of  being  rewarded  with  a  government  appointment  for  his 
political  services,  had  got  nothing  more  than  some  theatrical  privi- 
leges. The  plays  represented  were  "  Hamlet,"  on  the  23d  Sep- 
tember ;  "  Sir  Courtly  Nice,"  "  The  Constant  Couple,"  ''  Love  for 
Money,"  "  Volpone,  or  tlie  Fox,"  and  "  Rule  a  Wife  and  have  a 
Wife."  Shakespeare's  " Henry  the  Eighth"  was  the  King's  favorite 
play.  On  one  night  of  its  representation,  he  listened  attentively  to 
the  scene  in  which  Henry  commands  Wolsey  to  write  letters  of 
indemnity  to  those  counties  in  which  the  payment  of  taxes  had 
been  disputed ;  and  when  he  heard  Wolsey's  aside  to  Cromwell — 

Let  it  be  noised 
That  llirou«;h  our  intervention,  this  revokeracnt 
And  pardon  comes, 

the  king  turned  to  the  Prince  of  Wales,  and  said,  "  You  see, 
George,  what  you  have  one  day  to  expect."  His  majesty  could 
not  have  been  so  very  poor  an  English  scholar,  if  he  could  thus 
enjoy,  comprehend,  and  apply  passages  from  Shakespeare.  The 
other  plays  are,  indeed,  quite  as  difficult  for  a  foreigner  to  under- 
stand ;  and  George  the  First  must  have  had  a  very  fair  acquaint- 
ance with  our  language,  if  he  were  able  to  follow  Cibber  in  Sir 
Courfli/,  laugh  at  the  jokes  of  Pinkethman  in  Crack,  feel  the  heart- 
iness of  Miller  in  Hothead,  be  interested  in  the  Testimony  of  John- 
son, sympathetic  with  the  Surly  of  Thurmond,  enjoy  the  periods 
of  Booth  in  Farewell,  or  the  aristocratic  spirit  of  Mills  in  Lord 
IkUyuard.  The  ladies  in  the  play,  Leonore,  acted  before  him  by 
Mrs.  Porter,  and  Violante,  played  by  Mrs.  Younger,  have  also 
some  things  to  say  that  might  well  puzzle  one  not  to  the  matter 
born.  But  George  must  have  comprehended  all ;  for  he  so  tho- 
roughly enjoyed  all,  that  Steele  told  Lord  Sunderland,  on  being 
asked  how  his  majesty  liked  the  entertainment, — "  So  terribly  well, 
n\y  lord,  that  I  was  afraid  I  should  have  lost  all  my  actors ;  for  I 


184 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


was  not  sure  the  king  would  not  keep  them  to  fill  the  places  at  court 
tvhich  he  satv  them  so  Jit  for  in  the  play^' — a  remark  thorouglily 
imbued  with  the  trenchant  wit  of**  Sir  Richard." 

For  the  entertainment,  the  king  paid  the  travelling  expenses  of 
the  actors  down  to  Hampton,  amounting  to  fifty  pounds  each  night 
for  the  entire  company,  and  sent  a  couple  of  hundred  pounds  to 
Steele  and  the  other  managers.  Tliat  he  loved  the  theatre  is  not 
surprising ;  the  tastes  of  the  stage  were  as  gross  as  his  own  ;  and 
the  descendant  of  Wodin  could  complacently  savor  the  incense 
offered  him  in  such  lines  as  one  which  occurs  in  the  "  Generous 
Conqueror,  or  Timely  Discovery,"  in  which  the  author  assured 
him  that — 

The  gods  and  god-like  kings  can  do  no  wrong  ! 

Compared  with  which,  the  line  of  Cowper,  which  says,  that 

Great  princes  have  great  pleasures, 

is  very  trite  indeed. 

Both  George's  laureates  were  indiflerent  poets.  lie  appointed 
Howe  soon  after  his  accession,  and  Eusden's  lines  to  the  lord-cham- 
berlain (Duke  of  Newcastle)  on  his  marriage  with  Lady  Henrietta 
Godolphin,  procured  for  that  tipsy  poet  the  battered  laurel  crown. 
So  Gibber's  "Nonjuror,"  written  in  favor  of  the  Hanover  succes- 
sion, and  against  the  Nonjurors  and  Jacobites,  then  abounding  in 
London,  got  him  such  persecution  from  those  rebellious  persons, 
that  it  is  supposed  to  have  obtained  for  him,  by  way  of  compensa- 
tion, the  wreath  of  the  laureate,  presented  by  George  II. 

Toland  describes  George,  when  he  was  elector,  and  residing 
near  the  prison-house  of  Sophia  Dorothea,  as  being  exceedingly 
well-informed  on  Engli?h  questions ;  but  the  truth  is,  he  knew  so 
little  of  the  constitution  and  customs  of  the  country  over  which  he 
was  to  reign,  that,  on  ascending  the  throne,  he  told  his  ministers 
that,  from  his  want  of  knowledge  on  those  subjects,  he  should  place 
himself  entirely  in  their  hands,  and  be  govenied  by  them.  **  Then,'* 
added  he,  "  you  become  completely  answerable  for  everything  that 
I  do."  He  was  not  even  aware  of  his  constitutional  exemption 
from  responsibility. 

If  this  looks  like  a  low  sort  of  cunning,  on  the  other  liand  it 


1 


SOPHIA   DOROTHEA. 


185 


Id 


must  be  allowed  that  lie  was  not  without  wit,  and  he  could  say  a 
graceful  thing  in  a  graceful  way,  when  an  opportunity  offered,  and 
his  humor  wore  its  brighter  side  outwards.  To  a  German  noble- 
man, who  once  congratulated  him  on  being  sovereign  at  once  of 
England  and  Hanover,  he  happily  remarked,—"  Rather  congratu- 
lat  °me  on  having  such  a  subject  as  Newton  in  the  one,  and  Leib- 
nitz in  the  other."  His  declaration  of  principles  made  to  Sir  Peter 
King,  recorder  of  London,  at  the  lii-st  levee  after  the  accession,  and 
intended,  through  that  officer,  for  the  edification  of  the  citizens  at 
large,  was  at  least  tersely,  if  not  truly,  given:  "I  never  forsake  a 
friend,"  so  ran  the  phrase  ;  "  I  will  endeavor  to  do  justice  to  every- 
body ;  and  I  fear  nobody."  Of  the  three  parts  of  this  sentence, 
the  latter  alone  was  founded  on  truth. 

Less  hai)py  was  the  expression  of  an  idea,  called  up  by  the 
splendor  of  his  own  coronation,  when  he  observed  to  Lady  Cooper 
that  the  sight  of  the  place  brought  to  his  thoughts  the  day  of  judg- 
ment. Tl^e  lady  repliiHl,  in  the  taste  of  the  day,  and  with  little 
honesty  of  judgment,  **  Well  may  it  be  so,  your  majesty  ;  for  it  is 
ti-uly  the  resurvection  of  England  and  all  faithfid  subjects." 

More  happy  was  his  own  answer,  on  being  cliallenged  by  a 
masked  lady  at  a  court  masquerade,  to  drink  to  the  health  of  the 
pretender.  "  Very  willingly,"  said  he,  "  and  to  that  of  all  unfortu- 
nate princes  !"  He  thoroughly  enjoyed  the  pleasantry  of  others  ; 
was  delighted  with  Doctor  Savage's  merry  observation,  that  he 
had  failed  to  convert  the  pope  at  Rome,  because  he  had  nothing 
better  to  offer  him ;  and  very  truly  observed  of  a  Jacobite,  who 
had  been  often  arrested,  and  as  often  discharged  for  lack  of  proof, 
and  who,  on  the  breaking  out  of  the  rebellion,  requested  that,  as 
he  of  course  would  be  again  arrested,  he  begged  it  might  be  done 
at  once,  as  he  wanted  to  go  into  Devonshire,—"  Pooh,  pooh !"  said 
the  king ;  "  there  can  be  but  little  harm  in  one  who  writes  so  plea- 
8anily."°  Many  of  his  subjects,  however,  for  no  more  heinous 
crime,  were  most  oppressively  and  cruelly  used. 

Still,  his  gaiety  well  balanced  his  austerity.  This  is  well  in- 
Ftanced  in  the  case  of  Dr.  Lockier,  who  was  a  favorite  with  the 
king,  and  whose  continued  absence  from  court  so  perplexed  his 
majesty,  that  he  sent  the  Duchess  of  Lancaster  to  him,  with  an  in- 


186 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


vitation  to  an  evening  party.  The  doctor  declined  to  accept  it,  on 
the  ground  that  he  was  seeking  preternient  from  the  ministers,  and 
that  his  chance  of  success  would  be  marred,  were  they  to  suspect 
him  of  keeping  company  with  tlieir  master.  George  laughingly 
pronounced  the  reverend  place-hunter  to  be  in  the  right;  and 
when  the  latter,  some  weeks  afterwards,  kissed  hands,  ui)on  being 
appointed  the  Dean  of  Peterborough,  the  king  whispered  to  him 
ere  he  arose,—"  Well,  doctor,  I  hope  you  will  not  be  aiiMd  now  to 
come  and  see  me  again  in  the  evenin*^." 

Lockier's  dread  of  being  suspected  to  be  on  friendly  terms  with 
the  monarch  was  not  unreasonable;    for  a   similar  condition  of 
thuigs,  the  king's  personal  friend,  and  clerk  of  the  closet,  Dr. 
Younger,  with  whom  he  was  wont  to  converse  familiarly  in  Ger- 
man, was  officially  dismissed  from  his  post,  for  no  other  reason 
than  that  he  was  too  close  to  the  willing  ear  of  the  soverei"-n. 
"Where  is  Dr.  Younger?"  asked  the  latter,  on  missing  his  ever- 
welcome  presence.     "  Sire,"  said  the  minister,  "  he  is  dead."     "  I 
am  truly  sorry  for  it,"  said  George ;  "  he  was  a  good  man,  and  I 
intended  to  do  something  for  him."     At  a  subsequent  period,  ou 
one  of  his  progresses  through  the  country,  he  saw  the  doctor  offi- 
ciating in  his  cathedral,  at  Salisbury.     "My  little  dean,"  said  the 
sovereign,  "  I  am  glad  to  see  you  alive  ;  I  wius  told  you  were 
dead.     Why  have  you  not  been  to  court?"     The  dean  exi)lained, 
that,  having  received  an   official  letter,  informing  him  that  his 
majesty  no  longer  required  his  services,  he  thought  if  would  be 
unbecoming  to  intrude  himself  on  his  majesty's  ])resence.     "  1  see 
I  see,  how  it  is,"  said  the  king,  with  excusable  warmth  ;  "  but,  by 

,  you  shall  be  the  first  bishop  I  will  make."     And  George 

would  have  ke{)t  his  word,  only  that  the  dean  died  before  a  bisho^)- 
ric  became  vacant. 

W^here  the  ministers  could  lie,  the  menials  of  course  could 
steal.  A  Hanoverian  cook  at  the  palace,  disgusted  at  the  rapacity 
of  his  fellows,  who  would  not  allow  him  to  share  in  their  j)lunder 
went  and  complained  to  the  king  in  person.  lie  assei-ted  his  own 
honesty,  but  declared  that  such  a  virtue  resided  in  no  other  person 
in  the  household.  "  Embezzlement,"  said  he,  "  is  rife  in  the 
kitchen,  despite  all  I  can  do.     Wlien  the  dishes  are  brought  from 


I 
i 


SOPHIA  DOROTHEA. 


187 


<^ 


your  majesty's  table,  one  steals  a  fowl,  another  a  pig,  a  third  a 
joint  of  meat,  another  a  pie,  and  so  on,  till  there  is  nothing  left." 
George,  who  saw  that  the  sorrow  felt  was,  probably,  because  there 
was  "  nothing  left"  to  steal,  answered, — "  I  can  put  up  with  these 
things ;  and  my  advice  to  you  is,  to  go  and  steal  like  the  rest,  and 
to  remember  to  take  enough."  The  fellow  took  his  master  at  his 
word,  and  became  as  accomplished  in  peculiar  lightness  of  hand  as 
the  most  expert  of  the  impudent  cooks  immortalized  in  Athenjeus. 

Before  concluding  this  chapter,  I  will  add  a  few  notices  upon 
the  children  of  Sophia  Dorothea,— George,  and  the  daughter 
named  after  her  mother. 

The  son  of  Sophia  of  Zell  was  the  pupil  of  her  mother-in-law, 
Sophia  of  Hanover  ;  and  his  boyhood  did  little  credit  to  the  sys- 
tem, or  the  acknowledged  good  sense  of  his  instructress. 

When  the  Earl  of  Macclesfield  was  at  Hanover,  in  the  year 
1700,  bearing  with  him  that  Act  of  Succession  which  secured  a 
throne  for  the  husband  and  son  of  Sophia  Dorothea,  that  son 
George  Augustus  was  not  yet  out  of  his  "  teens."  He  was  of 
that  age  at  which  a  prince  is  considered  wise  enough  to  rule  king- 
doms, but  is  yet  incapable  of  governing  himself.  At  that  time,  he 
was  said  to  "  give  the  greatest  hopes  of  himself  that  we,  or  any 
people  on  earth,  could  desire."  He  was  not  of  pix)ud  stature,  in- 
deed, and  Alexander  w  as  not  six  feet  high ;  but  Toland  asserts, 
what  is  very  hard  to  believe,  that  George  possessed  a  winning 
countenance,  and  a  manly  aspect  and  deportment.  In  later  years, 
he  was  rigid  of  feature,  and  walked  as  a  man  does  who  is  stift'  in 
the  joints.  He  was,  in  the  days  of  his  youth,  a  graceful  and  easy 
speaker ;  that  is,  his  plu-ases  were  well  constructed,  and  he  ex- 
pressed them  with  facility.  His  complexion  was  fair,  and  his  hair 
a  light  brown.  Like  his  father,  he  spoke  Latin  fluently;  and 
English  much  better  than  his  father ;  but  with  a  decided  foreign 
accent,  like  William  of  Orange.  As  the  utmost  cai-e  was  taken, 
according  to  Toland,  to  furnish  him  with  such  other  accomplish- 
ments as  are  fit  for  a  gentleman  and  a  prince,  it  is  a  pity  that  he 
made  so  unprofitable  a  use  of  so  desirable  a  provision.  He  was 
tolerably  well  versed  in  that  history  which  his  minister,  Walpole, 
used  to  have  read  to  him  as  a  relaxation,  because,  as  he  said,  it 


188 


LIVES   OF  THE   QUEENS   OF  ENGLAND. 


was  not  true  ;  but  history  to  liim  was  not  philosophy  teaching  by 
example  ;  for  though,  in  his  earlier  years,  panegyrists  said  of  him, 
not  only  that  his  inclinations  were  virtuous,  but  that  he  was 
"  wholly  free  from  all  vice,"  his  life,  subsequently,  could  not  be  so 
characterized,  and  the  latter  practice  marred  the  fair  precedent. 
But  let  Toland  limn  the  object  of  his  love. 

"  These  acquired  parts,"  he  says,  "  with  a  generous  disposition 
and  a  virtuous  inclination,  will  deservedly  render  him  the  darling 
of  our  people,  and  probably  grace  the  English  throne  with  a  most 
knowing  prince."     In  the  popular  sense  of  the  term,  the  last  words 
cannot  be  denied ;  and  yet  he  never  knew  how  to  obtain,  or  cared 
how  to  merit,  his  people's  love.     "  He  learns  English  with  inex- 
pressible facility     ....     and  has  not   only    learned   of  his 
grandmother  to  have  a  real  esteem  for  Englishmen,  but  he  like- 
wise entertains  a  higli  notion  of  the  wisdom,  goodness,  and  power 
of  the  English  government,  concerning  which  I  heard  him,  to  my 
great  satisfaction,  ask  several  pertuient  questions,  and  such  as  be- 
tokened no  mean  or  common  observation.     I  was  surprised  to  find 
he  understood  so  nmch  of  our  aflau's  already ;  but  his  great  vivacity 
will  not  let  him  be  ignorant  of  any  thing.     There  is  nothing  more 
to  be  wished,"  says  Toland,  ^^but  tbat  he  be  proof  against   the 
temptations  which  accomi)any  greatness,  and  defended  from  the 
poisonous  infection  of  flatterers,  who  are  the  greatest  banes  of 
society,  and  commonly  occasion  the  ruin  of  i)rinces,  if  not  in  their 
lives,  yet,  at  least,  in  their  fame  and  reputation."     It  was  under 
the  temptations  alluded  to  that  George  Augustus  made  shii)wreck 
of  his  fame.     His  history,  however,  will  be  traced  more  fully  here- 
after.    At  present  we  will  only  consider  the  career  and  character 
of  his  sister. 

The  daughter  of  Sophia  Dorothea,  four  years  younger  than  her 
brother,  was  fifteen  years  old  when  the  Act  of  Succession  opened 
a  throne  to  her  father,  but  not  to  her  mother.  She  had  in  her 
youth  sweetness  of  manners,  fainiess  of  features,  and  a  soft  and 
winning  voice.  Her  fair  brown  hair,  as  in  her  mother's  case 
heightened  the  grace  and  charms  of  a  fair  complexion ;  and  her 
blue  eyes  were  the  admiration  of  the  poets,  and  the  insjiiration 
even  of  those  Avhom  the  gods  had  not  made  poetical.     Her  fea-  ' 


SOPHIA  DOROTHEA. 


189 


tures,  taken  singly,  were  not  without  defect ;  but  the  expression 
which  pervaded  them  was  a  good  substitute  for  purely  unintellect- 
ual  beauty.  The  Electress  Sophia  was,  if  not  her  governess,  the 
superintendent  of  her  governesses ;  and  the  training,  rigid  and 
formal,  failed  in  the  development  that  was  most  to  be  desired. 
Had  her  brother  died  childless,  the  succession  w^as  fixed  in  her 
person,  and  tlms  Prussia  might  have  been  to  England  what  Hanover 
has  been.  "  In  minding  her  discourse  to  others,"  says  Toland, 
"  and  by  what  she  was  pleased  to  say  to  myself,  she  appears  to 
have  a  more  than  ordinary  share  of  good  sense  and  wit.  The  whole 
town  and  court  commend  the  easiness  of  her  manners,  and  the 
evenness  of  her  disposition,  but,  above  all  her  other  qualities,  they 
highly  extol  her  good  humor,  which  is  the  most  valuable  endow- 
ment of  either  sex,  and  the  foundation  of  most  other  virtues.  Upon 
the  whole,  considering  her  personal  merit,  and  the  dignity  of  her 
family,  I  heartily  wish  and  hope  to  see  her  some  day  Queen  of 
Sweden."  This  hearty  wish  was  not  to  be  realized.  The  younger 
Sophia  Dorothea  became  the  wife  of  a  brute,  and,  as  I  have  said, 
the  mother  of  a  hero. 

I  have  already  noticed  how  the  ^lark  of  Brandenburgh  became 
a  kingdom.  The  new  kingdom  of  Prussia  grew  in  strength  as  the 
old  empire  of  Germany,  sidit  into  numerous  independent  govern- 
ments, increased  in  weakness.  Tlie  second  monarch  of  the  kingdom 
just  named  was  Frederick  "William,  to  whom  the  daughter  of  Sophia 
of  Zell  was  married  on  the  28th  of  November,  1706  ;  shortly  afler 
which,  the  newly-married  couple  became  King  and  Queen  of 
Prussia. 

The  bridegroom  was  a  man  of  few  virtues,  Kut  of  many  and 
great  vices.  He  was  not  destitute  of  talent,  and  he  urns  ungovern- 
able of  temper.  His  conduct  to  his  wife  was  that  of  an  insane 
savage.  He  deprived  her  of  the  guardianship  of  her  children,  and 
kept  her  so  ill-provided  for,  that,  at  last,  had  it  not  been  for  a 
revenue  of  800/.  allowed  her  by  her  brother,  George  II.,  she  would 
have  been  worse  off  than  the  lowest  "  burgherinn"  in  Berlin.  Out 
of  the  taxes  paid  by  the  people  of  England,  the  Queen  of  Prussia 
was  furnished  with  clean  linen,  and  some  of  the  other  luxuries  and 
necessaries  of  life. 


II 


188 


LIVES   OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


was  not  true  ;  but  history  to  him  was  not  philosophy  teaching  by 
example  ;  for  though,  in  his  earlier  years,  panegyrists  said  of  liim, 
not  only  that  his  inclinations  were  virtuous,  but  that  he  was 
"  wholly  free  from  all  vice,"  his  life,  subsequently,  could  not  be  so 
characterized,  and  the  latter  practice  marred  the  fair  precedent. 
But  let  Toland  limn  the  object  of  his  love. 

"  These  acquired  parts,"  he  says,  '*  with  a  generous  disposition 
and  a  virtuous  inclination,  will  deservedly  render  him  the  darling 
of  our  people,  and  probably  grace  the  English  throne  with  a  most 
knowing  prince."  In  the  popular  sense  of  the  term,  the  last  words 
cannot  be  denied ;  and  yet  he  never  knew  how  to  obtain,  or  cared 
how  to  merit,  his  people's  love.  "  He  learns  English  with  inex- 
pressible facility  ....  and  has  not  only  learned  of  his 
grandmother  to  have  a  real  esteem  for  Enghshmen,  but  he  hke- 
wise  entertains  a  high  notion  of  the  wisdom,  goodness,  and  j)ower 
of  the  English  government,  concernhig  which  I  heard  him,  to  my 
great  satisfaction,  ask  several  pertment  questions,  and  such  as  be- 
tokened no  mean  or  common  observation.  I  was  surprised  to  find 
he  understood  so  much  of  our  aft'airs  already ;  but  his  great  vivacity 
will  not  let  him  be  ignorant  of  any  thing.  There  is  nothing  more 
to  be  wished,"  says  Toland,  "  but  that  he  be  proof  against  the 
temptations  which  accompany  greatness,  and  defended  from  the 
poisonous  infection  of  flatterers,  who  are  the  greatest  banes  of 
society,  and  commonly  occasion  tlie  ruin  of  princes,  if  not  in  their 
lives,  yet,  at  least,  in  their  fame  and  reputation."  It  was  under 
the  temptations  alluded  to  that  George  Augustus  made  shipwreck 
of  his  fame.  His  history,  however,  will  be  traced  more  fully  here- 
after. At  present  we  will  only  consider  the  career  and  character 
of  his  sister. 

The  daughter  of  Sophia  Dorothea,  four  years  younger  than  her 
brother,  was  fifteen  years  old  when  the  Act  of  Succession  opened 
a  throne  to  her  father,  but  not  to  her  mother.  She  had  in  her 
youth  sweetness  of  manners,  fairness  of  features,  and  a  soft  and 
wiiming  voice.  Her  fair  brown  hair,  as  in  her  mother's  case, 
heightened  the  grace  and  charms  of  a  fair  complexion  ;  and  her 
blue  eyes  were  the  admiration  of  the  poets,  and  the  inspiration 
even  of  those  whom  the  gods  had  not  made  poetical.     Her  fea- 


SOPniA  DOROTHEA. 


189 


turcs,  taken  singly,  were  not  without  defect ;  but  the  expression 
which  pervaded  them  was  a  good  substitute  for  purely  unmteUect- 
ual  beauty.     The  Electress  Sophia  was,  if  not  her  governess,  the 
superintendent  of  her  governesses;  and  the  training,  rigid  and 
formal,  failed  in  the  development  that  was  most  to  be  desired. 
Had  her  brother  died  childless,  the  succession  was  fixed  m  her 
person,  and  thus  Prussia  might  have  been  to  England  what  Hanover 
has  been.     "In  minding  her  discourse  to  others,"  says  Toland, 
"  and  by  what  she  was  pleased  to  say  to  myself,  she  appears  to 
have  a  more  than  ordinary  share  of  good  sense  and  wit.     The  whole 
town  and  court  commend  the  easiness  of  her  manners,  and  the 
evenness  of  her  disposition,  but,  above  all  her  other  qualities,  they 
hi-hly  extol  her  good  humor,  which  is  the  most  valuable  endow- 
ment  of  either  sex,  and  the  foundation  of  most  other  virtues.     Upon 
the  whole,  considering  her  personal  merit,  and  the  dignity  of  her 
family,  I  heartily  wish  and  hope  to  see  her  some  day  Queen  ot 
Sweden  "     This  hearty  wish  was  not  to  be  realized.     The  younger 
Sophia  Dorothea  became  the  wife  of  a  brute,  and,  as  I  have  said, 

the  mother  of  a  hero. 

I  have  already  noticed  how  the  ISIark  of  Brandenburgh  became 
a  kinrrdom.  The  new  kingdom  of  Prussia  grew  in  strength  as  the 
old  empire  of  Germanv,  split  into  numerous  independent  govern- 
ments,  increased  in  weakne«=s.  The  second  monarch  of  the  kingdom 
just  named  was  Frederick  William,  to  whom  the  daughter  of  Sophia 
of  Zell  was  married  on  the  28th  of  November,  1706  ;  shortly  after 
which,  the   newly-married   couple   became    King  and  Queen  of 

The  bridegroom  was  a  man  of  few  virtues,  but  of  many  and 
great  vices.  He  was  not  destitute  of  talent,  and  he  was  ungovern- 
able of  temper.  His  conduct  to  his  wife  was  that  of  an  insane 
savanre.  He  deprived  her  of  the  guardianship  of  her  children,  and 
kept'her  so  ill-provided  for,  that,  at  last,  had  it  not  been  for  a 
revenue  of  800/.  allowed  her  by  her  brother,  George  IL,  she  would 
have  been  worse  off  than  the  lowest  "  burgherinn"  in  Berlin.  Out 
of  the  taxes  paid  by  the  people  of  England,  the  Queen  of  Prussia 
was  furnished  with  clean  linen,  and  some  of  the  other  luxuries  and 
necessaries  of  life. 


4 


190 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


SOPHIA  DOKOTHEA. 


191 


Her  husband  was  at  the  time  immensely  rich,  and  parsimonioua 
unparalleledly.  A  hundred  and  twenty  millions  of  dollars  lay 
unfructifying  in  the  cellars  of  the  palace  ;  and  he  had  a  cabinet  full 
of  gold,  which  he  gave  to  his  wife— to  take  care  of.  He  compelled 
his  nobles  to  part  with  their  estates  at  a  nominal  price,  and  farmed 
his  lands  to  tax-gatherers,  who  hugely  plundered  the  tenants,  and 
were  as  profoundly  fleeced  in  return  by  their  gracious  king.  His 
ambassador  at  the  Hague  cut  his  throat  with  the  only  razor  the 
poor  fellow  possessed,  driven  frantic,  as  he  was,  by  being  reduced 
to  poverty,  for  a  very  slight  otience.  He  had  cut  down  some  wood 
for  fuel  in  the  garden  attached  to  his  official  residence,  and  which 
was  the  property  of  the  Prussian  govenunent,  or  rather  King. 
The  latter  immediately  mulcted  him  of  a  whole  year's  salary  ;  and 
this,  modest  as  the  amount  was,  reducing  him  to  most  miserable 
straits,  the  poor  envoy,  doubly  hurt,  by  the  disgrace  and  the  injury, 
took  up  his  solitary  razor,  and,  in  the  spirit  of  a  Japanese  noble, 
resorted  to  a  suicide  as  a  specific  for  his  duplex  wrong. 

The  worst  feature  in  the  character  of  the  royal  madman,  how- 
ever, was  his  terrible  hatred  of  women.  In  the  streets  they,  and 
indeed  the  men  also,  fled  at  his  approach ;  the  latter  he  allowed  to 
escape  with  a  curse ;  but  if  a  woman  came  within  reach  of  him, 
he  would  kick  at  her,  punch  her  head  with  his  iron  fist,  or  smite 
her  with  his  cane.  It  is  not  wonderful  that  the  same  man 
attempted  the  life  of  his  own  son :  but  it  is  wonderful  that  his 
subjects  did  not  fling  the  monster  into  the  turbid  waters  of  his  own 

river  Spree. 

Of  the  marriage  of  this  couple,  a  princess,  Frederica  Sophia 
Wilhelmina,  was"the  first  child.  She  was  bom  in  1707.  Before 
she  was  twelve  years  old,  she  was  "  beaten  into  plaster"  by  father, 
servant,  and  governesses,  and  was,  as  well-beaten  children  gene- 
rally are,  cunning,  bold,  and  mendacious.  Of  this  child,  and  even 
at  this  early  age,  her  mother  was  unwise  enough  to  make  a  con- 
fidant ;  telling  her  of  her  own  miseries,  and  employing  her  as  a 
spy  upon  her  father,  especially  in  his  drunken  and  unsuspicious 
hours.  This  led  to  scenes  that  would  seem  as  farcical  as  an 
Adelphi  burletta,  were  it  not  that  they  were  not  farces,  but  ter- 
rible realities ;  and  in  them  we  see  a  mother  lying  to  her  husband, 


J 


again  lying  to  her  child,  teaching  the  latter  to  lie  to  her  sire,  who, 
exasperated  by  discovery  or  suspicion,  pursues  the  criminals  to 
every  conceivable  and  mconceivable  hiding-place,  routing  them 
out  with  his  crutched  stick,  and  following  them  with  oaths  and 
menaces,  as  they  flee  before  him  whh  prayers  and  screams.     The 
queen  even  purchased  the  alliance  of  her  menials,  and  these  took 
her  money,  and  betrayed  her  to  the  king.     The  menials,  however, 
appear  to  have  been  quite  as  irreproachable  as  many  of  the  noble 
courtiers,— among  whom  it  would  have  been  difficult  to  find  one 
woman  virtuous,  or  one  man  honest.     Not  that  these  lacked  be- 
yond the  circle  of  mere  courtiers.     The  queen  herself,  with  all 
her   heavy  faults,    was  blameless    in  her  character  of  wife  and 
woman;    and  there   were   honest   hearts   beneath   many  a   blue 
uniform  in  Berlin :  but  a  hideous  uncleanness  of  sentiment  and 
spirit  stuck  like  a  leprosy  to  the  souls  and  actions  of  the  very  best 

among  them. 

The  marriage  of  the  daugliter  was  a  consummation  the  most 
devoutly-wished  for  by  the  mother ;  and  at  one  time  it  had  been 
determined  to  marry  the  two  grandchildren  of  George  I.,  Frede- 
rick Duke  of  Gloucester  (afterwards  Prince  of  Wales),  and  his 
sister  Amelia,  to  the  daughter  and  son  of  King  Frederick  and 
Queen  Sophia.  George  I.  himself  went  to  Berlin,  in  1723,  to 
further   this   match,  but  it   never    came    to    the    much-desired 

conclusion. 

In  the  mean  time,  the  Prussian  king  drank  harder  than  ever ; 
and  when  he  was  sick,  but  not  sorry,  after  these  debauches  he 
would  sing  psalms  and  preach  sermons  to  his  family,  who,  laugh- 
ing at  him  in  return,  generally  got  well  thrashed  before  the  end  of 
the  service.     In  one  desponding  fit  he  resolved  to  abdicate,  take  a 
small  house  in  the  country,  make  his  daughter  wash  the  linen, 
employ  his  son  in  marketing,  and  set  his  consort  to  the  spit.     To 
inure  them  to  their  destined  change  of  circumstances,  he  employed 
barbarities   which   have   been  duly  described   as   disgi-aceful   to 
human  nature.     No  brute   beast  could   more  have   disregarded 
decency  in  presence  of  its  offspring.     No  madman  ever  ended  a 
more  terrific  career  of  outrage  before  wife  and  children,  by  an 
attempt  at  hanging,  than  he  did.     And  few  wives  would  have  fol- 


192 


LIVES   OF  THE    QUEENS   OF   ENGLAND. 


lowed  the  example  of  Sophia  Dorothea,  and  have  cut  down  the 
brute,  only  to  be  the  victim  of  his  further  brutalities.  The  lives 
of  both  wife  and  children  were  more  than  once  very  nearly  sacri- 
ficed by  his  assassin-like  crueUies.  The  detail  of  them  is  sicken- 
ing in  the  extreme.  His  most  bitter  disappointment  lay  in  the 
fact,  that  he  could  not  find  proof  of  treason  in  his  children  whereby 
to  be  authorized  to  put  them  both  to  death, — ••  that  rascal  Fritz, 
and  that  hussey  Wilhelmina." 

I  need  not  here  repeat  that  weU-known  story  which  tells  of  the 
attempt  made  by  the  young  prince  to  escape  from  his  father's 
brutalities  ;  how  it  ended  in  the  violent  death  of  the  prince's  friend, 
and  how  it  had  well-nigh  ended  in  the  murder  of  the  son  himself. 

AVilhelmiua  was  ultimately  married  to  the  little  Prince  of 
Bareuth ;  and  the  marriage  and  the  life  which  followed  thereupon 
have  much  more,  in  their  narration,  the  air  of  a  pantomime  than 
of  prosaic  history.  The  wedding  was  comically  ceremonious ;  the 
bride's  sister  endeavored  to  seduce  the  bridegroom ;  and  after  the 
young  couple  had  departed  with  their  suite,  they  were  greeted  on 
their  passage  by  bodies  of  ••  notables,"  who  were  huge  living  cari- 
catures, with  the  addition  of  being  very  dirty.  They  did  not 
reach  their  palace  before  the  ponderous  carriage  which  bore  them 
had  broken  down  and  rolled  the  illustrious  travellers  into  the 
mud. 

It  would  lead  me  too  much  away  from  my  subject  to  descril)e 
the  princess's  father-in-law. — the  Margrave  who  had  read  but  two 
books,  had  a  purse  as  ill-furnished  as  his  mind,  and  yet  never 
walked  to  his  cold  meat  without  a  flourish  from  a  couple  of 
tracked  trumpets  to  announce  that  event  to  the  world,  and  bid 
lesser  jx>tentates  sit  down. 

The  same  pantomimic  aspect  rested  on  all  the  other  personages, 
and  on  all  the  furniture,  appointments,  and  incidents  of  the  couit. 
Every  thmg  was  of  an  exaggerated  character,  even  the  vices  ; 
and  when  the  court  drank,  stupendous  inebriety  followed,  with 
accidents  to  match — which  even  pantomimes  forbear  to  brino- 
before  the  public.  We  hear,  too,  of  princesses  with  noses  like 
beet-root,  and  maids  of  honor  so  tat  that  they  cannot  sit  down,  and 
never  stoop  to  kiss  a  hand  without  rolling  over  on  the  carpeL 


SOPHLi  DOROTHEA. 


^ 


193 


But  to  return  to  the  daughter  of  our  Sophia  of  Zell.  The 
Queen  of  Prussia  had  negotiated  a  marriage  between  her  son 
Frederick  (not  yet  the  **  Great")  and  a  princess  of  Brunswick- 
She  openly  spoke  of  her  intended  daughter-in-law  with  ridicule 
and  disgust,  and  was  not  more  reserved  even  in  the  poor  lady's 
presence.  The  queen  survived  her  brutal  husband,  whose  last  act 
was  to  bid  her  get  np  and  see  him  die.  She  obeyed,  and  the  king 
duly  performed  the  feat  wliich  he  had  called  her  to  witness.  Her 
after-life  was  more  happy,  and  the  virtues  she  exhibited  during  its 
course  tend  to  prove  that  the  tyranny,  cruelty,  and  filthy  insults  of 
which  she  had  been  made  the  victim  by  her  husband,  alone 
rendered  the  wretched  woman  not  merely  a  slave,  but,  as  slaves 
are  wont  to  be,  careless  in  the  observation  of  strict  proprieties. 
As  the  revered  mother  of  the  Great  Frederick,  she  lived  on  to 
the  year  1757.  when  she  died  at  the  allotted  age  of  man,  three- 
score years  and  ten.  The  present  King  of  Prussia  is  a  lineal 
descendant  of  Sophia  Dorothea  of  Zell  through  this  daughter,  the 
second  queen  that  wore  the  Prussian  crown.  He  presides  in 
BerHn,  the  mere  Viceroy  of  the  Czar. 

But  it  is  time  to  turn  from  this  record  of  incidents  of  the  times 
of  Sophia  and  George  Louis,  to  that  of  circumstances  in  the  lives 
of  their  successors.  Of  the  former  pair  it  may  be  said,  that  Sophia 
atoned  for  some  possible  indiscretion  by  a  long  captivity,  the 
severity  of  which  tended  only  to  the  purifying  and  perfecting  of 
her  character.  Her  husband  has  been  described  truly  in  alfew 
words  by  Mr.  Macauby,  when  speaking  of  Pitt's  lines  on  the 
monarch's  death :  ••  The  Muses  are  earnestly  entreated  to  weep 
over  the  urn  of  Caesar:  for  Caesar,  says  the  poet,  loved  the 
Muses  ;  Casar,  who  could  not  read  a  line  of  Pope,  and  who  loved 
nothing  but  punch  and  fat  women." 

Vol.  I.— 9 


iA 


194 


LIVES  OF  THE    QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


CAEOLINE  WILHELMINA  DOROTHEA, 

WIFE   OF   GEORGE   II. 

Da  seufzt  sie,  da  presst  sie  das  Ilerz — et  war 
Ja  Lieb  und  Gliick  nur  getraumet. 

Geibbl.  • 


CHAPTER  I. 

BEFORE    THE   ACCESSION. 

Caroline  Wilhelmina  Dorothea  was  the  daughter  of 
John  Frederick,  IVIarquis  of  Brandenburg  Anspach,  and  of 
Eleanor  Erdmuth  Louisa,  his  second  wife,  daughter  of  John 
George,  Duke  of  Saxe  iLisenach.  She  was  born  in  1683,  and 
married  the  Electoral  Prince  of  Hanover,  afterwards  George  IL, 
in  the  year  1705.  Her  mother  having  re-married,  after  her 
father's  death,  when  Caroline  was  very  young,  the  latter  left  the 
Court  of  her  step-father,  George  IV.,  Elector  of  Saxony,  for  that 
of  her  guardian,  Frederick,  Elector  of  Brandenburg,  afterwards 
King  of  Prussia.  The  Electress  of  Brandenburg  was  the  daughter 
of  Sophia,  Electress  of  Hanover,  and  sister  of  George  L  The 
young  Caroline  was  considered  fortunate  in  being  placed  under 
the  care  of  a  lady,  who,  it  was  said  at  the  time,  and  perhaps  with 
some  reason,  would  assuredly  give  her  a  "  tincture  of  her  own 
politeness.'* 

Notice  has  already  been  taken  of  the  suitors  who  early  offered 
themselves  for  the  hand  of  the  youthful  i)nncess ;  and  for  what 
excellent  reason  she  selected  the  son  of  Sophia  Dorothea.  It  wius 
faid,  when  she  came  to  share  the  throne  of  England  with  her 


CAROLINE    WILHELMINA  DOROTHEA. 


195 


i 


if 


husband,  that  Heaven  had  especially  reserved  .her  in  order  to 
make  Great  Britain  happy.  Her  early  married  life  was  one  of 
some  gaiety,  if  not  of  felicity ;  and  Baron  Pilnitz  says  in  his 
memoir,  that  when  the  electoral  family  of  Hanover  was  called  to 
the  throne  of  this  country,  she  showed  more  cool  carelessness  for 
the  additional  grandeur,  than  any  of  the  family,  whose  outward 
indifference  was  a  matter  of  admiration,  in  the  old  sense  of  that 
word,  to  all  who  beheld  it.  The  Princess  Caroline,  according  to 
the  baron,  particularly  demonstrated  that  she  was  thoroughly 
satisfied  in  her  mind  that  she  could  be  happy  without  a  crown,  and 
that  "  both  her  father-in-law  and  her  husband  were  already  kings 
in  her  eyes,  because  they  highly  deserved  that  title."  Of  her 
conduct  during  the  period  she  was  Princess  of  Wales,  the  same 
writer  says  that  she  favored  neither  political  party,  and  was 
equally  esteemed  by  each.     This, .  however,  is  somewhat  beside 

the  truth. 

The  poets  were  as  much  concerned  with  the  Princess  of  Wales 
as  the  politicians.  Some  abused,  and  some  adored  her.  Addison, 
in  1714,  assured  her  that  the  Muse  waited  on  her  person,  and  that 
she  herself  was 

— horn  to  strengtlien  and  to  grace  our  isle. 

The  same  writer  could  not  contemplate  the  daughter  of  Caroline, 
but  that  his  prophetic  eye  professed  to — 

Already  kgc  the  illustrious  youths  complain, 
And  future  monarchs  dooni'd  to  sigh  in  vain. 

Frederick  (Duke  of  Gloucester),  the  elder  and  less  loved  son  of 
Caroline,  was  not  yet  in  England,  but  her  favorite  boy  William 
was  at  her  side  ;  and  of  him  Addison  said,  that  he  had  "  the 
mother's  sweetness  and  the  father's  fire."  The  poet  went  on,  less 
to  prophesy  than  to  speculate  with  a  "  perhaps,"  on  the  future 
destiny  of  AVilliam  of  Cumberland,  and  it  was  well  he  put  in  the 
saving  word,  for  nothing  could  be  less  like  fact  than  the  "fortune** 
alluded  to  in  the  following  lines : — 

For  thee,  perhaps,  even  now  of  kingly  race, 
Some  dawning  beauty  blooms  in  every  grace. 


196 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


Some  Caroline,  to  Heaven's  dictates  true, 
Who,  while  the  sccctreil  rivals  vainly  sue, 
Thy  inborn  worth  with  conscious  eye  shall  see, 
And  slight  th'  imperial  diadem  for  thee. 

Of  the  princess  herself,  he  says  more  truly,  that  she — 

with  graceful  ease 
And  native  majesty  is  form'd  to  please. 

And  he  adds,  that  the  stage,  growing  refined,  will  draw  its  finished 
heroines  from  her,  who  was  herself  known  to  be  **  skill'd  in  the 
labors  of  the  deathless  muse." 

In  short,  Parnassus  was  made  to  echo  with  eulogies  or  epigrams 
upon  the  subject  of  this  royal  lady.  Of  the  quarrel  between 
George  I.  and  his  son  mention  has  been  already  made.  For  years 
together,  the  king  never  addressed  a  word  to  the  Prince  of  Wales, 
but  the  princess  would  compel  him,  as  Count  Broglio,  the  French 
ambas.<ador,  writes,  to  answer  the  remarks  which  she  addressed  to 
him  when  she  encountered  him  ''  in  public."  But  even  then,  says 
the  count,  **  he  only  speaks  to  her  on  these  occasions  for  the  sake 
of  decorum."  She-devil,  was  the  application  commonly  employed 
by  the  amiable  king  to  designate  his  high-sj)irited  daughter-in- 
law. 

The  Prince  and  Princess  of  Wales,  on  withdrawing  from  St. 
James's,  established  their  court  in  '•  Leicester  Fields."  Walpole 
draws  a  pleasant  picture  of  this  Court.  It  must  have  been  a  far 
livelier  locality  than  that  of  the  king,  whose  ministers  were  the 
older  AVhig  politicians.  "  The  most  promising,"  says  Walpole, 
"  of  the  young  lords  and  gentlemen  of  that  party,  and  the  prettiest 
and  liveliest  of  the  young  ladies,  formed  the  new  court  of  the 
Prince  and  Princess  of  Wales.  The  apartment  of  the  bedf  liamber- 
women  in  waiting  became  the  fashionable  evening  rendezvous  of 
the  most  distinguished  wits  and  beauties :  Lord  Chesterfield,  the 
Lord  Stanhope,  Lord  Scarborough,  Can*  (Lord  Hervey),  elder 
brother  of  the  more  known  John  Lord  Hervey,  and  reckoned  to 
have  superior  parts  ;  General  (at  that  time  only  Colonel)  Cliarles 
Churchill,  and  others,  not  necessary  to  mention,  were  constant 
attendants ;  Miss  Lepell,  afterwards  Lady  Hervey,  my  mother^ 
Lady  Walpole,  Mrs.  Selwyn,  mother  of  the  famous  George,  and 


CAROLINE  WILHELMINA   DOROTHEA. 


197 


k 


herself  of  much  vivacity,  and  pretty ;  Mrs.  Howard,  and,  above 
all,  for  universal  admiration,  Miss  Bellenden,  one  of  the  maids  of 
honor.  Her  face  and  person  were  charming;  lively  she  was 
almost  to  etoiirderie  ;  and  so  agreeable  she  was,  that  I  never  heard 
her  mentioned  afterwards  by  one  of  her  contemporaries  who  did 
not  prefer  her  as  the  most  perfect  creature  they  ever  knew." 

To  this  pleasant  party  in  this  pleasant  resort,  the  Prince  of 
Wales  often  came, — his  chief  attraction  being,  not  the  wit  or 
worth  of  the  party,  but  the  mere  beauty  of  one  of  the  party  form- 
ing it.  This  was  Miss  Bellenden,  who,  on  the  other  hand,  saw 
nothing  in  the  fair-haired  and  little  prince  that  could  attract  her 
admiration.  The  prince  was  never  famous  for  much  delicacy  of 
either  expression  or  sentiment,  but  he  could  exhibit  a  species  of 
wit  in  its  way.  He  had  probably  been  contemplating  the 
engraving  of  the  visit  of  Jupiter  to  the  nymph  Danae  in  a  shower 
of  gold,  when  he  took  to  pouring  the  guineas  from  his  purse,  in 
Miss  Bellenden's  presence.  He  seemed  to  her,  if  we  may  judge 
by  the  comment  she  made  upon  his  conduct,  much  more  like  a 
villanous  little  bashaw  offering  to  purchase  a  Circassian  slave, — 
and  on  one  occasion,  as  he  went  on  counting  the  glittering  coin, 
she  exclaimed,  "  Sir,  I  cannot  bear  it ;  if  you  count  your  money 
any  more  I  will  go  out  of  the  room."  She  did  even  better,  by 
marrying  the  man  of  her  heart.  Colonel  John  Campbell, — a  step 
at  which  the  ])rince,  when  it  came  to  his  knowledge,  affected  to  be 
extremely  indignant ; — and  never  forgave  her  for  an  offence,  which 
indeed  was  no  offence,  and  required  no  forgiveness.  The  Prince, 
like  tliat  young  Duke  of  Orleans  wiio  thought  he  would  suffer  in 
reputation  if  he  had  not  a  "favorite"  in  his  train,  let  his  regard 
stop  at  Mrs.  Howard,  another  of  his  wife's  bedchamber  women, 
who  was  but  too  happy  to  receive  such  regatd,  and  to  return  it 
with  all  required  attachment  and  service. 

The  Princess  of  Wales,  during  the  reign  of  her  father-in-law, 
maintained  a  brilliant  court,  and  presided  over  a  gay  round  of 
pleasures.  In  this  career  she  gained  that  which  she  sought  after, 
—popularity.  What  she  did  from  policy,  her  husband  the  prince 
did  from  taste  ;  and  the  encouragement  and  promotion  of  pleasure 
were  followed  by  the  one  as  a  means  to  an  end,  by  the  other  for 


H 


^i 


198 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


the  sake  of  the  pleasure  itself.  Every  morning  there  was  a  draw- 
ing-room at  the  princess's,  and  twice  a  week  there  was  the  same 
splendid  reunion  in  her  apartments,  at  night.  This  gave  the 
fashion  to  a  very  wide  circle ;  crowded  assemblies,  balU,  mas- 
querades, and  ridottos  became  the  "  rage,"— and  from  the  fatigues 
incident  thereto,  the  votaries  of  fashion  found  relaxation  in  plays 

and  operas. 

Quiet  people  were  struck  by  the  change  which  had  come  over 
court  circles  since  the  days  of  ''  Queen  Anne,  who  had  always  been 
decent,  chaste,  and  formal."     The  change   indeed  was  great,  but 
diverse  of  aspect.     Thus  the  court  of  pleasure  at  which  Caroline 
reigned  supreme,  was  a  court  where  decency  was  respected ;— re- 
spected, at  least,  as  much  as  it  well  could  be,  at  a  time  when  there 
was  no  superabundance  of  respect  for  decency  in  any  quarter. 
Still,  there  was  not  the  intolerable  grossness  in  the  house  of  the 
prince  such  as  there  was  in  the  very  presence  of  his  sire.     Lord 
Chesterfield  said  of  that  sire  that  -  he  had  nothing  bad  in  him  as  a 
man,"  and  yet  he  makes  record  of  him  that  he  had  no  respect  for 
woman,— but  some  liking,  it  may  be  added,  for  those  who  had  little 
principle    and   much   fat.     "He    brought   over    with    him,"  says 
Chestertield,  "  two  considerable  samples  of  his  bad  taste  and  good 
stomach,— the  Duchess  of  Kendal  and  the  Countess  of  Darlington ; 
leaving  at  Hanover,  because  she  happened  to  be  a  Papist,  the 
Countess  von  Platen,  whose  weight  and  circumference  was  little 
inferior  to  theirs.     These  standards  of  his  majesty's  tastes  naade  all 
those  ladies  who  aspired  to  his  favor,  and  who  were  near  the  statu- 
table size,  strain  and  swell  themselves,  like  the  frogs  in  the  fable, 
to  rival  the  bulk  and  dignity  of  the  ox.     Some  succeeded,  and 
others  burst."     If  the  house  of  the  son  was  not  the  abotle  of  all  the 
virtues,  it  at  least  was  not  the  stye  wherein  wallowed  his  sire. 
Upon  the  change  of  foshion,  Chesterfield  writes  to  Bubb  Dodding- 
ton,  in  1716,  the  year  when  Caroline  began  to  be  looked  up  to  as 
the  arbitress  of  fashion :—"  As  for  the  gay  part  of  the  town,  you 
would  find  it  much  more  flourishing  than  when  you  left  it.     Balls, 
assemblies,  and  masquerades,  have  taken  the  place  of  dull,  formal, 
visitin*'  davs.  and  the  women  are  much  more  agreeable  trifles  than 
they  were  designed.     Puns  are  extremely  in  vogue,  and  the  license 


^ 


i 


CAROLINE  WILHELMINA   DOROTHEA. 


199 


very  great.  The  variation  of  three  or  four  letters  in  a  word  breaks 
no  squares,  insomuch  that  an  indifferent  punster  may  make  a  very 
good  figure  in  the  best  companies."  The  gaiety  at  the  town  resi- 
dence of  the  prince  and  princess  did  not,  however,  accompany  them 
to  Richmond  Lodge.  There  Caroline  enjoyed  the  quiet  beauties 
of  her  pretty  retreat,  which  was,  however,  shared  with  her  husband's 
favorite,  **  Mrs.  Howard." 

"  Leicester  Fields"  was,  nevertheless,  not  always  such  a  bower 
of  bliss  as  AValpole  has  described  it,  from  hearsay.  If  the  prince 
and  ladies  were  on  very  pleasant  terms,  the  princess  and  the  ladies 
were  sometimes  at  loggerheads,  with  as  little  regard  for  bienseance, 
as  if  they  had  been  very  vulgar  people ;  indeed,  they  often  were 
exceedingly  vulgar  people  themselves. 

It  was  with  Lord  Chesterfield  that  Caroline  Wilhemina  Doro- 
thea was  most  frequently  at  very  ungraceful  issue.  Lord  Chester- 
field was  one  of  the  prince's  court,  and  he  was  possessed  of  an 
uncontrollable  inclination  to  turn  the  princess  into  ridicule.  Of 
course,  she  was  made  acquainted  with  this  propensity  of  the  refined 
Chesterfield  by  some  amiable  friend,  who  had  the  regard  which 
friends,  with  less  judgment  than  what  they  call  amiability,  generally 
liave  for  one's  failings. 

Caroline,  perhaps  half  afraid  of  the  peer,  whom  she  held  to  be  a 
more  annoying  joker  than  a  genuine  wit,  took  a  middle  course  by 
way  of  correcting  Chesterfield.  It  was  not  the  course  which  a 
woman  of  dignity  and  refinement  would  have  adopted ;  but  it  must 
be  remembered  that,  at  the  period  in  question,  the  princess  was 
anxious  to  keep  as  many  friends  around  her  husband  as  she  could 
muster.  She  consequently  told  Lord  Chesterfield  half  in  jest  and 
half  in  earnest,  that  he  had  better  not  provoke  her,  for  though  he 
had  a  wittier  he  had  not  so  bitter  a  tongue  as  she  had,  and  any 
outlav  of  his  wit,  at  her  cost,  she  was  determined  to  pay,  in  her 
way,  with  an  exorbitant  addition  of  interest  upon  the  debt  he  made 
her  incur. 

The  noble  lord  had,  among  the  other  qualifications  of  the  fine 
gentlemen  of  the  period,  an  alacrity  in  lying.  He  would  gravely 
assure  the  princess,  that  her  royal  highness  was  in  error ;  that  he 
could  never  presume  to  mimic  her  ;  and  thereupon  he  would  only 


200 


LIVES  OP  THE  QUEENS  OF  EITOLAND. 


H 


'! 


watch  for  a  turn  of  her  head,  to  find  an  opportunity  for  repeating 
the  offence  which  he  had  protested  could  not  possibly  be  laid  to  his 
charge. 

Caroline  was  correct  in  asserting  that  she  had  a  bitter  tongue. 
It  was  under  control  indeed ;  but  when  she  gave  it  unrestricted 
freedom,  its  eloquence  was  not  well  savored.  Indeed  her  mind 
was  far  less  refined  than  has  been  generally  imagined.  There  are 
many  circumstances  that  might  be  cited  in  proof  of  this  assertion ; 
but,  perhaps,  none  is  more  satisfactory',  or  conclusive  rather,  than 
the  fact,  that  she  was  the  correspondent  of  the  Duchess  of  Orleans, 
whose  gross  epistles  can  be  patiently  read  only  by  grossly  inclined 
persons ;  but  who,  nevertheless,  tell  so  much  that  is  really  worth 
knowing,  that  students  of  history  read,  blush,  and  are  delighted. 
Of  this  correspondence  we  shall  speak  in  a  subsequent  chapter. 

The  Prince  of  Wales,  dissatisfied  with  his  residences,  entered 
into  negotiations  for  the  purchase  of  Buckingham  House.  That 
mansion,  of  which  more  will  be  said,  when  we  come  to  speak  of  its 
royal  mistress.  Queen  Charlotte,  was  then  occupied  by  the  dowager 
Duchess  of  Buckingham,  she  whose  mother  was  Catharine  Sedley, 
and  whose  father  was  James  II.  She  was  the  mad  duchess,  who 
always  went  into  mourning,  and  shut  up  Buckingham  House,  on 
the  anniversary  of  the  death  of  her  grandfather,  Charles  I.  The 
duchess  thus  writes  of  the  negotiation,  in  a  letter  to  Mrs.  Howard  : — 

*'  If  their  royal  highnesses  will  have  everything  stand  as  it  is, 
furniture  and  pictures,  I  will  have  3000/.  per  anmim.  Both  run 
hazard  of  being  spoiled ;  and  the  last,  to  be  sure,  will  be  all  to  be 
new  bought,  whenever  my  son  is  of  age.  The  quantity  the  rooms 
take  cannot  be  well  furnished  under  10,000/.  But  if  their  hi^h- 
nesses  will  permit  all  the  pictures  to  be  removed,  and  buy  the 
furniture  as  it  will  be  valued  by  different  people,  the  house  shall 
go  at  2000/.  If  the  prince  or  princess  prefer  much  the  buyin" 
outright,  under  60,000/.  it  will  not  be  parted  with  as  it  now  stands  ; 
and  all  his  majesty's  revenue  cannot  purchase  a  place  so  fit  for 
them,  nor  for  so  less  a  sum.  The  princess  asked  me  at  the  draw- 
ing-room if  I  would  not  sell  my  fine  house.  I  answered  her, 
smiling,  that  I  was  under  no  necessity  to  part  with  it ;  yet,  when 
what  I  thought  was  the  value  of  it  should  be  offered,  perhaps  my 


k    . 


CAROLINE  WILHELMINA  DOROTHEA. 


201 


prudence  might  overcome  my  inclination."  Whether  the  sum  was 
thought  too  much  by  the  would-be  purchasers,  or  whether  the 
capricious  duchess  obeyed  inclination  rather  than  prudence,  is  not 
known  ;  but  the  negotiation  went  no  further.  • 

It  may  be  that  the  princess,  who  particularly  affected  to  be 
desirous  of  furthering  the  interests  of  English  commerce,  had  some 
inclination  to  possess  this  place  as  occupying  a  portion  of  the  locality 
on  which  James  I.  planted  his  famous  mulberry  garden,  at  a  time 
when  he  was  anxious  to  introduce  the  mulberry  into  general  culti- 
vation, for  the  sake  of  encouraging  the  manufacture  of  English 
silks.  At  all  events,  at  the  period  when  Caroline  expressed  some 
inclination  to  possess  a  residence,  which  did  not  fall  into  the  hands 
of  royalty  until  it  became  the  property  of  Queen  Charlotte,  there 
was  a  mulberry  garden  at  Chelsea,  the  owner  of  which  was  a  Mrs. 
Gale.  In  these  gardens,  some  very  rich  and  beautiful  satin  was 
made,  from  English  silk-worms,  for  the  Princess  of  Wales,  who  took 
an  extraordinary  interest  in  the  success  of  "  the  native  worm." 
The  experiments,  however,  patronized  as  they  were  by  Caroline, 
did  not  promise  a  realization  of  sufficient  profit  to  warrant  their 
being  pursued  any  further. 

The  town  residence  of  the  prince  and  princess  lacked,  of  course, 
the  real  charms,  the  quieter  pleasures,  of  the  lodge  at  Richmond. 
The  estate  on  which  the  latter  was  built  formed  part  of  the  forfeit- 
ed property  of  the  Jacobite  Duke  of  Ormond. 

The  prince  and  princess  kept  a  court  at  Richmond,  which  must 
have  been  one  of  the  most  pleasant  resorts  at  which  royalty  has 
ever  presided  over  fashion,  wit,  and  talent.  At  this  court,  the 
young  (John)  Lord  Hervey  was  a  frequent  visitor,  at  a  time,  when 
his  mother.  Lady  Bristol,  was  in  waiting  on  the  princess,  and  his 
brother,  Lord  Carr  Hervey,  held  the  post  of  groom  of  the  bed- 
chamber of  the  prince.  Of  the  personages  at  this  "  young  court," 
the  right  honorable  John  Wilson  Croker  thus  speaks  : — 

*'  At  this  period.  Pope,  and  his  literary  friends,  were  in  great 

favor  at  this  *  young  court,'  of  which,  in  addition  to  the  handsome 

and  clever  princess   herself,    Mrs.  Howard,  Mrs.   Selwyn,  Miss 

Howe,  Miss  Bellenden,  and  Miss  Lepell,  with  lords  Chesterfield, 

Bathurst,  Scarborough,  and  Hervey,  were  the  chief  ornaments. 

(j* 


202 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


ti 


I 


Above  all,  for  beauty  and  wit,  were  IMiss  Bellenden,  and  Miss 
Lepell,  who  seem  to  have  treated  Pope,  and  been  in  return  treated 
by  him,  with  a  familiarity  that  appears  strange  in  our  more  deco- 
rous days.*  These  young  ladies  probably  considered  him  as  no 
more  than  what  Aaron  Hill  described  him, — 

^  Tuneful  Alexis,  on  the  Thames'  fair  side, 

The  ladies'  plaything  and  the  Muse's  pride. 

Mr.  Croker  notices,  that  Miss  Lepell  was  called  il/rs.,  according 
to  the  fashion  of  the  time.  It  was  the  custom  so  to  designate 
every  single  lady  who  was  old  enough  to  be  married. 

Upon  Richmond  Lodge,  Swift  showered  some  of  his  most  pun- 
gent verses.  He  was  there  more  than  once,  when  it  was  the 
scene  of  the  "  young  court."  Of  these  occasions  he  sang,  after 
the  princess  had  become  queen,  to  the  following  tune : — 

Here  wont  the  Dean,  when  he  's  to  seek, 
To  sponge  a  breakfast  once  a  week, 
To  cry  the  bread  was  stale,  and  mutter 
Complaints  against  the  royal  butter. 
But  now  I  fear  it  will  be  said. 
No  butter  sticks  upon  his  bread. 
We  soon  shall  find  him  full  of  spleen, 
For  want  of  tattling  to  the  queen  ; 
Stunning  her  royal  ears  with  talking  ; 
His  rcv'rence  and  her  highness  walking. 
Whilst  saucy  Charlotte,*  li  a*  a  stroller, 
Sits  mounted  on  the  garden  roller. 
A  goodly  sight  to  see  her  ride. 
With  ancient  Mirmont  at  her  side. 
In  velvet  cap  his  head  is  warm. 
His  hat,  for  shame,  beneath  his  arm. 

During  a  large  portion  of  the  married  life  of  George  Augustus 
and  Caroline,  each  was  supposed  to  be  under  the  infiuence  of  a 
woman,  whose  real  influence  was,  however,  overrated,  and  whose 
importance,  if  great,  was  solely  so  because  of  the  undue  value 
attached  to  her  imaginary  influence.  Both  those  persons  were  of 
the  "  young  court,"  at  Leicester  House,  and  Richmond  Lodge. 

•  *  De  Roncy. 


CAROLINE   WILHELMINA    DOROTIIE.;. 


208 


1 


•     C 


The  women  in  question  were  Mrs.  Howard,  the  Prince's  "  favor- 
ite," and  Mrs.  Clayton,  bedchamber  woman,  like  Mrs.  Howard,  to 
Caroline.     The  first  lady  was  a  daughter  of  a  Knight  of  the  Bath, 
Sir  Henry  Ilobart.     Early  in  life,  she  married  Mr.  Howard,  "  the 
younger  brother  of  more  than  one  Earl  of  Suflblk,  to  which  title 
he  at  last  succeeded  himself,  and  left  a  son  by  her,  who  was  the 
last  earl  of  that  branch."     The  young  couple  were  but  slenderly 
dowered ;  the  laily  had  little,  and  her  husband  less.     The  Court 
of  Queen  Anne  did  not  hold  out  to  them  any  promise  of  improv- 
ing their  fortune,  and  accordingly  they  looked  around  for  a  locality 
where  they  might  not  only  discern  the  promise,  but  hope  for  its 
realization.     Their  views  rested  upon  Hanover  and  "  the  rising 
sun  "  there,  and  thither,  accordingly,  they  took  their  way,  and  there 
they  found  a  welcome  at  the  hands  of  the  old  Electress  Sophia, 
with  scanty  civility  at  those  of  her  grandson,  the  electoral  prince. 
At  this  time,  the  fortunes  of  the  young  adventurers  were  so  low, 
and  their  aspirations  so  high,  that  they  were  unable  to  give  a  din- 
ner to  the  Hanoverian  minister,  till  Mrs.  Howard  found  the  means, 
by  cutting  off  a  very  beautiful  head  of  hair,  and  selling  it.     If  she 
did  this  in  order  that  she  might  not  incur  a  debt,  she  deserves 
some  degree  of  praise,  for  a  habit  of  prompt  payment  was  not  a 
fashion  of  the  time.     The  sacrifice  probably  sufficed ;  for  it  was 
the  era  of  full-bottomed  wigs,  which  cost  twenty  or  thirty  guineas, 
and  ]\Irs.  Howard's  hair,  tO  be  applied  to  the  purpose  named,  may 
have  brought  her  a  dozen  pounds,  with  which,  a  very  recherche 
dinner  might  have  been  given,  at  the  period,  to  even  the  most  gas- 
tronomic of  Hanoverian  ministers,  and  lialf-a-dozen  secretaries  of 
legation,  to  boot. 

The  fortune  sought  for  was  seized,  although  it  came  but  in  a 
questionable  shape.  After  the  lapse  of  some  little  time,  the  lady 
had  made  sufficient  impression  on  the  hitherto  cold  Prince  George 
Augustus  to  induce  him,  on  the  accession  of  his  father  to  the  crown 
of  England,  to  appoint  her  one  of  the  bedchamber  women  to  his 
wife,  Caroline,  Princess  of  Wales. 

When  Mrs.  Howard  had  won  what  was  called  the  "regard"  of 
the  prince,  she  separated  from  her  husband.  He,  it  is  true,  had 
little  regard  for,  and  merited  no  regard  from,  his  wife.     But  ]\e 


204 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS    OF  ENGLAND. 


f 


t\ 


was  resolved  that  she  should  attain  not  even  a  bad  eminence,  un- 
less he  profited  by  it.  He  was  a  wretched,  heartless,  drunken, 
gambling  profligate,  too  coarse,  even,  for  the  coarse  fine  gentlemen 
of  the  day.  When  he  found  himself  deserted  by  his  wife,  there- 
fore, and  discovered  that  she  had  estabhshed  her  residence  in  the 
household  of  the  prince,  he  went  down  to  the  palace,  raised  mi 
uproar  in  the  court-yard,  before  the  guards  and  other  persons  pre- 
sent, and  made  vociferous  demands  lor  the  restoration  to  him  of  a 
wife  whom  he  really  did  not  want.  lie  was  tlirust  out  of  the 
quadrangle  without  much  ceremony,  but  he  was  not  to  be  silenced. 
He  even  appears  to  have  interested  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury 
in  the  matter.  The  prelate  affected  to  look  upon  the  princess  as 
the  protectress  of  her  bedchamber-woman,  and  the  cause  of  the 
latter  living  separate  from  her  husband,  to  whom  he  recommended, 
by  letter,  that  she  should  be  restored.  Walpole  says,  further,  that 
the  archbishop  delivered  an  epistle  from  Mr.  Howard  himself, 
addressed  through  the  Princess  Caroline  to  his  wife,  and  that  the 
princess  "  had  the  malicious  pleasure  of  delivering  the  letter  to 

her  rival." 

Mrs.  Howard  continued  to  reside  under  the  roof  of  this  strangely- 
assorted  household ;  there  was  no  scandal  excited  thereby  at  the 
period,  and  she  was  safe  from  conjugal  importunity,  whether  at  St. 
James's  Palace  or  Leicester  House.  "The  case  was  altered,'* 
says  Walpole,  "  when,  on  the  arrival  of  summer,  their  royal  high- 
nesses were  to  remove  to  Richmond.  Being  only  woman  of  the 
bedchamber,  etiquette  did  not  allow  Mrs.  Howard  the  entree  of 
the  coach,  with  the  princess.  She  apprehended  that  ;Mr.  Howard 
might  seize  her  upon  the  road.  To  baffle  such  an  attempt,  her 
friends,  John,  Duke  of  Argyle,  and  his  brother,  the  Earl  of  Islay, 
called  for  her  in  the  coach  of  one  of  them  by  eight  o'clock  in  the 
morning  of  the  day  by  noon  of  which  the  prince  and  princess  were 
to  remove,  and  lodged  her  safely  in  their  house  at  Richmond."  It 
would  appear,  that  after  this  period,  the  servant  of  Caroline  and 
the  favorite  of  George  Augustus  ceased  to  be  molested  by  her 
husband ;  and,  although  there  be  no  proof  of  that  gentleman  hav- 
ing been  "  bought  off,"  he  was  of  such  character,  tastes,  and  prin« 
ciples,  that  he  cannot  be  thought  to  ha%e  been  of  too  nice  an  honor 


CAROLINE  WILHELMINA  DOROTHEA. 


205 


to  allow  of  his  agreeing  to  terms  of  peace  for  pecuniary  "  con- 
sideration." 

George  thought  his  show  of  regard  for  Mrs.  Howard  would 
stand  for  proof  that  he  was  not  "led"  by  his  wife.  The  regard 
wore  an  outwardly  Platonic  aspect,  and  daily,  at  the  same  hour, 
the  royal  admirer  resorted  to  the  apartment  of  the  lady,  where  an 
hour  or  two  was  spent  in  "  small  talk,"  and  conversation  of  a 
generally  uninteresting  character.  . 

It  is  very  illustrative  of  the  peculiar  character  of  George  Augus- 
tus, that  his  periodical  visits  every  evening  at  nine,  were  regulated 
with  such  dull  punctuality,  "  that  he  frequently  walked  about  his 
chamber  for  ten  minutes,  with  his  watch  in  his  hand,  if  the  stated 
minute  was  not  arrived." 

Waliwle  also  notices  the  more  positive  vexations  Mrs.  Howard 
received  when  Caroline  became  queen,  whose  head  she  used  to 
dress,  until  she  accjuired  the  title  of  Countess  of  Suffolk.  The 
queen,  it  is  said,  delighted  in  subjecting  her  to  such  servile  offices, 
though  always  apologizing  to  her  good  Howard.  "  Often,"  says 
AValpole,  *'  her  majesty  had  more  complete  triumph.  It  happened 
more  than  once,  that  the  king,  coming  into  the  room  while  the 
queen  was  dressing,  has  snatclied  off  the  handkerchief,  and,  turn- 
ing rudely  to  Mrs.  Howard,  has  cried,  '  Because  you  have  an  ugly 
neck  yourself,  you  hide  the  queen's.' " 

One  other  instance  may  be  cited  here  of  Caroline's  dislike  of 
lier  good  Howard.  "  The  queen  had  an  obscure  window  at  St. 
James's  that  looked  into  a  dark  passage,  lighted  only  by  a  single 
lamp  at  night,  that  looked  upon  Mrs.  Howard's  apartment.  Lord 
Chesterfield,  one  Twelfth  Night  at  court,  had  won  so  large  a  sum 
of  money,  that  he  thought  it  not  prudent  to  carry  it  home  in  the 
dark,  and  dejwsited  it  with  the  mistress.  Tlience  the  queen  infer- 
red great  intimacy,  and  thenceforwards  Lord  Chesterfield  could 
obtain  no  favor  from  court ;  and,  finding  himself  desperate,  went 
into  opposition."  But  this  is  anticipating  events.  Let  us  speak 
of  the  other  bedchamber- woman  of  the  Princess  of  Wales,  and  sub- 
sequently of  Queen  Caroline,  who  was  also  a  woman  of  considera- 
ble note  in  the  quiet  and  princely  circle  at  Leicester  House,  and 
the  more  brilh'ant  reunions  at  St.  James's  and  Kensington.     She 


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LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


I 


I 


was  a  woman  of  fairer  reputation,  of  greater  ability,  and  of  worse 
temper  than  Mi*s.  Howard.  Her  maiden  name  was  Dyves,  her 
condition  was  of  a  humble  character,  but  her  marriage  with  Sir 
Robert  Clayton,  a  clerk  in  the  Treasury,  gave  her  imi)ortance  and 
position,  and  opportunity  to  improve  both.  Her  husband,  in  addi- 
tion to  his  Treasury  clerkship,  was  one  of  the  managei*s  of  the 
Mai-lborough  estates  in  the  duke's  absence,  and  this  brought  his 
wife  to  the  knowledge  and  patronage  of  tlie  duchess.  The  only 
favor  ever  asked  by  the  latter  of  the  House  of  Hanover,  was  a 
post  for  her  friend  Mrs.  Clayton,  who  soon  afterwards  was  appointed 
one  of  the  bedchamber-women  of  Caroline  Princess  of  Wales. 

Mrs.  Clayton  has  been  as  diversely  painted  by  Lord  Hervey 
and  Horace  Walpole,  as  Chesterfield  himself.  It  is  not  to  be  dis- 
puted, however,  that  she  was  a  woman  of  many  accomplishments, 
of  not  so  many  as  her  flatterers  ascribed  to  her,  but  of  more  than 
were  conceded  to  her  bv  her  enemies.  The  same  may  be  said  of 
her  alleged  virtues.  Wali)ole  describes  her  as  a  corrupt,  pompous 
simpleton,  and  Lord  Hervey  as  a  womjui  of  gi-eat  intelligence,  and 
rather  ill-regulated  temper,  the  latter  preventing  her  from  conceal- 
ing her  thoughts,  let  them  be  what  they  might.  The  noble  lord 
intimates,  rather  than  asserts,  tluit  she  was  more  resigned  than 
desirous  to  live  at  court,  for  the  dirty  company  of  which  she  was 
too  good,  but  whom  she  had  the  honesty  to  hate  but  not  the  hyj)oc- 
risy  to  tell  them  they  were  goml.  Hervey  adds  that  she  did  good, 
for  the  mere  luxury  which  the  exercise  of  the  virtue  had  in  itself. 
Others  describe  her  as  corrupt  as  the  meanest  courtier  that  ever 
lived  by  bribes.  She  would  take  jewels  with  both  hands,  and  wear 
them  without  shame,  though  they  were  the  fees  of  offices  perfoimed 
to  serve  others  and  enrich  herself.  The  Duchess  of  Marlborouirh 
was  ashamed  of  her  protegee  in  this  respect,  if  there  be  truth  in 
the  story  of  her  grace  being  indignant  at  seeing  Mrs.  Clayton 
wearing  gems  which  she  knew  were  the  price  of  services  rendered 
by  her.  Lady  AVortley  Montague  apologizes  for  her  by  the  smart 
remark,  that  people  would  not  know  where  wine  was  sold,  if  the 
vendor  did  not  hang  out  a  bush. 

Of  another  fact  there  is  no  dispute, — the  intense  hatred  with 
which  Mrs.  Howard  and  Mrs.  Clayton  regarded  each  other.     The 


CAROLINE   WILHELMINA    DOROTHEA. 


207 


former  was  calm,  cool,  cutting,  and  contemptuous — but  never  un- 
lady-like,  always  self-possessed  and  severe.     The  latter  was  hot, 
eager,  and  for  ever  rendering  her  position  untenable  for  want  of 
temper,  and  therefore  lack  of  argument  to  maintain  it.    Mrs.  Clay- 
ton, doubtless,  possessed  more  influence  with  the  queen  than  her 
opponent  with  the  king,  but  that  influence  has  been  vastly  over- 
rated.    Caroline  only  allowed  it  in  small  matters,  and  exercised  in 
small  ways.     I^Irs.  Clayton  was,  in  some  respects,  only  her  autho- 
rized representative,  or  the  medium  between  her  and  the  objects 
whom  she  delighted  to  relieve  or  to  honor.     The  lady  had  some 
influence  in  bringing  about  introductions,  in  directing  the  queen's 
notice  to  works  of  merit,  or  to  petitions  for  relief;  but  on  subjects 
of  much  higher  importance  Caroline  would  not  submit  to  influence 
from  the  same  quarter.     On  serious  questions  she  had  a  better 
judgment  of  her  own   than   she  could  be  supplied  with  by  the 
women  of  the  bedchamber.     The  great  power  held  by  Mrs.  Clay- 
ton was,  that  with  her  rested  to  decide  whether  the  prayer  of  a 
petitioner  should  or  should  not  reach  the  eye  of  Caroline.     No 
wonder,  then,  that  she  was  flattered,  and  that  her  good  offices  were 
asked  for  with  showers  of  praise  and  compliment  to  herself,  by 
favor-seekers  of  every  conceivable  class.     Peers  of  every  degree, 
and  their  wives,  bishops  and  poor  curates,  philosophers  well-to-do, 
and  authors  in  shreds  and  patches ;  sages  and  sciolists ;  inventors, 
speculators,  and  a  mob  of  "  beggars  "  that  cannot  be  classed,  sought 
to  approach  Caroline  through  Mrs.  Clayton's  office,  and  humbly 
waited  Mrs.  Clayton's  leisure,  while  they  profusely  flattered  her, 
in  order  to  tempt  her  to  be  active  in  their  behalf. 

Mrs.  Clayton,  despite  her  more  fiery  temper,  is  said  to  have 
been  a  "nicer"  woman  than  Mrs.  Howard.  It  must  be  remem- 
bered, however,  that  the  niceness  of  the  nice  people  of  this  period 
was  very  like  that  of  Mrs.  Mincemode,  in  Odingsell's  comedy  of 
"  The  Capricious  Lovers."  The  latter  is  something  akin  to  the 
delicate  lady  in  the  "  Precieuses  Ridicules,"  the  very  sight  of  a 
gentleman  makes  her  grow  sick,  so  indelicate  is  the  spectacle  ;  and 
she  refines  upon  the  significancy  of  phrases,  till  she  resolves  com- 
mon conversation  into  rank  offence  against  modesty. 

Caroline  not  only  ruled  her  husband  without  his  being  aware 


208 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


CAROLINE  WILHELMINA  DOROTHEA. 


209 


■ 


of  it,  but  could  laugh  at  him  heartily,  without  hurting  his  feelings 
by  allowing  him  to  be  conscious  of  it.  Hereafter  mention  may  be 
made  of  the  sensitiveness  of  the  court  to  satire ;  but  before  the 
death  of  George  I.,  it  seems  to  have  been  enjoyed,  at  least  by  Car- 
oline, Princess  of  Wales, — more  than  it  was  subsequently  by  the 
same  illustrious  lady,  when  Queen  of  England.  Dr.  Arbuthnot, 
at  the  period  alluded  to,  had  occasion  to  write  to  Swift.  The  Doc- 
tor had  been  publishing,  by  subscription,  his  *'  Tables  of  Ancient 
Coins,"  and  was  gaining  very  few  modem  specimens  by  his  work. 
The  dean,  on  the  other  hand,  was  then  reaping  a  harvest  of  profit 
and  popularity  by  his  '*  Gulliver's  Travels," — that  book  of  which 
the  puzzled  Bishop  of  Ferns  said,  on  coming  to  the  last  page,  that, 
all  things  considered,  he  did  not  believe  a  word  of  it ! 

Arbuthnot,  writing  to  Swift  on  the  subject  of  the  two  works, 
says  (8  Nov.  172G)  that  his  book  had  been  out  about  a  month,  but 
that  he  had  not  yet  got  his  subscribers'  names.  '*  I  will  make 
over,"  he  says,  "  all  my  profits  to  you,  for  the  property  of  '  Gulli- 
ver's Travels,'  which,  I  believe,  will  have  as  great  a  run  as  John 
Bunyan.  Gulliver  is  a  happy  man,  that,  at  his  age,  can  write  such 
a  book."  Arbuthnot  subsequently  relates,  that  when  he  last  saw 
the  Princess  of  Wales,  "  she  was  reading  Gulliver,  and  was  just 
come  to  the  passage  of  the  hobbling  prince,  which  she  laughed  at." 
The  laugh  was  at  the  cost  of  her  husband,  whom  Swift  represented 
in  the  satire  as  walking  with  one  high  and  low  heel,  in  allusion  to 
the  prince's  supposed  vacillation  between  the  Whigs  and  Tories. 

The  princess,  however,  had  more  regard,  at  all  times,  for  sages 
than  she  had  for  satirists.  It  was  at  the  request  of  Caroline  that 
Newton  drew  up  an  abstract  of  a  treatise  on  Ancient  Chronology, 
which  was  first  published  in  France,  and  subsequently  in  England. 
Her  regard  for  Ilalley  dates  from  an  earlier  period  than  Newton's 
death,  or  Caroline's  accession.  She  had  in  1721  pressed  Halley 
to  become  the  tutor  of  her  favorite  son,  the  Duke  of  Cumberland ; 
but  the  great  perfector  of  the  theory  of  the  moon's  motion  was  then 
too  busy  with  his  syzigies  to  be  troubled  with  teaching  the  liuman- 
ities  to  little  princes.  It  was  for  the  same  reason  that  Halley 
resigned  his  post  of  secretary  to  the  Royal  Society. 

This  Question  of  the  education  of  the  children  of  the  Prince  and 


Princess  of  Wales  was  one  which  was  much  discussed,  and  not 
without  bitterness,  by  the  disputants  on  both  sides.  In  the  same 
year  that  the  Princess  of  Wales  desired  to  secure  Halley  as  the 
instructor  of  William  of  Cumberland  (1721),  George  I.  made  an 
earl  of  that  Thomas  Parker,  who,  from  an  attorney's  office,  had 
steadily  risen  through  the  various  grades  of  the  law,  had  been 
entrusted  with  high  commissions,  and  finally  became  lord  chancel- 
lor. George  I.  on  his  accession  made  him  Baron  of  Macclesfield, 
and  in  1721  raised  him  to  the  rank  of  earl.  He  paid  for  the  honor 
by  supporting  the  king  against  the  Prince  and  Princess  of  Wales. 
The  latter  claimed  an  exclusive  right  of  direction  in  the  education 
of  their  children.  Lord  Macclesfield  declared  that,  by  law^,  they 
had  no  right  at  all  to  control  the  education  of  their  offspring. 
Neither  prince  nor  princess  ever  forgave  him  for  this.  They 
waited  for  the  hour  of  repaying  it ;  and  the  time  soon  came.  In 
two  or  three  years,  to  Macclesfield  might  almost  have  been  applied 
the  words  of  Pope : — 

If  parts  allure  thee,  think  how  Bacon  shined. 
The  wisest,  brightest,  meanest  of  mankind. 

The  first  "  Brunswick  chancellor"  became  notorious  for  his  mal- 
practices— selling  places,  and  trafficking  with  the  funds  of  the 
suitors.  His  enemies  resolved  to  impeach  him,  and  this  resolution 
originated  at  Leicester  House,  and  was  can-ied  out  with  such  effect 
that  the  chancellor  was  condemned  to  pay  a  fine  of  30,000/. 
George  I.  knowing  that  the  son  whom  he  hated  was  the  cause  of 
so  grave,  but  just,  a  consequence,  promised  to  repay  the  ex-chan- 
cellor the  amount  of  the  fine  which  Lord  Macclesfield  had  himself 
paid,  a  few  days  after  the  sentence,  by  the  mortgage  of  a  valuable 
estate.  The  king,  however,  was  rather  slow  in  acquitting  himself 
of  his  promise.  He  forwarded  one  instalment  of  1000/.,  but  he  paid 
no  more,  death  supervening  and  preventing  the  farther  performance 
of  a  promise  only  made  to  annoy  his  son  and  his  son's  wife. 

In  one  respect  Lord  Macclesfield  and  the  Princess  of  Wales 
resembled  each  other, — in  entertaining  a  curious  feeling  of  super- 
stition. It  will  be  seen,  hereafter,  how  certain  Caroline  felt  that 
she  should  die  on  a  Wednesday,  and  for  what  reasons.     So,  like 


210 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS   OF  ENGLAND. 


.CAROLINE   WILHELMINA    DOROTHEA. 


211 


her,  but  with  more  accuracy,  the  fallen  Macclesfield  pointed  out 
the  day  for  his  decease.     In  his  disgrace  he  had  devoted  himself 
to  science  and  religion.     He  was,  however,  distracted  by  a  malady 
which  was  aggravated  by  grief,  if  not  remorse.     Dr.  Pearce,  his 
constant  friend,  called  on  him  one  day,  and  found  him  very  ill. 
Lord  Macclesfield  said  :  "  My  mother  died  of  the  same  disorder  on 
the  eighth  day,  and  so  shall  I."     On  the  eighth  day  this  prophecy 
was  fulfilled ;  and  the  Leicester  House  party  were  fully  avenged. 
The  feelings  of  both  prince  and  princess  were  forever  in  excess. 
Thus  both    appear  to    have    entertained   a   strong   sentiment  of 
aversion  against  their  eldest  child,  Frederick.     Caroline  did  not 
bring  him  with  her  to  this  country  when  she  herself  first  came  over 
to  take  up  her  residence  here.     Frederick  was  bom  at  Hanover,  on 
the  20th  January,  1707.     He  was  early  instructed  in  the  English 
language  ;  but  he  dishked  study  of  every  description,  and  made  but 
little    progress   in   this   particular   branch.     As   a  child  he   was 
remarkable  for  his  spitefulness  and  cunning.     He  was  yet  a  youth 
when  he  drank  like  any  German  baron  of  old,  played  as  deeply  as 
he  drank,  and  entered  heart  and  soul  into  other  vices,  which  not 
only  corrupted  both,  but  his  body  also.     His  tutor  was  scandalized 
by  his  conduct,  and  com])lained  of  it  grievously.     Caroline  was,  at 
that  time,  given  to  find  excuses  for  a  conduct  with  which  she  did 
not  care  to  be  so  lar  troubled  as  to  censure  it  ;  and  she  remarked, 
that  the  escapades  complained  of  were  mere  page's  tricks.  "  Would 
to  Heaven,  they  were  no  more!'  exclaimed  the  worthy  governor; 
"but  in  truth  they  are  tricks  of  grooms  and  scoundreTs."     The 
prince  spared  his  friends  as  little  as  his  foes,  and  his  heart  was  as 
vicious  as  his  head  was  weak. 

Caroline  had  little  aflfection  for  this  child,  whom  she  would  have 
willingly  defrauded  of  his  birth-right.  At  one  time  she  appears  to 
have  been  inclined  to  secure  the  electorate  of  Hanover  for  William, 
and  to  allow  Frederick  to  succeed  to  the  English  throne.  At 
another  aime,  she  was  a^  desirous,  it  is  believed,  of  advancing 
William  to  the  crown  of  England,  and  making  over  the  electorate 
to  Frederick.  How  far  these  intrigues  were  carried  on  is  hardly 
known,  but  that  they  existed  is  matter  of  notoriety.  The  law  pre- 
sented a  barrier  which  could  not,  however,  be  broken  down  ;  but. 


4^ 


nevertheless.  Lord  Chesterfield,  in  his  character  of  the  princess, 
intimated  that  she  was  busy  with  this  project  throughout  her  life. 

Frederick  was  not  permitted  to  come  to  England  during  any 
period  of  the  time  that  his  parents  were  Prince  and  Princess  of 
Wales.  An  English  title  or  two  may  be  said  to  have  been  flung 
to  him  across  the  water.  Thus,  in  1717,  he  was  created  Duke  of 
Gloucester,  and  the  Garter  was  sent  to  him  the  following  year.  In 
I72G  he  became  Duke  of  Edinburgh.  He  never  occupied  a  place 
in  the  hearts  of  either  his  father  or  mother. 

It  is  but  fair  to  the  character  of  the  Princess  of  Wales,  to  say 
that,  severe  as  wjis  the  feeling  entertained  by  herself  against  Lord 
Macclesfield, — a  feeling  shared  in  by  her  consort,  neither  of  them 
ever  after  entertained  any  ill  feeling  against  Philip  Yorke,  subse- 
quently Lord  Chancellor  Hard  wicke,  who  defended  his  friend  Lord 
Macclesfied,  with  great  fearlessness,  at  the  period  of  his  celebrated 
trial.  Only  once,  in  after  life,  did  George  II.  visit  Lord  Hard- 
wicke  with  a  severe  rebuflf.  The  learned  lord  was  avaricious,  dis- 
couraging to  those  who  sought  to  rise  in  their  profession,  and 
caring  only  for  the  advancement  of  his  own  relations.  He  was 
once  seeking  for  a  place  for  a  distant  relation,  when  the  husband 
of  Caroline  exclaimed,  "  You  are  always  asking  favors,  and  I  ob- 
serve that  it  is  invariably  in  behalf  of  some  one  of  your  family  or 
kinsmen."  We  shall  hereafter  find  Caroline  making  allusions  to 
**  Judge  Gripus,"  as  a  character  in  a  play,  but  it  was  a  name  given 
to  Lord  Hardwicke,  on  account  of  his  "  meanness."  This  feeling 
was  shared  by  his  wife.  The  expensively  embroidered  velvet 
purse  in  which  the  great  seal  is  carried  was  renewed  every  year 
during  Lord  Hardwicke's  time.  Each  year.  Lady  Hardwicke 
ordered  that  the  velvet  should  be  of  the  length  of  one  of  her  state 
rooms  at  Wimpole.  In  course  of  time,  the  prudent  lady  obtained 
enough  to  ta[)estry  the  room  with  the  legal  velvet,  and  to  make 
curtains  and  hangings  for  a  state  bed,  which  stood  in  the  apart- 
ment.    Well  might  Pope  have  said  of  these : — 

Is  yellow  dirt  the  passion  of  thy  life  1 
Look  but  on  Gripus  and  on  Gripus'  wife. 

But  this  is  again  anticipating  the  events  of  history.     Let  us  go 


212 


LIVES   OF   THE   QUEENS   OF   ENGLAND. 


back  to  1721,  when  Caroline  and  her  husband  exercised  a 
courage  which  caused  great  admiration  in  the  saloons  of  Leicester 
House,  and  a  doubtful  sort  of  applause  tliroughout  the  country. 
Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montague  had  just  reported  the  successful 
results  of  inoculation  for  the  small-pox,  which  she  had  witnessed 
at  Constantinople.  Dr.  Mead  was  ordered  by  the  prince  to  inocu- 
late six  criminals  who  had  been  condemned  to  death,  but  whose 
lives  were  spared  for  this  experiment.  It  succeeded  admirably, 
and  the  patients  were  more  satisfied  by  the  result  of  the  experi- 
ment than  any  one  besides.  In  the  year  following,  Caroline 
allowed  Dr.  Mead  to  inoculate  her  two  daughters,  and  the  doctor 
ultimately  became  physician-in-ordinary  to  her  husband. 

The  medical  appointments  made  by  Caroline  and  her  husband 
certainly  had  a  political  motive.  Thus,  the  Princess  of  Wales  per- 
suaded her  husband  to  name  Friend  his  physician-in-ordinary, 
just  after  the  latter  had  been  liberated  from  the  Tower,  where  he 
had  suffered  incarceration  for  daring  to  defend  Atterburj-  in  the 
House  of  Commons,  when  the  bishop  was  accused  of  being  guilty 
of  treason.  Caroline  always  had  a  high  esteem  for  Friend,  inde- 
pendently of  his  political  opinions,  and  one  of  her  first  acts,  on 
ceasing  to  be  Princess  of  Wales,  was  to  make  Friend  physician  to 
the  queen. 

It  is  said  by  Swift  that  the  Princess  of  Wales  sent  for  him  to 
Leicester  Fields,  no  less  than  nine  times,  before  he  would  obey 
the  reiterated  summons.  When  he  did  appear  before  Caroline, 
he  roughly  remarked  that  he  understood  she  liked  to  see  odd 
persons;  that  she  had  lately  inspected  a  wild  boy  from  Gennany, 
and  that  now  she  had  the  opportunity  of  seeing  a  wild  parson 
from  Ireland.  Swift  declares  that  the  court  in  Leicester  Fields 
was  very  anxious  to  settle  him  in  England,  but  it  may  be  doubted 
whether  the  anxiety  was  very  sincere.  Swift's  declaration  that 
he  had  no  anxiety  to  be  patronized  by  the  Princess  of  Wales,  was 
probably  as  little  sincere.  The  patronage  sometimes  exercised 
there  was  mercilessly  sneei*ed  at  by  Swift.  Thus  Caroline  had 
expressed  a  desire  to  do  honor  to  Gay,  but  when  the  post  offered 
was  only  that  of  a  gentleman  usher  to  the  little  Princess  Caroline, 
Swifl  was  bitterly  satirical  on  the  Princess  of  Wales  supposing 


CAROLINE   WILHELMINA    DOROTHEA. 


213 


that  the  poet  Gay  would  be  willing  to  act  as  a  sort  of  male  nurse 
to  a  little  girl  of  two  years  of  age. 

The  Prince  of  Wales,  was  occasionally  as  cavalierly  treated  by 
the  ladies  as  the  princess  by  the  men.  One  of  the  maids  of  honor 
of  Caroline,  the  well-known  Miss  Bellenden,  would  boldly  stand 
before  him  with  her  arms  folded,  and  when  a^sked  why  she  did  so, 
would  toss  her  pretty  head,  and  laughingly  exclaim  that  she  did 
so,  not  because  she  was  cold,  but  that  she  chose  to  stand  with  her 
arms  folded.  When  her  own  niece  became  maid  of  honor  to 
Queen  Caroline,  and  audacious  Miss  Bellenden  was  a  grave 
married  lady,  she  instructively  warned  her  young  relative  not  to 
be  so  imprudent  a  maid  of  honor  as  her  aunt  had  been  before  her. 

But  strange  things  were  done  by  princes  and  princesses  in 
those  days,  as  well  as  by  those  who  waited  on  them.  For  in- 
stance, in  1725,  it  is  recorded  by  Miss  Dyves,  maid  of  honor  to 
the  Princess  Amelia,  daughter  of  the  Princess  of  Wales,  that  "  the 
prince,  and  eveiybody  but  myself,  went  last  Friday  to  Bartholomew 
Fair.  It  was  a  fine  day,  so  he  went  by  water ;  and  I,  being  afraid, 
did  not  go;  after. the  fair,  they  supped  at  the  King's  Arms,  and 
came  home  about  four  o'clock  in  the  morning."  An  heir-appa- 
rent, and  part  of  his  family  and  consort,  going  by  water  from 
Kichmond  to  '*  Bartlemy  Fair,"  snipping  at  a  tavern,  staying  out 
all  night,  and  returning  home  not  long  before  honest  men  break- 
fasted,— was  not  calculated  to  make  royalty  resoectable. 


CHAPTER  n. 


THE   FIRST    YEARS    OF    A   REIGN. 

Sir  Robert  Walpole  was  sojourning  at  Chelsea,  and  think- 
ing of  nothing  less  than  the  demise  of  a  king,  when  news  was 
brought  him,  by  a  messenger  from  Lord  Townshend,  at  three 
o'clock  in  the  aftenioon  of  June  14,  1727,  that  his  late  most 
sacred  majesty  was  then  lying  dead  in  the  Wesphalian  palace  of 
his  serene  highness  the  Bishop  of  Osnaburgh.  Sir  Robert  imme- 
diately hurried  to  Richmond,  in  order  to  be  the  first  to  do  homage 


214 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


to  the  new  sovereigns,  George  and  Caroline.  George  aecepted 
*the  homage  with  much  complacency,  and  on  being  asked  by  Sir 
Robert  as  to  the  person  whom  the  king  would  select  to  draw  up 
the  usual  address  to  the  privy  council,  George  II.  mentioned  the 
speaker  of  the  House  of  Commons,  Sir  Spenser  Compton. 

This  was  a  civil  way  of  telling  Sir  Robert  that  his  services  as 
prime  minister  were  no  longer  required.  He  was  not  pleased  at 
being  supplanted,  but  neither  was  he  wrathfully  little-minded 
against  his  successor, — a  successor  so  incompetent  for  his  task  that 
he  was  obliged  to  have  recourse  to  Sir  Robert  to  assist  him  in 
drawing  up  the  address  above  alluded  to.  Sir  Robert  rendered 
the  assistance  with  much  heartiness,  but  was  not  the  less  deter- 
mined, if  possible,  to  retain  his  office,  in  spite  of  the  personal 
dislike  of  the  king,  and  of  that  of  the  queen,  whom  he  had  offended, 
when  she  was  Princess  of  Wales,  by  speaking  of  her  as  "  that  fat 
beast,  the  prince's  wife."  Sir  Robert  could  easily  make  poor  Sir 
Spenser  communicative  with  regard  to  his  future  intentions.  The 
latter  was  a  stiff,  gossiping,  soft-hearted  creature,  and  might  very 
well  have  taken  for  his  motto  the  words  of  Parmeno  in  the  play 
of  Terence  : — **  Plenus  rimarum  sum."  He  hitimated  that  on 
first  meeting  parliament  he  should  propose  an  allowance  of 
60,000/.  per  annum  to  be  made  to  the  queen.  '*  I  will  make  it 
40,000/.  more,"  said  Sir  Robert,  subsequently,  through  a  second 
party,  to  Queen  Caroline,  "  if  my  office  of  minister  be  secured  to 
me."  Caroline  was  delighted  at  the  idea,  intimated  that  Sir  Ro- 
bert might  be  sure**  the  fat  bea<t"  had  friendly  feelings  towards 
him,  and  then  hastening  to  the  king,  over  whose  weaker  intellect 
her  more  masculine  mind  held  rule,  exjilained  to  her  royal  hus- 
band that,  as  Compton  considered  AValpole  the  fittest  man  to  be, 
what  he  had  so  long  been  with  efficiency, — prime  minister,  it 
would  be  a  foolish  act  to  nominate  Compton  himself  to  the  office. 
The  king  acquiesced.  Sir  Spenser  was  made  president  of  the 
council,  and  Sir  Robert  not  only  persuaded  parliament,  without 
difficulty,  to  settle  one  hundred  thousand  a  year  on  the  queen,  but 
he  also  persuaded  the  august  trustees  of  the  people's  money  to  add 
the  entire  revenue  of  the  civil  list,  about  one  hundred  and  thirty 
thousand  pounds  a  year,  to  the  annual  sum  of  seven  hundred 


I 


> 


4» 


CAROLINE   WILHELMINA    DOROTHEA. 


215 


thousand  pounds,  which  had  been  settled  as  the  proper  revenue 
for  a  king.  Sir  Robert  had  thus  the  wit  to  bribe  king  and  queen, 
out  of  the  funds  of  the  people,  and  we  cannot  be  surprised  that 
their  majesties  looked  upon  him  and  his  as  true  allies.  Indeed 
Caroline  did  not  wait  for  the  success  of  the  measure  in  order  to 
show  her  confidence  in  Walpole.  Their  majesties  had  removed 
from  Richmond  to  their  temporary  palace  in  Leicester  Fields,  on 
the  very  evening  of  their  receiving  notice  of  their  accession  to  the 
crown ;  and  the  next  day  all  the  nobility  and  gentry  in  town 
crowded  to  kiss  their  hands ;  "  my  mother,'  says  Horace  Walpole, 
"  among  the  rest,  who.  Sir  Spenser  Compton's  designation  and  not 
his  evaporation  being  known,  could  not  make  her  way  between 
the  scornful  backs  and  elbows  of  her  late  devotees,  nor  could 
approach  nearer  to  the  queen  than  the  third  or  fourth  row  ;  but 
no  sooner  was  she  descried  by  her  majesty  than  the  queen  said 
aloud  :  '  There  I  am  sure  I  see  a  friend ! '  The  torrent  divided 
and  shrank  to  either  side,  '  and  as  I  came  away,*  said  my  mother, 
*  I  might  have  walked  over  their  heads,  had  I  pleased.' " 

When  Louis  XIV.,  perhaps  not  without  some  surprise,  found 
that  his  "  gi-andeur"  did  not  confer  upon  him  the  benefit  hinted  at 
in  the  sermon  of  a  court  chaplain,  to  the  effect  that  "  all  men, — 
that  is,  almost  all  men — must  die  I "  he  at  least  comforted  himself 
with  one  consideration,  namely,  that  he  had  placed  his  illegitimate 
children  in  the  line  of  succession  to  the  throne,  and  that  of  course 
this,  his  will,  made  when  living,  would  be  respected  after  he 
should  be  dead.  But  the  ass  in  the  fable  was  not  more  ecomful 
of  the  sick  lion  than  the  French  people  were  of  the  dead  king. 
No  sooner  was  he  fairly  entombed  in  the  vaults  of  St.  Denis,  than 
his  will  was  quashed  with  as  little  ceremony  as  if  it  had  been  a 
fraudulent  document, — as  indeed  it  was,  the  fraud  of  a  king  who 
thought  he  could  overturn  law  as  he  lay  in  the  grave.  Generally 
speaking,  the  "wills"  of  despots  are  antagonistic  to  despotism; 
but  the  last  testament  of  Louis  would  have  made  of  the  French 
people  the  slaves  of  a  despot  dead  and  disembowelled. 

George  I.  does  not  appear  to  have  remembered  the  instruction 
which  he  might  have  drawn  from  the  circumstance  of  the  quashing 
of  the  will  of  so  irresponsible  a  monarch  as  Louis  XIV.     He 


I 


216 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGIAND. 


CAROLINE   WILHELMIN'A    DOROTHEA. 


217 


calmly  drew  up  a  will  which  he  coolly  thought  his  successor  would 
respect.  Perhaps  he  remembered  that  his  son  believed  in  ghosts 
and  vampires,  and  would  fulfil  a  dead  man's  will  out  of  mere 
terror  of  a  dead  man's  visitation.  But  George  Augustus  had  no 
such  fear,  nor  any  such  respect  as  that  noticed  above. 

At  the  first  council  held  by  George  II.,  Dr.  Wake,  Archbishop 
of  Canterbury,  in  whose  hands  George  I.  had  deposited  his  last 
will  and  testament,  produced  that  precious  instrument,  placed  it 
before  the  king,  and  composed  himself  to  hear  the  instructions  of 
the  deceased  parent  recited  by  his  heir.  The  new  king,  however, 
put  the  paper  in  his  pocket,  walked  out  of  the  i*oom,  never  uttered 
a  word  more  upon  the  subject,  and  general  rumor  subsequently 
proclaimed  that  the  royal  will  had  been  dropped  into  the  fire  by 
the  testator's  son. 

That  testator,  however,  had  been  a  destroyer  of  wills  himself; 
he  had  burnt  that  of  the  poor  old  Duke  of  Zell,  and  he  had  treated 
in  like  manner,  the  last  will  of  Sophia  Dorothea.  The  latter 
document  favored  both  his  children  more  than  he  approved,  and 
the  king,  who  could  do  no  wrong,  committed  a  felonious  act,  which 
for  a  common  criminal  would  have  purchased  a  halter.  Being 
given  to  this  sort  of  iniquity  himself,  he  naturally  thought  ill  of 
the  heir  whom  he  looked  upon  as  bound  to  respect  the  will  of  his 
father.  To  bind  him  the  more  securely  to  such  observance,  he 
left  two  duplicates  of  his  will ;  one  of  which  was  deposited  with 
the  Duke  of  Wulfenbuttel,  the  other  with  imother  German  prince, 
whose  name  has  not  been  reveided,  and  both  were  given  up  by 
the  depositaries,  for  fee  and  reward  duly  paid  for  the  sen'ice. 
The  copies  were  destroyed  in  the  same  way  as  the  original.  What 
instruction  was  set  down  in  this  document  has  never  been  ascer- 
tained. Walpole  speaks  of  a  reported  legacy  of  forty  thousand 
pounds  to  the  king's  surviving  mistress,  the  Duchess  of  Kendal, 
and  of  a  subsequent  compromise  made  with  the  husband  of  the 
duchess's  "  niece "  and  heiress.  Lady  Wal^ingham  ; — a  compro- 
mise which  followed  upon  a  threatened  action  at  law.  Something 
similar  is  said  to  have  taken  place  with  the  King  of  Prussia,  to 
whose  wife,  the  daughter  of  George  I.,  the  latter  monarch  was 
reported  to  liave  bequeathed  a  considerable  legacy. 


However  this  may  be,  the  surprise  of  the  council  and  the  con- 
sternation of  the  primate  were  excessive.  The  latter  dignitary 
was  the  last  man,  however,  who  could  with  propriety  have  blamed 
a  fellow  man  for  acting  contrary  to  what  was  expected  of  him. 
He  himself  had  been  the  warmest  advocate  of  religious  toleration, 
until  he  reached  the  primacy,  and  had  an  opportunity  for  the 
exercise  of  a  little  harshness  towards  dissenters.  The  latter  were 
as  much  astonished  at  their  ex-advocate  as  the  latter  was  as- 
tounded by  the  act  of  the  king. 

We  will  not  further  allude  to  the  coronation  of  George  and 
Caroline  than  by  saying  that,  on  the  occasion  in  question,  these 
sovereigns  displayed  a  gorgeousness  of  taste,  of  a  somewhat  bar- 
barous quality.  The  coronation  was  the  most  splendid  that  had 
been  seen  for  years.  George,  despite  his  low  stature  and  fair  hair 
which  heightened  the  weakness  of  his  expression  at  this  period, 
was  said  to  be,  on  this  occasion,  "  every  inch  a  king."  He  enjoyed 
the  splendor  of  the  scene  and  of  himself,  and  thought  it  cheaply 
purchased  at  the  cost  of  much  fatijnie. 

Caroline  was  not  inferior  to  her  lord.     It  is  true  that  of  crown 
jewels  she  liad  none,  save  a  peari  necklace,  the  soHtary  spoil  left 
of  all  the  gems,  « rich  and  rare,"  which  had  belonged  to  Queen 
Anne,  and  which  had,  fur  the  most  part,  been  distributed  by  the 
late  king  among  his  favorites  of  every  degree.     Had  his  daughter, 
the  Queen  of  Prussia,  been  among  those  for  whom  he  affected 
some  attachment,  it  is  possible  that  a  few  rehcs  of  the  crown,  or 
rather  national,  property,  might  yet  be  found  among  the  treasures 
of  Berlin.     However  this  may  be,  Caroline  wore,  on  the  occasion 
of  her  crowning,  not  only  the  peari  necklace  of  Queen  Anne,  but 
"  she  had  on  her  head  and  shoulders  all  the  pearls  and  necklaces 
which  she  could  borrow  from  the  ladies  of  quality  at  one  end  of 
the  town,  and  on  her  petticoat  all  the  diamonds  she  could  hire  of  the 
Jews  and  jewellers  at  the  other;  so,"  adds  Lord  Hervey,  from  whom 
this  detail  is  taken,  "  the  appearance  and  the  truth  of  her  fineiy 
was  a  mixture  of  magnificence  and  meanness,  not  unlike  the  eclat 
of  royalty  in  many  other  particulars,  when  it  comes  to  be  nicely 
examined,  and  its  sources  traced  to  what  money  hires  and  flattery 
lends."  ^ 

Vol.  I. — 10 


218 


LIVES   OF  THE   QUEENS  OF   ENGf.AND. 


CAROLINE  WILHELMINA  DOROTHEA. 


219 


The  queen  dressed  for  the  grand  ceremony  in  a  private  room 
at  AVestminster.  Early  in  the  morning,  she  put  on  "an  undress" 
at  St.  James's,  of  which  we  are  interestingly  told  that  "  every- 
thing was  new."  She  was  carried  across  St.  James's  Park  pri- 
vately in  a  chair,  bearing  no  distinctive  mark  upon  it,  and  preceded 
at  a  short  distance,  by  the  Lord  Chancellor  and  Mrs.  Howard, 
both  of  whom  were  in  "  hack  sedans."  She  was  dressed  by  that 
lady.  Mrs.  Herbert,  another  bedchamber  woman,  would  fain 
have  shared  in  the  honor,  but  as  she  was  herself  in  full  dress  for 
the  ceremony,  she  was  pronounced  incapable  of  attiring  her  who 
was  to  be  the  heroine  of  it.  At  the  conclusion  of  the  august  affair, 
the  queen  unrobed  in  an  adjacent  apartment,  and,  as  in  the  morn- 
ing, was  smuggled  back  to  St.  James's  in  a  private  chair. 

Magnificent  as  Caroline  was  in  borrowed  finery  at  her  corona- 
tion, she  was  excelled,  in  point  of  show,  by  Mi-s.  Oldfield,  on  the 
stage  at  Drury  Lane.  The  theatre  was  closed  on  the  night  of  the 
real  event.  The  goveniment  had  no  idea  then  of  dividing  a  mul- 
titude, but  the  management  expended  a  thoustmd  pounds  in  getting 
up  the  pageant  of  the  crowning  of  Anne  Boleyn,  at  Uie  close  of 
"  Henry  VIII."  In  this  piece,  Booth  made  Henry  the  principal 
character,  and  Cibber's  Wolsey  sank  to  a  second-rate  part.  The 
pageant,  however,  was  so  attractive,  that  it  was  often  played,  de- 
tached from  the  piece,  at  the  conclusion  of  a  comedy,  or  any  other 
j^lay.  Caroline  went  more  than  once  with  her  royal  consort  to 
witness  this  representation,  an  honor  which  was  refused  to  the  more 
vulgar  show,  which  had  but  indifterent  success,  at  Lincoln's-Inn- 
Fields.  Were  there  "  cause  and  consequence"  in  these  facts,  and 
in  the  subsequent  refusal  of  Cibber  to  accept  the  Beggars^  Opera, 
and  the  eager  reception  by  Rich  of  the  same  piece,  which  was 
afterwards  represented  to  the  great  annoyance  of  court  and  cabinet, 
allegedly  satirized  therein  ? 

The  king's  revenue,  as  settled  upon  him  by  the  Whig  parliament, 
was  larger  than  any  of  our  kings  had  before  enjoyed.  Caroline's 
jointure,  100,000/.  a  year,  with  Somerset  House  and  Richmond 
Lodge,  was  double  that  which  had  been  granted  previously  to  any 
queen.  This  success  had  been  so  notoriously  the  result  of  Walpole's 
exertions,  that  the  husband  of  Caroline,  who  dealt  in  very  strong 


terms,   began   to   Icok   complacently  on  the  "  rogue  and  rascal," 
thought  his  brother  Horace,  bearable,  in  spite  of  his  being,  as  George 
used  to  call  him,  "  scoundrel,"  "  fool,"  and  "  dirty  buffoon,"  and  he 
even  felt  less  averse  than  usual  to  the  two  secretaries  of  state,  of 
Walpole's  administration,  the  Duke  of  Newcastle,  the  "impertinent 
fool,"  whom  he  had  threatened  at  the  christening  of  William  Duke 
of  Cumberland ;  and   Lord   Townshend,   whom   he  was  wont  to 
designate  as  a  "  choleric  blockhead."     The  issue  of  the  affair  was, 
that  of  Walpole's  cabinet,  no  one  went  out  but  the  minister's  son- 
in-law, — Lord  INIalpas,  roughly  ejected  from  the  Mastership  of  the 
Robes,  and  "  Stinking  Yonge,"  as  the  king  used  elegantly  to  desig- 
nate   Sir   William,  who    was    turned   out  of  the   Commission  of 
Treasury,  and  whose  sole  little  failings  were,  that  he  was  "  pitiful, 
corrupt,  contemptible,  and  a  great  liar,"  though,  as  Lord  Hervey 
says,  "  rather  a  mean  than  a  vicious  one,"  which  does  not  seem  to 
me  to  mend  the  matter,  and  which  is  a  distinction  without  a  differ- 
ence.    After  all,  "  Stinking  Yonge"  only  dived  to  come  up  fresh 
again.     And  Lord  Malpas  performed  the  same  feat. 

Henceforth,  it  was  understood  by  every  lady,  says  Lord  Hervey, 
"  that  Sir  Robert  was  the  queen's  minister ;  that  whoever  he  fa- 
vored she  distinguished,  and  whoever  she  distinguished  the  king 
employed."     The  queen  ruled,  without  seeming  to  rule.     She  was 
mistress  by  \)o\\qv  of  suggestion.     A  word  from  her  in  public,  ad- 
dressed to  tiie  king,  generally '  earned  for  her  a  rebuke.     Her 
consort  so  pertinaciously  declared  that  he  was  independent,  and 
tluU  she  never  meddled  with  public  business  of  any  kind,  that  every 
one,  eveti  the  early  dupes  of  the  assertion,  ceased  at  last  to  put  any 
faith  in  it.     Caroline  "  not  only  meddled  with  businessj  but  directed 
everything  that  came  under  that  name,  either  at  home  or  abroad." 
It  is  too  muclj,  perhaps,  to  say  that  her  power  was  unrivalled  and 
unbounded,  but  it  was  doubtless  great,  and  purchased  at  great  cost. 
That  she  could  induce  her  husband  to  employ  a  man  whom  he  had 
not  yet  learned  to  like,  was  in  itself  no  small  proof  of  her  power, 
considering  the  peculiarly  obstinate  disposition  of  the  monarch. 

Her  recommendation  of  AYalpole  was  not  based,  it  is  believed, 
upon  any  very  exalted  motives.  Walpole  himself,  in  his  oflicial 
connections  with  the  sovereign,  was  certainly  likely  to  take  every 


>'. 


220 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


advantage  of  the  opportunity  to  create  favorable  convictions  of  his 
ability.  CaroUne,  in  praising  his  ability  to  the  king,  suggested 
that  Sir  Robert  was  rich  enough  to  be  honest,  and  had  to  little 
private  business  of  his  own,  that  he  had  all  the  more  leisure  to 
devote  to  that  of  the  king.  «  New  leeches  would  be  not  the  less 
hungry;"  and  with  this  very  indifferent  sort  of  testimony  to  her 
favorite's  worth  Caroline  secured  a  servant  for  the  kinrr,  and  a 
minister  for  herself.  ° 

The  tact  of  the  queen  was  so  admirable,  that  the  husband,  who 
followed  her  counsel  in  all  things,  never  even  himself  suspected 
but  that  he  was  leading  her.     This  was  the  very  triumph  of  the 
queen's  art,  and  the  crowning  proof  of  the  simplicity  and  silliness 
of  the  kmg.     It  is  said  that  he  sneered  at  Charles  I.  for  being  gov- 
erned by  his  wife ;  at  Charies  U.  for  being  governed  by  his  mis- 
tresses ;  at  James  led  by  priests ;  at  William  duped  by  men ;  at 
Queen  Anne  deceived  by  her  favorites ;  and  at  his  father,  who 
aJlowed  himself  to  be  ruled  by  any.  one  who  could  approach  him. 
And  he  finished  his  catalogue  of  scorn  by  proudly  asking,  "  Who 
governs  now  ?"    The  courtiers  probably  smiled  behind  their  jaunty 
hats.     The  wits,  and  some  of  them  were  courtiers  too,  answered 
the  query  more  roughly,  and  they  remarked,  in  rugged  rhyme  and 
bad  grammar — 

You  may  strut,  dapper  George,  but  'twill  all  be  in  vain ; 
We  know  'tis  Queen  Caroline,  not  you  that  reign— 
You  govern  no  more  than  Don  Philip  of  Spain.° 
Then  if  you  would  have  us  fall  down  and  adore  you, 
Lock  up  your  fat  spouse,  as  your  dad  did  before  you. 

The  two  were  otherwise  described  by  other  poetasters,  as— 
So  strutting  a  king  and  so  prating  a  queen. 

It  ia  a  fact,  at  which  we  need  not  be  surprised,  that  the  most 
cutting  satires  against  the  king,  as  led  by  his  wife,  were  from  the 
pens  of  female  writers,— or  said  to  be  so.  And  this  is  likely 
enough ;  for  in  no  quarter  is  there  so  much  contempt  for  a  man 
who  leans  upon,  rather  than  supports,  his  wife.  The  court  cer- 
tainly offered  good  opportunity  for  the  satirists  to  make  merry 
with.     It  IS  said  of  the  court  of  Anne  of  Brittany,  the  wife  of  two 


CAROLINE  WILHELMINA  DOROTHEA. 


221 


kings  of  France,  Charies  VIIL  and  Louis  XII.,  that  it  vTas  so 
renowned  for  the  perfection  of  its  morality  and  correctness  of  con- 
duct, that  to  gain  a  bride  from  amongst  the  young  ladies  who  com- 
posed the  suite  of  the  queen,  was  the  object  of  ambition  with  aU 
the  nobles  of  the  time,  and  to  be  permitted  to  place  their  daughters 
under  her  eye,  was  the  most  anxious  wish  of  aU  the  mothers  who 
desired  to  see  them  respected  and  admired.     The  court  of  Caro- 
line, it  muswbe  confessed,  was  far  beneath  the  high  standard  of 
that  of  the  lady  who  brought  the  duchy  of  Brittany  with  her  as  a 
dowry  to  France.     There  was  not  much  female  delicacy  in  it,  and 
still  less  manly  dignity,— even  in  the  presence  of  the  queen  herself. 
Thus  we  hear,  for  instance,  of  Caroline,  one  evening,  at  Windsor, 
asking  Sir  Robert  Walpole  and  Lord  Townshend  where  they  had 
dined  that  day  ?     My  lord  replied  that  he  had  dined  with  lord  and 
lady  Trevor,  an  aged  couple,  and  the  lady  remarkable  for  her 
more  than  ordinary  plainness.     Whereupon  Sir  Robert,  with  con- 
siderable latitude  of  expression,  intimated,  jokingly,  that  his  friend 
was  paying  political  court  to  the  lord,  in  order  to  veil  a  court  of 
another  kind  addressed  to  the  lady.     Lord  Townshend,  not  under- 
standing  raillery  on  such  a  topic,  grew  angry,  and,  in  defending 
himself  against  the  charge  of  seducing  old  Lady  Trevor,  was  not 
content  with  employing  phrases  of  honest  indignation  alone,  but 
used  illustrations  that  no  ''lord"  would  ever  think  of  using  before 
a  lady.     Caroline  grew  uneasy,  not  at  the  growing  indelicacy  of 
phnise,  but  at  the  angry  feelings  of  the  Peachum  and  Lockit  of 
the  Court :  and  "  to  prevent  Lord  Townshend's  replying,  or  the 
thing  being  pushed  any  further,  only  laughed,  and  began  immedi- 
ately to  talk  on  some  other  subject."  * 

The  mention  of  tlie  heroes  in  Gay's  opera  serves  to  remind  me 
that,  hi  1729,  the  influence  of  the  queen  was  again  exerted  to  lead 
the  king  to  do  what  he  had  not  himself  dreamed  of  doing. 

Sir  Robert  Walpole  must  have  been  more  "  thm-skinned "  than 
he  is  usually  believed  to  have  been,  if  he  could  really  have  felt 
wounded,  as  it  would  appear  was  the  case,  by  the  alleged  satire  of 
the  Beggars'  Opera.     The  public  )jould  seem  to  have  been  the 

♦  Lord  Hervey's  Memoirs,  &c.,  of  the  Court  of  Queen  Caroline. 


1 


222 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


CAROLINE  WILHELMINA  DOROTHEA. 


223 


authors  of  such  satire  rather  than  Gay,  for  they  made  application 
of  many  passages,  to  which  the  writer  of  them  probably  attached 
no  personal  meaning. 

The  origin  of  the  piece  wa-s  certainly  not  political.     It  was  a 
mere  Newgate  pastoral  put  into  an  operatic  form,  and  intended  to 
ridicule,  what  it  succeeded  in  overthrowing  for  a  season,  tlie  newly- 
introduced  Italian  Opera.     Tlie  piece  had  been  refused  by  Gibber, 
and  was  accepted  by  Rich,  who  brought  it  out  at  Ltncoln's-Inn- 
Fields,  on  the  29th  of  January,  1728,  with  such  success,  that  it 
was  said  of  it,— that  it   made  Gay  ricli,  and  Rich  gay.     Walker 
was  his  Macheath,  and  Miss  Fenton,  afterwai-ds  Duchess  of  BoUon, 
the  Polly,— a  character  in  which  she  was  not  approached  by  either 
of  her  three  immediate  successors,  Mi<s  Warren,  Miss  Cantrell,  or 
sweet  Kitty  Clive.     Some  of  the  passages,  seized  upon  as  satires 
on  Walpole,  Townshend,  and  Walpole's  daughter,  "  Molly  Sker- 
rett,"  seem  as  harmless  of  satire  as  Spiller  was,  who  i>Iayed  Mat  o* 
the  iW'nt,  and  who  shortly  after  died  of  aix)j)lexy,  while  acting  in 
the  "  Rape  of  Proserpine  ;"— a  catastrophe  which  might  be  tis  rea- 
sonably called  a  satire  upon  the  apoplectic  destiny  of  George  L, 
as  that  all  the  passages  of  the  opera  were  originally  intended  al 
caricatures  of  the  administration.     Johnson  says  of  the  piece  that 
it  was  plainly  written  only  to  divert,— without' any  moral  purpose, 
and  therefore  not  likely  to  do  goo<l.     This  is  the  truth,  no  doubt ; 
and  It  Gay  put  in  a  few  strong  passages  just  previous  to  repre- 
sentation, it  was  the  public  ai.plication  that  gave  them  double 
force.     Perhaps  the  application  would  have  been  stronger  if  Quin 
had  originally  played,  as  was  intended,  the  part  of  Macheath.     To 
step  from  Macbeth  to  the  highwayman  might  have  had  a  political 
signification  given  to  it ;  and,  indeed,  Quin  did  plav,  and  sin-  the 
captain,  one  night  for  his  benefit,— just  as  another  ireat  tragedian, 
Young,  did,  within  our  own  recollection.     However,  never  had 
piece  such  success.     It  was  played  at  every  theatre  in  the  kin^r. 
dom,  and  every  audience  was  as  keenly  alive  for  passages  that 
could  be  applied  against  the  court  and  government,  a.s  they  were 
for  mere  ridicule  against  the  Itiilian  Opera. 

Caroline  herself  was  probably  not  ojiposed  to  the  morale  of  the 
\>iece.     Her  own  chaimen  were  suspected  of  being  in  len^nie  with 


highwaymen,  and  probably  were  ;  but  on  their  being  arrested,  and 
dismissed  from  her  service  by  the  master  of  her  household  who 
suspected  their  guilt,  she  was  indignant  at  the  liberty  taken,  and 
insisted  on  their  being  restored.  She  had  no  objection  to  be  safely 
canied  by  suspected  confederates  of  highwaymen. 

The  jwverty  of  "  Polly  "  could  not  render  it  exempt  from  being 
made  the  scape-goat  for  the  Beggars'  Opera,  in  which  "Walpole, 
from  whom  Gay  could  not  obtain  a  place,  was  said  to  be  "  shown- 
up,"  night  after  night,  as  a  thief,  and  the  friend  of  thieves.  The 
Beggai-s'  Opera  had  a  run  before  its  satire  was  felt  by  him  against 
whom  its  satire  was  chiefly  directed.  "  Polly"  is  very  stupid  and 
not  satirical,  but  it  was  a  favorite  with  the  author.  The  latter, 
therefore,  w^as  especially  annoyed  at  receiving  an  injunction  from 
the  lord  chamberlain's  office,  obtained  at  the  request  of  Sir  Robert, 
whereby  the  representation  of  "  Polly "  was  forbidden  in  every 
theatre.  The  poet  determined  to  shame  his  enemies  by  printing 
the  i)iece,  with  a  smart  political  supplement  annexed.  Gay  was 
the  "spoiled  child"  of  the  Duke  and  Duchess  of  Queensbury. 
They  espoused  his  ciiuse,  and  the  duchess  was  especially  active, 
urgent  and  successful  in  procuring  subscriptions ; — compelling 
them,  by  gentle  violence,  even  from  the  most  reluctant.  This  zeal 
for  the  vexed  jjoet  went  so  far  that  the  duchess  solicited  subscrip- 
tions even  in  the  queen's  apartment,  and  in  the  royal  drawing- 
room.  There  was  something  pleasant  in  making  even  the  courtiers 
subscribe  towards  the  circulating  of  a  piece  which  royalty,  through 
its  official,  had  prohibited  from  being  acted.  The  zealous  duchess 
was  thus  busy  with  three  or  four  gentlemen,  in  one  comer  of  the 
room,  when  the  king  came  upon  them,  and  inquired  the  nature  of 
her  business.  "  ft  is  a  matter  of  humanity  and  charity,"  said  her 
grace,  "  and  I  do  not  despair  but  that  your  majesty  will  contribute 
to  it."  The  monarch  disappointed  Gay's  patroness  in  this  respect, 
but  he  exhibited  no  symptom  whatever  of  displeasure,  and  left  her 
to  her  levying  occupation.  Subsequently,  however,  in  the  queen's 
apartment,  the  subject  was  talked  over  between  the  royal  pair,  and 
not  till  then  did  George  perceive  that  the  conduct  of  the  duchess 
was  so  impertinent  that  it  was  necessary  to  forbid  her  appearing 
again,  at  least  for  the  present,  at  court. 


224: 


LIVES  OF  THE    QUEE^'S  OF  ENGLAND. 


4 


CAKOLINE  WILHELMINA  DOROTHEA. 


225 


The  king's  vice-chamberlain,  Mr.  Stanhope,  was  despatched 
with  a  verbal  message  to  this  effect.  The  manner  and  the  matter 
equally  enraged  Gaj's  patroness,  and  she  delivered  a  note  of 
acknowledgment  to  the  vice-chamberlain,  in  which  she  stated  that 
she  was  both  surprised  and  gratified  at  the  i-ojal  and  agreeable 
command  to  stay  away  from  court,  seeing  that  she  had  never  gone 
there  but  for  her  own  diversion,  and  also  from  a  desire  of  showing 
some  civility  to  the  king  and  queen !  The  lively  lady  further 
intimated,  that  perhaps  it  was  as  well  that  they  who  dared  to  speak, 
or  even  think,  truth,  should  be  kept  away  from  a  court  where  it 
was  unpalatable  ;  although  she  had  thought  that  in  supporting  truth 
and  innocence  in  the  palace,  she  was  paying  the  very  highest  com- 
pliment possible  to  both  their  majesties. 

When  the  note  was  completed,  the  writer  gave  it  to  Mr.  Stan- 
hoi>e  to  read.  The  stiff  vice-chamberlain  felt  rather  shocked  at 
the  tone,  and  politely  advised  the  duchess  to  think  better  of  the 
matter,  and  write  another  note.  Her  grace  consented,  but  the 
second  edition  was  so  more  highly  spiced,  and  so  more  pungent 
than  the  first,  that  the  officer  preferred  taking  the  htter,  which  he 
must  have  placed  before  king  and  queen  with  a  sort  of  decent 
horror,  appropriate  to  a  functionary-  of  his  polite  vocation.  The 
duchess  lost  the  royal  favor,  and  the  duke,  her  husband,  lost  his 
posts. 

After  ail,  it  seems  singular  that  while  so  stupid  a  jnece  as  "  Polly" 
was  prohibited,  the  representation  of  the  Beggars'  Opera  still  went 
on.  The  alleged  offence  was  thus  seemingly  })enuitted,  while 
visitation  was  made  on  an  unoffending  piece ; — and  subscriptions 
for  the  printing  of  that  piece  were  asked  for,  as  we  have  seen,  by 
the  Duchess  of  Queensberrj-,  in  the  very  apartnSents  of  the  sove- 
reign, who  is  said  to  have  been  most  oftended  at  the  poet's  alleged 
presumption. 

Other  poets  and  the  players  advanced  in  the  good  will  of  Caroline 
and  her  house  by  producing  pieces  complimentary  to  the  Brunswick 
family.  Thus  Rich,  who  had  offended  the  royal  family  by  gettin*' 
up  the  Beggars'  Opera,  in  January,  1728,  produced  Mrs.  Hay- 
wood's tragedy  of  "  Frederick,  Duke  of  Brunswick-Lunenburg," 
in  March,  1729.     The  authoress  dedicated  her  play  to  Frederick 


Prince  of  Wales,  and  her  object  in  writing  it  was  to  represent  one 
of  the  ancestors  of  his  royal  highness  as  raised  to  the  imperial 
throne  in  consequence  of  his  virtues.  It  may  be  a  question  whether 
Caroline  or  her  husband,  or  son,  could  approve  of  a  subject  which 
exhibited  the  Brunswick  monarch  falling  under  the  dagger  of  an 
assassin.  However  this  may  be,  the  public  was  indifferent  to  the 
piece  and  its  object ;  and,  after  being  represented  thre^  times,  it 
disappeared  forever  and  left  the  stage  to  be  again  occupied  by  the 
Beggar's  Opera,— Peachum—Walpole,  Lockit — Townshend,  and 
lilat  o'  the  Mint,  type  of  easy  financiers,  who  gaily  bid  the  public 
" stand  and  deliver !* 

On  the  first  occasion  on  which  George  I.  left  England  to  visit 
Hanover,  he  appointed  the  Prince  of  Wales  regent  of  the  kingdom 
during  his  absence.  The  prince,  in  spite  of  his  limited  powers, — 
he  was  unable  to  act  on  the  smallest  ix)int,  without  the  sanction  of 
ministers, — contrived  to  gain  considerable  and  well-deserved  popu- 
laritv.  George  never  again  allowed  him  to  hold  the  same  honorable 
office ;  and  the  son  and  father  hated  each  other  ever  after.  In  the 
May  of  this  year,  that  son,  now  king,  quitted  England  in  order  to 
visit  the  electorate,  but  he  did  not  appoint  Frederick  Prince  of 
Wales  as  regent  during  his  absence.  He  delegated  that  office  to 
the  queen,  and  most  probably  by  the  queen's  advice.  Frederick 
had  not  been  long  in  London  before  the  opposition  party  made  him, 
if  not  their  chief,  at  least  their  rallying  point :  the  prince  hated  his 
father  heartily  and  openly,  and  he  had  as  little  regard  for  his  mother. 
When  application  was  made  to  Parliament  to  pay  some  alleged 
deficiencies  in  the  civil  list,  Frederick  was  particularly  severe  on 
the  extravagance  of  his  sire,  and  the  method  adopted  to  remedy  it. 
He  talked  loudly  of  what  he  would  have  done  in  a  similar  extre- 
mity, or  rather  of  how  he  would  never  liave  allowed  hunself  tofall 
into  so  extreme  a  difficulty.  He  was  doubly  in  the  wrong, — 
*'  in  the  first  place,  for  saying  what  he  ought  only  to  have  thought; 
and,  in  the  next,  for  not  thinking  what  he  ought  not  to  have  said." 
It  was  not  likely,  even  if  the  king  had  been  so  disposed,  that  the 
queen  would  have  consented  to  an  arrangement  which  would  have 
materially  diminished  her  own  consequence.  She  was  accordingly 
invested  with  the  office  of  regent,  and  she  performed  its  duties 

10* 


» 


226 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


with  a  grace  and  an  eflSciency  which  caused  universal  congratula- 
tion that  the  post  had  not  been  confided  to  other,  and  necessarily 
weaker,  hands.  She  had  Sir  Robert  Walpole  at  her  side  to  aid 
her  with  his  counsel,  and  the  presence  of  the  baronet's  enemy, 
Lord  Townshend,  with  the  king,  had  no  eftect  in  damaging  the 
power  efiectively  administered  by  Ctuoline  and  her  great  minister. 
It  was  not  merely  during  the  absence  of  the  king  in  Hanover 
that  Caroline  may  be  said  to  have  ruled  in  England.  The  year 
1730  affords  an  illustration  on  this  point. 

The  Dissenters,  who  had  originally  consented  to  the  Test  and 
Corponition  Acts,  upon  a  most  unselfish  ground, — for  they  sacrificed 
their  own  interest  in  order  that  the  Romanists  might  be  prevented 
from  being  admitted  to  places  of  i>ower  and  trust,  now  demanded 
the  repeal  of  those  acts.  The  request  perplexed  the  crown  and 
ministr)%  especially  when  an  election  was  pending.  To  promise 
the  dissenters,  and  it  was  more  esjiecially  the  Presbyterians  who 
moved  in  tliis  matter,  relief,  would  be  to  deprive  the  crown  of  the 
Totes  of  churchmen ;  and  to  reject  the  petition,  would  be  to  set 
every  dissenter  against  the  government  and  its  candi<lates.  Sir 
Robert  Walpole,  in  his  peq)lexity,  looked  around  for  a  good  genius 
to  rescue  him  from  the  dilemma  in  wluch  he  was  placed.  He 
paustid,  on  considering  Hoadly,  Bishop  of  Salisbury.  The  bishop 
was  the  very  deus  ex  machina,  most  needed,  but  he  had  been  most 
gcurvily  treated  on  matters  of  preferment ;  and  AV'aljKjle,  who  had 
face  for  most  things,  had  not  the  face  to  a>k  help  from  a  man  whom 
he  had  ill-treated.  The  queen  stepped  in,  and  levelled  the  dilH- 
culty. 

Caroline  sent  for  Iloadly  to  come  to  her  at  Kensington.  She 
received  the  preUite  with  affability,  and  overwhelmed  him  with 
flattery,  compliments  on  his  ability,  and  gniteful  expressions  touch- 
ing his  zeal,  and  the  value  of  his  services,  in  the  king's  cause.  She 
had  now,  she  said,  a  further  service  to  ask  at  his  hands ;  and,  of 
course,  it  was  one  that  demanded  of  him  no  sacrifice  of  opinion  or 
consistency :  the  queen  would  have  been  the  last  person  to  a^k 
such  a  thing  of  the  reverend  prelate  !  The  service  was  this.  The 
dissenters  required  the  repeal  of  the  Test  and  Corporation  Acts. 
The  government  did  not  dispute  their  right  to  have  such  a  conces- 


I 


CAROLINE  WILHELMINA  DOROTHEA. 


227 


sion  made  to  them,  but  it  did  feel  that  the  moment  was  inconvenient ; 
and,  therefore.  Bishop  Iloadly,  for  whom  the  whole  body  of  dissent-' 
ers  entertained  the  most  profound  respect,  was  solicited  to  make 
this  opinion  known  to  them,  and  to  induce  them  to  defer  their 
petition  to  a  more  favorable  opportunity. 

The  queen  supported  her  request  by  such  close   and  cogent 
arguments,  flattered  the  bishop  so  adroitly,  and  drew  such  a  picture 
of  the  possibly  deplorable  results  of  an  attempt  to  force  the  repeal 
of  the  acts  alluded  to,  at  the  present  moment,  that  Hoadly  may  be 
excused  if  he  began  to  think  that  the  stability  of  the  House  of 
Hanover  depended  on  the  course  he  should  take  in  this  conjunc- 
ture.    He  was  not,  however,  to  be  cajoled  out  of  his  opinions,  or 
his  independence  ;  he  pronounced  the  restrictive  acts  unreasonable, 
politically— and  profane,  theologicaUy.     He  added,  that,  as  a  friend 
to  religious  and  civil  liberty,  he  would  vote  for  the  repeal,  whenever, 
and  by  whomsoever,  proposed.     He  should  stuhify  himself,  if  he 
did  otherwise.     All  that  was  in  his  "  little  power,"  consistent  with 
his  honor  and  reputation,  he  would,  nevertheless,  willingly  do.     If 
he  could  be  clearly  convinced,  that  the  present  moment  was  an 
unpropitious  one  for  pressing  the  demand,  and  perilous  to  the  sta- 
bility  of  the   govei-nment,  he  would  not  fail  to  urge  upon  the 
dissenters  to  jwstpone  presenting  their  petition,  until  the  coming  of 
a  more  favorable  opiK)rtunitv. 

The  out-of-door  world  no  sooner  heard  of  this  inter\  iew  between 
the  queen  and  the  prelate,  than  a  re};ort  arose  that  her  majesty  had 
succeeded  in  convincing  the  right  reverend  father  that  the  claims 
of  the  dissentei-s  were  unreasonable,  and  that  the  bishop,  as  a 
consequence  of  such  conviction,  would  henceforth  oppose  them, 
resolutely. 

Hoadly  became  alarmed,  for  such  a  report  damaged  all  parties ; 
and  he  was  very  anxious  to  maintain  a  character  for  consistency, 
and  at  the  same  time  not  to  lose  liis  little  remnant  of  interest  at 
court.  He  tried  in  vain  to  get  a  promise  from  Sir  Robert,  that,  if 
the  dissenters  would  defer  preferring  their  claims  until  the  meetmg 
of  a  new  parliament,  it  should  then  meet  with  the  government  sup- 
port. Sir  Robert  was  too  wary  to  make  such  a  promise,  althouf'h 
he  hinted  his  conviction  of  the  reasonableness  pf  the  claim,  and 


f 


228 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


that  it  would  be  supported  when  so  preferred.  But  the  bishop,  in 
his  turn,  was  too  cautious  to  allow  himself  to  be  caught  by  so  flimsy 
an  encouragement ;  and  he  was  admitted  to  several  subsequent 
consultations  with  the  queen  ;  but,  clever  as  she  was,  she  could  not 
move  the  bishop.  Hoadly  was  resolved  that  the  dissenters  should 
know,  that  if  he  thought  they  might  with  propriety  defer  their  pe- 
tition, he  would  uphold  its  prayer  whenever  presented. 

In  the  mean  time,  Sir  Robert  extricated  himself  and  the  irov- 
emment,  cleverly.  Caroline  doubtless  enjoyed  tliis  exercise  of  his 
ability,  as  well  as  its  results.  The  dissenters,  organizing  an  a^^ita- 
tion,  had  established  a  central  committee  in  London,  all  the  mem- 
bers of  which  were  bound  to  Sir  Robert ;  "  all  moneyed  men,  and 
scriveners,  and  chosen  by  his  contrivance.  They  siK)ke  only  to  be 
prompted,  and  acted  only  as  he  guided."*  This  committee  had  a 
solemnly  farcical  meeting  with  the  administration,  to  hold  a  con- 
sultation in  the  matter.  Sir  Robert  and  the  speakers  confined 
themselves  to  the  unseasonableness,  but  commended  the  reason- 
ableness, of  the  petition.  **  My  lord  president  looked  wise,  was 
dull,  took  snuff,  and  said  nothing.  Lord  Hai-rington  (the  Mr.  Stan- 
hope who  had  waited  on  the  Duchess  of  Queensberry)  took  the 
same  silent,  passive  part.  The  lord-chancellor  (King)  and  the 
Duke  of  Newcastle  hjul  done  better,  had  they  followed  that  ex- 
ample, too  ;  but  both  spoke  very  plentifully,  and  were  both  equally 
unintelligible ;  the  one  (King)  from  having  lost  his  understanding, 
and  the  other  from  never  having  had  any."  f 

The  committee,  after  this  interview,  ciune  to  tlie  resolution,  that 
if  a  petition  were  presented  to  pai-liament  now,  in  favor  of  the  re- 
peal of  the  Test  and  Corporation  Acts,  "  there  was  no  prospect  of 
success."  This  resolution  saved  the  administration  from  the  storm 
threatened  by  the  Presbyterian  piuty.  That  party  considered 
itself  betrayed  by  its  own  delegates,  the  queen  and  Sir  Robert  were 
well  satisfied  with  the  result,  and  the  bishop  was  looked  upon  by 
the  dissenters  as  having  supported  their  cause  too  little,  and  by  the 
queen's  cabinet  as  having  supported  it  too  much. 

In  this  case  it  may,  perhaps,  be  fairly  asserted  that  the  queen 


*  Ijord  Hervey. 


t  I^rd  Hervey. 


CAROLINE   WILHELMINA  •  DOROTHEA. 


229 


and  the  minister,  while  they  punished  the  dissenters,  caused  the 
blame  to  faU  upon  the  Church.     Their  chief  argument  was,  that 
the  opposition  of  the  clergy  would  be  a  source  of  the  greatest  em- 
barrassment to  the  administration.     It  had  long  been  the  fashion 
to  make  the  Church  suffer,  at  least  in  reputation,  on  every  occasion 
when  opportunity  offered,  and  without  any  thought  as  to  whether 
the  establishment  deserved  it  or  not.     It  was  in  politics  precisely 
as  it  was  in  Sir  John  Vanbrugh's  comedy  of  the  "  Provoked  Wife." 
It  will  be  remembered  that,  in  that  dramatic  mirror,  which  repre- 
sents na  are  as  objects  are  seen  reflected  in  flawed  glass,  when  the 
tailor  enters  with  a  bundle,  the  elegant  Lord  Rake  exclaims,  "  Let 
me  see  what's  in  that  bundle!"     "An't   please   you,"  says  the 
tailor,  "  it  is  the  doctor  of  the  parish's  gown."     *'  The  doctor's 
gown !"  cries  my  lord,  and  then,  turning  to  Sir  John  B^te,  he  ex- 
ultingly  inquires,  or  requires,  "  Hark  you,  knight ;  you  won't  stick 
at  abusing   the  clergy,  will  you?"     *'No!"  shouts  Brute,  "I'm 
dnmk,  and  I'll  abuse  anything ! "     "  Then,"  says  Lord  Rake,  "  you 
shall  wear  this  gown  whilst  you  charge  the  watch ;  that  though 
the  blows  fall  upon  you,  the  scandal  may  light  upon  the  Church!" 
"  A  generous  design,  by  all  the  Gods ! "  is  the  ecstatic  consent  of 
the   Pantheistic  Brute — and  it  is  one  to  vihiiih  Amen !  has  been 
cried  by  many  of  the  Brute  family,  smce  first  it  was  uttered  by 
their  illustrious  predecessor. 

Meanwhile,  Caroline  could  be  as  earnest  and  interested  upon 
trifles  as  she  was  upon  questions  of  political  importance.  She 
loved  both  to  plague  and  to  talk  about  Mrs.  Howard. 

That  the  queen  was  not  more  courteous  to  this  lady  than  their 
respective  positions  demanded,  there  is  abundant  evidence.  In  a 
very  early  period  of  the  reign,  she  was  required,  as  bedchamber- 
woman,  to  present  a  basin  for  the  queen  to  Avash  her  hands  in,  and 
to  perform  the  service  kneeling.  The  etiquette  was,  for  the  basin 
and  ewer  to  be  set  on  the  queen's  table  by  a  page  of  the  back 
stairs ;  the  ofiice  of  the  bedchamber-woman  was  then  to  take  both, 
j)our  out  the  water,  set  it  before  the  queen,  and  remain  kneeling 
the  while  her  majesty  washed,  of  which  refreshing  ceremony  the 
kneeling  attendant  was  the  only  one  who  dared  be  the  ocular 
witness. 


230 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


This  service  of  genuflexion  remained  in  courtly  fashion  till  the 
death  of  Queen  Charlotte.  In  the  mean  time,  Mrs.  Howard  was 
by  no  memis  disposed  to  render  it  to  Queen  Caroline.  The  scene 
that  ensued  was  highly  amusing.  On  the  service  being  demanded> 
said  Caroline  to  Lord  Hervey,  **  Mi-s.  Howard  pixweeded  to  tell 
me,  with  her  little  fierce  eyes,  and  cheeks  as  red  as  your  coat,  that, 
positively,  she  would  not  do  it ;  to  w  Inch  I  made  her  no  answer 
then  in  anger,  but  calmly,  as  I  would  have  said  to  a  naughty  child : 
— '  Yes,  my  dear  Howard,  I  am  sure  you  icilL  I  know  you  wilL 
Go,  go  ;  fie  for  shame  I  Go,  my  good  Howard-,  we  will  talk  of  this 
another  time:  Mrs.  Howard  did  come  round ;  and  I  told  her," 
said  Caroline,  "  I  knew  we  should  be  good  friends  again ;  but  could 
not  help  adding,  in  a  little  more  serious  voice,  that  I  owned,  of  all 
my  servants,  I  had  least  expected,  as  I  had  least  deserved  it,  such 
treatment  from  her ;  when  she  knew  I  had  held  her  up  at  a  time 
when  it  was  in  my  power,  if  I  had  pleaded,  any  hour  of  the  day,  to 
let  her  drop  through  my  fingers,  thus ." 

With  what  a  lumbering  process  this  royal  dres.-ing  must  hare 
been  got  through.  Imperious  mastei*s  and  mistresses,  however, 
sometimes  meet  with  servants  who,  while  doing  their  office,  could 
render  the  object  of  it  supremely  ridiculous.  Witness  Turenne 
passing  Louis  XIA'th's  >hirt,  which  that  royal  gentleman  changed 
but  every  other  day, — passing  it  so  j-apidly  over  the  head  of  that 
Lord's  anointed,  that  the  warrior-valet  set  the  long  tassels  ap- 
pended to  his  gloves  in  violent  swing,  and  therewith  most  irreve- 
rently filliped  the  august  nose  of  '' LElat,  c'  est  moi!"  But  Tu- 
renne  paid  with  exile  for  his  joke. 

Caroline's  own  account  o^  x\w  fracas  between  Mrs.  Howard  and 
her  husband,  is  too  characterislic  to  be  pass«'d  over.  The  curious 
in  such  matters  will  find  it  in  full  detail  in  "  Lord  Hervey 's  Me- 
moirs." In  this  place  it  will  sutfice  to  say,  that,  according  to  Lord 
Hervey,  Mr.  Howard  had  a  i)ersonal  interview  with  the  queen. 
Caroline  described  the  circumstances  of  it  with  great  graphic 
power.  At  this  interview  he  had  said,  that  he  would  take  his 
wile  out  of  her  majesty's  coach  if  he  met  her  in  it.  Caroline  told 
him  to  ''  Do  it,  if  he  dare  ;  though,"  she  added,  "  I  was  liorribly 
afraid  of  him  (for  we  were  tete  a  tite)  all  the  time  I  was  thus  play- 


CAROLINE  WILHELMINA    DOROTHEA. 


231 


ing  the  bully.     Wliat  added  to  my  fettr  on  this  occasion,"  said  the 
queen,  "  was,  that  as  I  knew  him  to  be  so  hrutal,as  well  as  a  little 
mad,  and  seldom  quite  sober,  so  that  I  did  not  think  it  impossible 
but  that  he  might  throw  me  out  of  window  (for  it  was  in  this 
very  room  our  interview  was,  and  that  sash  then  open,  as  it  is  now ;) 
but  as  soon  as  I  got  near  the  door,  and  thought  myself  safe  from 
bemg  thrown  out  of  the  window,  I  resumed  my  grand  tone  of 
queen,  and  said  I  would  be  glad  to  see  who  would  daro  to  open  my 
coach-door,  and  take  out  one  of  my  servants  ;  knowing  all  the  time 
that  he  might  do  so  if  he  would,  and  that  he  could  have  his  wife, 
and  I  the  aftront.     Then  I  told  him  that  my  resolution  was,  posi- 
tively, neither  to  force  his  wife  to  go  to  him,  if  she  had  no  mmd  to 
It,  nor  to  keep  her  if  she  had.     He  then  said  he  would  complain 
to  the  king;  upon  which  I  again  assumed  m^  high  tone,  and  said, 
the  kmg  had  nothing  to  do  with  ray  ser\  ants  ;  and,  for  that  reason, 
he  might  save  himself  the  trouble,  as  I  was  sure  the  king  would 
give  him  no  answer  but  that  it  was  none  of  his  business  to  concern 
himself  ^vith  my  family ;  and,  after  a  good  deal  more  conversation 
of  this  sort  (I  standing  close  to  the  door  all  the  while  to  give  me 
courage,)  Mr.  Howard  and  I  bade  one  another  good  mornina  and 
he  withdrew." 

Caroline  proceeded  to  call  Lord  Trevor  "an  old  fool,"  for  com- 
ing to  her  with  thanks  from  Mrs.  Howard,  and  suggestions  that 
the  queen  should  give  1200/.  a-year  to  the  husband  for  the  consent 
of  the  latter  to  his  wife's  being  retained  in  the  queen's  household. 
Caroline  replied  to  this  suggestion  with  as  high  a  tone  as  she  could 
have  used  when  addressing  herself  to  Mr.  Howard ;  but  ^vith  a 
coarseness  of  spirit  and  sentiment  which  hardly  became  a  queen, 
although  they  do  not  appear  to  have  been  considered  unlxcoming 
in  a  queen  at  that  time.    "  I  thought,"  said  Caroline,  « I  thought  I 
had  done  full  enough,  and  that  it  was  a  little  too  much,  not  only  to 
keep  the  king's  'guenipes'  (trollops)  under  my  roof,  but  to  pay 
them,  too.     I  pleaded  poverty  to  my  good  Lord  Trevor,  and  said 
I  would  do  anything  to  keep  so  good  a  servant  as  Mrs.  Howard 
about  me ;  but  that  for  the  1200/.  a-year,  I  really  could  not  afford 
it."     The  king  used  to  make  presents  to  the  queen  of  fine  Hano- 
verian horses,  not  that  she  might  be  gratified,  but  that  he  might. 


JJJUtj!U'~>' 


232 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENaLAND. 


when  he  wanted  tliem,  have  horses  maintained  out  of  her  purse. 
So  he  gave  her  a  bedchamber-woman  in  Mrs.  Howai-d ;  but  Car- 
oline would  not  have  her  on  the  same  terms  as  the  horses,  and  the 
1200/.  a-year  were  probably  paid — not  by  the  king,  after  all,  but 
by  the  people. 

Lord  Chesterfield  describes  the  figure  of  Mi-s.  Howard  as  being 
above  the  middle  size,  and  well-shaped,  with  a  face  which  was 
more  pleasing  than  beautiful.*  She  was  remarkable  for  the  ex- 
treme fau7iess  and  fineness  of  her  liair.  "  Her  arms  were  square 
and  lean,  that  is,  ugly.  Her  countenance  was  an  undecided  one, 
and  announced  neither  good  nor  ill  nature,  neither  sense  nor  the 
want  of  it,  neither  vivacity  nor  dulness."  It  is  difficult  to  under- 
stand how  such  a  face  could  b6  **  pleasing ; '*  and  the  following  is 
the  characteristic  of  a  commonplace  person.  ^^  She  had  good  na- 
tural sense,  not  without  art,  but  in  her  conversation  dwelt  tediously 
upon  details  and  minuties.  Of  the  man  whom  she  had,  when  very 
young,  hastily  married  for  love,  and  heartily  hated  at  leisure,  Ches- 
tei-field  says  '  he  was  sour,  dull,  and  sullen.' "  The  same  writer 
sets  it  down  as  equally  unaccountable  that  the  lady  should  have 
loved  such  a  man,  or  that  the  man  should  ever  have  loved  anybody. 
The  noble  lord  is  also  of  opinion  that  only  a  Platonic  friendship 
reigned  between  the  king  and  the  favorite  ;  and  that  it  was  as  in- 
nocent as  that  which  was  said  to  have  existed  between  himself  and 
Miss  Bellenden. 

Very  early  during  the  intercourse,  "  the  busy  and  speculative 
pohticians  of  the  antechambers,  who  knew  everything,  but  knew 
eveiytiiing  wrong,"  imagined  that  the  lady's  influence  must  be  all- 
powerful,  seeing  that  her  admirer  paid  to  her  the  homage  of  devot- 
ing to  her  the  best  hours  of  his  day.  She  did  not  reject  solicita- 
tions, we  are  told,  because  she  was  unwilling  to  imve  it  supposed 
that  she  was  without  power.  She  neither  rejected  solicitations, 
nor  bound  herself  by  promises,  but  hinted  at  difficulties ;  and,  in 
short,  as  Chesterfield  well  expresses  it,  she  used  '*  all  that  trite 
cant  of  those  who  with  power  will  not,  and  of  those  who  without 
power  cannot,  grant  the  requested  fovors."     So  far  from  being 


Chesterfield's  Life  and  Letters  ;  edited  by  Lord  Mahon. 


CAROLINE  WILHELMINA  DOROTHEA.     '   233 

came  Countess  of  Suflblk  in   h      o  C  c'  t"  ^'"  '" 

told,  "had  taken  good  ca;e  that  Ladv  S„«  ,f.  ^'''"'""'  '"^  """ 
not  lead  to  power  and  f^Z  \  ^  ^  ^  '  apartment  should 
hpr  inf.  •    ^  7   ,  '  ^""^  ''°™  '""«  *o  «'me  made  her  feel 

or  four  days,  representing  i,  as  the  seat  of  a  political  faetion." 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE   MABRIAGE   OF   THE   PRl.NCESS   AKNE. 

The  social  happiness  of  Caroline  began  now  to  be  afleete,!  ... 
the  conduct  of  her  son  Frederick,  Prince  of  A\4le  ^'""^^F 
arrival  in  England,  in  1728,  he  had'been  but  c  J  ; ttertred  b': 
h.s  parents,  who  refused  to  pay  the  debts  he  had  accumuLted  il 
Hanover,  prev.ous  to  his  leaving  the  electome.  HeT^^^t  ^ 
the  arms  of  the  opposition  ;  and  the  court  had  no  more  WolT 
enemy,  political  or  ,H,rsonal,  than  this  prince.  '  ^ 

His  conduct.  however,_and  some  portion  of  it  was  far  fr„„, 
bemg  unprovoked,_did  not  prevent  the  court  from  emen'.t" 
some  socjal  enjoyments  of  a  harmless  and  not  over-amusir^:,url 
Among  ,hese  may  be  reckoned  the  '•  readings  "  at  Wind  of  Ca" " 
These  n^admgs  were  of  the  poetry,  or  verses  nither,  of  that  Sul' 
Duck  the  thresher,  whose  rhymes  Swift  has  ridi  uled  in  les^ 

«a.  a  ^  dt.-h.re  laborer,  who  supported,  or  tried  to  support  a 
family  upon  the  modest  wages  of  four  and  sixpence  a  weT  l" 
h.s  leisure  hours,  whenever  those  could  have  Lurxed,  Te  cuuf 
vated  poetiy:  and  two  of  his  pieces,  "The  Shunamite,"  Ind  "The 
Thresher's  Labor"  were  publicly  read  in  the  d^wing-room  al 
^mdsor  Castle,  in  1730,  by  Lord  Macclesfield.     Caroline"ro! 


f 


234 


LITES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


cured  for  the  poet  the  office  of  yeoman  of  the  guard,  and  after- 
wards made  him  keeper  of  her  grotto,  Merlin's  Cave,  at  Richmond. 
This  last  act,  and  the  patronage  and  pounds  which  Caroline  wasted 
upon  the  wayward  and  worthless  Savage,  show  that  Swift's  epi- 
gram upon  the  busts  in  the  hermitage  at  Richmond  was  not  based 
upon  truth, — 

Louis,  the  living  learned  fed. 
And  raised  the  scientific  head. 
Our  frugal  queen,  to  save  her  meat, 
Exalts  the  heads  that  cannot  eat. 

Swift's  anger  against  the  queen,  who  once  promised  him  some 
medals,  but  who  never  kept  her  word,  and  from  whom  he  had 
hoped,  perhaps,  for  a  patronage  which  he  failed  to  acquire,  was 
further  illustrated  about  this  time  in  a  fiercely  satirical' i)oem,  in 
which  he  says : — 

May  Caroline  continue  long — 
For  ever  fair  and  young — in  song. 
What,  though  the  royal  carcase  must, 
Squeoz'd  in  a  colIin,  turn  to  dust  ? 
Those  elements  her  name  compose. 
Like  atoms,  are  exempt  from  blows. 

And,  in  allusion  to  the  princesses  and  their  prospects,  he  adds, 
that  Caroline  "hath  graces  of  her  own:" 

Three  Graces  by  Lucina  brought  her, 
Just  three,  and  ev'ry  Grace  a  dauc^hter. 
Here  many  a  king  his  heart  and  crown 
Shall  at  their  snowy  feet  lay  down ; 
In  royal  robes  they  come  by  dozens 
To  court  their  English  German  cousins: 
Besides  a  pair  of  princely  babies 
That,  five  years  hence,  w  ill  both  be  Hebcs. 

The  royal  patronage  of  Duck  ultimately  raised  him  to  the 
Church,  and  made  of  him  Vicar  of  Kew.  But  it  failed  to  brin^r  to 
the  thresher  substantial  happiness.  He  had  little  enjoyment  in°the 
station  to  which  he  was  elevated ;  and  weary  of  the  restraints  it 
imposed  on  him,  he  ultimately  escaped  from  them  by  drowninor 
himself.  ^ 


CAROLINE  WILHELMINA  DOROTHEA.       235 

Of  the  Graces  who  were  the  daughters  of  Caroline,  the  mar- 
riage of  one  began  now  to  be  canvassed.  Meanwhile,  there  was 
much  food  for  mere  talk  in  common  passing  events  at  home.  The 
court.ers  had  to  express  sympathy  at  their  majesties'  being  upset 
m  their  carnage,  when  travelling  only  from   Kew  to  London. 

Juke  of  n"  T      ;   r  '"'  ^"^^  '"'  ^"  ^^"^«"-     '^'  --  that 
baraVdhers.     In  the  year  1731  died  two  far  more  remarkable 

ter  of  Richard  Cromwell  the  Protector,  and  granddaughter  of 
Ohver  Cromwell,  died  at  her  house  in  Bedford  iLw,  in  th^  eighty- 
second  year  of  her  age."  In  the  same  month  passed  away  a^man 
whose  writings  as  much  amused  Caroline  as  they  have  done  com- 
moner  people-Defoe.  He  had  a  not  much  superior  intellectual 
mtining  to  that  of  Stephen  Duck,  but  he  was'"  one  of  the  ^t 
Enghsh  writers  that  ever  had  so  mean  an  education."    The  deaths 

aL!  oVr'  ^T  Tu"  r^"^"^^"^  P^-fl'^-^-  I^uke  of  Wharton, 
and  of  the  relict  of  that  Duke  of  Monmouth  who  lost  his  head  fo 
rebeUion  against  James  II.,  gave  further  subject  of  conversation  in 
the  court  circle,  where,  if  it  was  understood  that  death  was  inevit- 

^ichol.,  of  Trinity  College,  Cambridge,  to  steal  books  from  the 
branes  m  that  university  town.     The  court  was  highly  merry  at 
he  precipitate  flight  of  the  doctor,  after  he  was  found  out    bu 

o  .ifoTt'p      "^^r""-'  "'"  '''^^^""'"-^  ''  ^^'^  ^'  -  ^'-^^  chanced 
o  >hoot  Prince  Schwartzenl>erg,  his  master  of  the  horse.     But  we 

tuni  from  these  matters  to  those  of  wooing  and  marria<.e. 

She  who  had  expressed  her  vexation  at  having  brothers  who 
stood  between  her  and  the  succession  to  the  ciwn-a  crown  to 
wea.  ,hich  for  a  day,  she  averred  she  would  wilhngly  die  when 

Zir.T''-'^  ^'^  ''''  ^'^^"  "^"^^'^'  ^^-  ^^'"-^  Anne 
reir    1  .  "^f "''  ^^^  '^  twenty-four,  and   her  hand  vet 

remained  disengaged.  Neither  cro.'n  nor  suitor  had  been  placed 
at  h  r  disposal.  A  suitor  rnU  a  crown  was  once,  however^  veiy 
nearly  on  the  point  of  fulfilling  the  great  object  of  her  ambitio^ 


ill 

I  r 

■vJl 


236 


LIVES  OF  THK   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


CAROLINE    WILHELMINA   DOROTHEA. 


237 


and  that  when  she  was  not  more  than  sixteen  years  of  age.  Tlie 
lover  proposed  was  no  less  a  potentate  than  Louis  XV.,  and  he 
would  have  offered  her  a  seat  on  a  throne,  which,  proud  as  she 
was,  she  might  have  accepted  without  much  condescension.  She 
would  have  accepted  the  pleasant  destiny  which  appeared  framed 
for  her,  with  more  alacrity  than  the  last  English  princess  who  had 
been  wooed  by  Gallic  king — with  more  readiness  than  Mary  of 
England  displayed  when  she  reluctantly  left  the  court  of  her 
brother,  Henry  VIII.,  and  the  Duke  of  Brandon  there,  to  espouse 
all  that  survived  of  the  once  gay  and  gallant  Louis  XII. 

It  is  said  that  the  proposal  to  unite  Louis  XV.  and  the  Princess 
Anne  originated  with  the  French  minister,  the  Duke  de  Bourbon, 
and  that  the  project  was  entertained  with  much  favor  and  com- 
placency, until  it  suddenly  occurred  to  some  one  that  if  the 
princess  became  queen  in  France,  she  would  be  expected  to  con- 
form to  the  religion  of  France.  This,  it  was  urged,  could  not  be 
thought  of  by  a  family  which  was  a  reigning  family  only  by  virtue 
of  its  pre-eminent  Protestantism.  It  does  not  seem  to  have 
occurred  to  any  one  that  when  Maria  Henrietta  espoused  Charles 
I.,  she  had  not  been  even  asked  to  become  a  professed  member  of 
the  Church  of  England,  and  that  we  might  have  asked  for  the 
same  toleration  in  France  for  the  daughter  of  Caroline,  as  had 
been  given  in  England  to  the  daughter  of  the  "  Grand  Henri." 
However  this  may  be,  the  affair  was  not  pursued  to  its  end,  and 
Caroline  could  not  say  to  her  daughter  what  we  have  recorded 
that  Stanislas  said  to  his  on  the  morning  he  received  an  offer  for 
her  from  the  young  King  Louis  : — "  Bon  Jour,  ma  Jille  !  vous  ites 
Heine  de  France!" 

Anne  was  unlucky.  She  was  deprived  of  her  succession  to  the 
crown  of  England  by  the  birth  of  her  brothers,  and  she  was  kept 
back  from  that  of  France,  by  a  question  of  religion.  She  lived 
moodily  on  for  some  half-dozen  years,  and  nothing  more  advan- 
tageous offering,  she  looked  good-naturedly  on  one  of  the  ugliest 
princes  in  Europe.  But  then  he  happened  to  be  a  sovereign 
prince  in  his  way.  This  was  the  Prince  of  Orange,  who  resem- 
bled Alexander  the  Great  only  in  having  a  wry  neck  and  a  halt 
in  his  gait.  But  he  also  had  other  deformities,  from  which  the 
Macedonian  was  free. 


George  and  Caroline  was  equally  indisposed  to  accept  the 
prince  for  a  son-in-law,  and  the  parental  disinclination  was  ex- 
pressed in  words  to  the  effect,  that  neither  king  nor  queen  would 
force  the  feelings  of  their  daughter,  whom  they  left  free  to  accept 
or  reject  the  misshapen  suitor,  who  aspired  to  the  plump  hand  and 
proud  person  of  the  Princess  Anne. 

The  lady  thought  of  her  increasing  years ;  that  lovers  were  not 
to  be  found  on  every  bush,  especially  sovereign  lovers;  and 
remembering  that  there  were  princesses  of  England  before  her  who 
had  contrived  to  live  in  much  state  and  a  certain  degree  of  happi- 
ness as  Princesses  of  Orange,  she  declared  her  intention  of  following 
the  same  course,  and  compelling  her  ambition  to  stoop  to  the  same 
modest  fortune. 

The  queen  was  well  aware  that  her  daughter  knew  nothing 
more  of  the  prince  than  what  she  could  collect  from  his  counterfeit 
presentiments  limned  by  flattering  artists ;  and  Caroline  suggested 
that  she  should  not  be  too  ready  to  accept  a  lover  \^iiom  sh°e  had 
not  seen.     The  princess  was  resolute  in  her  determination  to  take 
him  at  once,  "  for  better,  for  worse."     Her  royal  father  was  some- 
what impatient  and  chafed  by  such  pertinacity,  and  exclaimed  that 
the  prince  was  the  ugliest  man  in  Holland,  and  he  could  not  more 
terribly  describe  him.     « I  do  not  care,"  said  she,  «  how  ugly  he 
may  be.     If  he  were   a   DuFch  baboon,   I   would   marry  liim." 
"  Nay,  then,  have  your  way ;"  said  George,  in  his  strong  West- 
phahan  accent,  which  was  always  rougher  and  stronger  when  he 
was  vexed,  "  have  your  way ;  you  will  find  baboon  enough,  I  pro- 
mise you!" 

It  would  hardly  be  safe,  seldom  flattering,  at  the  best  of  times,  / 
for  candidates  for  the  office  of  "son-in-law,"  to  hear  their  merits, 
persons,  and  prospects  discussed  by  the  fomily  circle  into  which 
they  are  seekmg  to  make  entrance.  Could  the  aspiring  Prince  of 
Orange  only  have  heard  how  amiably  he  was  spoken  oUn  famiUe 
by  his  future  relations,  he  would  perhaps  have  been  less  ambitious 
of  completing  the  alliance.  Happily  these  family  secrets  were 
not  revealed  until  long  after  he  could  be  conscious  of  them,  and 
accordingly  his  honest  proposals  were  accepted  with  ostentatious 
respect  and  ill-covered  ridicule. 

Caroline  spoke  of  the  bridegroom  as  "  the  animal."     His  in- 


238 


LIVkS  OF  THE  QUEENS   OF  ENGLAND. 


tended  wife,  when  she  heard  of  his  aiTival,  was  in  no  hurry  to 
meet  him,  but  went  on  at  her  harpsichord,  surrounded  by  a  number 
of  opera-people.  AYhcn  the  poor  *•  groom "  fell  sick,  not  one  of 
the  royal  family  condescended  to  visit  him,  and  though  he  himself 
maintained  a  dignified  silence  on  this  insulting  conduct,  his  suite, 
who  could  not  imitate  their  master's  indifference,  made  comment 
thereupon  loud  and  frequent  enough.  They  got  nothing  by  it, 
save  their  being  called  Dutch  boobies.  The  Princess  Royal 
exhibited  no  outward  manifestation  of  either  consciousness  or 
sympathy.  She  appeared  precisely  the  same  under  all  contin- 
gencies ;  and  whether  the  lover  were  in  or  out  of  England,  in  life 
or  out  of  it,  seemed  to  this  strong-minded  lady,  to  be  one  and  the 
same  thing. 

The  marriage  of  the  Princess  Royal  could  not  be  concluded 
without  an  application  to  parliament.  To  both  houses  a  civil  inti- 
mation was  made  of  the  proposed  union  of  the  Princess  Anne 
and  the  Prince  of  Orange.  In  this  intimation  the  king  graciously 
mentioned  that  he  promised  himself  the  concunvnce  and  assist- 
ance of  the  Commons  to  enable  him  to  give  such  a  portion  with 
his  eldest  daughter  as  should  be  suitable  to  the  occasion.  The 
Commons'  Committee  promised  to  do  all  that  the  king  and  queen 
could  expect  from  them,  and  they  therefore  came  to  the  resolution 
to  sell  lands  in  the  island  of  St.  Chri^topher  to  the  amount  of 
80,000/.,  and  to  make  over  that  sum  to  the  king,  as  the  dowry  of 
his  eldest  daughter.  The  resolution  made  part  of  a  bill  of  which 
it  was  oaly  one  of  the  items,  and  the  membei*s  in  the  house  affected 
to  be  scandalized  that  the  dowry  of  a  princess  of  England  should 
be  "  lumped  in  "  among  a  mass  of  miscellaneous  items, — charities 
to  individuals,  gi-ants  to  old  churches,  and  sums  awarded  for  even 
less  dignified  purposes.  But  the  bill  passed  as  it  stood,  and  Caro- 
line, who  only  a  few  days  before  had  sent  a  thousand  pounds  to 
the  Provost  of  Queen's  College,  Oxford,  for  the  rebuilding  and 
adorning  of  that  college,  was  especially  glad  to  find  a  dowry  for 
her  daughter,  in  whatever  company  it  might  come,  provided  only 
it  was  not  out  of  her  own  purse. 

The  news  of  the  securing  of  the  dowry  hastened  the  coming  of 
the  bridegroom.  On  the  7th  of  November,  1732,  he  arrived  at 
Greenwich,  and   thence   proceeded  to   Somerset   House.      The 


CAROLINE  WILHELMINA    DOROTHEA.  289 

nuptials  were  to  have  been  speedily  solemnized,  but  the  lover  fell 
gi'ievously   sick.     No   philter   could   restore    him    sufficiently   to 
appear   at   the   altar  on   the  day  originally  appointed,   and  the 
marriage  was  deferred  amid  a  world  of  sighs.     There  was  no  one 
whom  the  postponement  of  the  marriage  more  annoyed  than  it  did 
the  Duchess  of  IVIariborough.     She  was  then  residing  in  Marl- 
borough  House,  which  had  been  built  some  five  and  twenty  years 
previously  by  Wren.     That  architect  was  employed,  not  because 
he  wjis   preferred,   but  that   Vanbrugh   might   be   vexed.     The 
ground  in   which  had  formerly  been   kept  the  birds  and   fowls 
ultimately  destined  to  pass  through  the  kitchen  to  the  royal  table 
had  been  leased  to  the  duchess  by  Queen  Anne,  and  the  expenses' 
of  building   amounted    to    nearly   fifty   thousand    pounds.      The 
duchess  both  experienced  and  caused  considerable  mortifications 
here.     She  used  to  speak  of  the  king  in  the  adjacent  palace  as 
her  "  neighbor  George.^' '   The  entrance  to  the  house,  from  Pall 
Mall,  was  as  it  still   is,  a   crooked   and   inconvenient   one.     To 
remedy  this  defect,  she  intended  to  purchase  some  houses  « in  the 
Priory,"  as  the  locality  was  called,  for  the  purpose  of  pulHng  them 
down  and  constnicting  a  more  commodious  entry  to  the  mansion  • 
but  Sir  Robert  Walpole,  with  no  more  dignified  motive  than  mere' 
J»pite,  secured  the  houses  and  ground,  and  erected  buildings  on  the 
latter,    which,    as    now,    completely  blocked  in  the  front  of  the 
duchess's  mansion.     She  was  subjected  to  a  more  temporaiy,  but 
as  mconvenient,  blockade,  when  the  preparations  for  the  weddin- 
of  the  imperious    Anne   and    her  ugly  husband  were  going  on'' 
Among  other  preparations  a  boarded  giUlery,  through  which  the 
nuptial  procession  was  to  pjt.s,  was  built  up  close  against  the 
duchess's   windows,   completely   darkening   her  rooms.     As   the 
boards  remained  there  during  the  postponement  of  the  ceremony 
the  duchess  used  to  look  at  them  with  the  remark,  "I  wish  the' 
princess  would  oblige  me  by  taking  away  her  orange  chest!" 

But  the  sick  bridegroom  took  long  to  mend  ;  and  it  was  not  till 
the  following  January  that  he  was  even  sufficiently  convalescent  to 
journey  by  ea^y  stages  to  Bath,  and  there  drink  in  health  at  the 
lafluonable  pump.  A  month's  attendance  there  restored  him  to 
something  like  health ;  and  in  February  his  serene  highness  was 


^1 
[ill 


240 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


gravely  disporting  himself  at  Oxford,  exchanging  compliments  and 
eating  dinners  with  the  sages  and  scholars  at  that  seat  of  learning. 
Another  month  was  allowed  to  pass,  and  then,  on  the  24th  March, 
1733,  the  royal  marriage  was  solemnized  **  in  the  French  chapel,'* 
St.  James's,  by  the  Bishop  of  London. 

The  ceremony  was  as  theatrical  and  coarse  as  such  things  used 
to  be  in  those  days.  The  prince  must  have  looked  very  much  as 
M.  Potier  used  to  look  in  Riquet  a  la  Houppe,  before  his  trans- 
formation from  deformity  to  perfection.  He  was  attired  in  a  "  cloth 
of  gold  suit  f  and  George  and  Caroline  may  be  pardoned  if  they 
smiled  at  the  "  baboon"  whom  they  were  about  to  accept  for  their 
son-in-law.  The  bride  was  "  in  virgin  robes  of  silver  tissue,  having 
a  train  six  yards  long,  which  was  supported  by  ten  dukes'  and  earls' 
daughters,  all  of  whom  were  attired  in  robes  of  silver  tissue."  The 
ceremony  took  place  in  the  evening,  and  at  midnight  the  royal 
family  supped  in  public.  It  was  a  joyous  festival,  and  not  before 
two  in  the  morning  did  the  jaded  married  couple  retire  to  the 
bower  prepared  for  them,  where  they  hiid  to  endure  the  further 
nuisance  of  sitting  up  in  bed,  in  rich  undresses,  while  the  court  and 
nobility,  "  fresh"  from  an  exhilarating  supper  and  strong  wines, 
defiled  before  them,  making  pleasant  remarks  the  while,  as  "  fine 
gentlemen"  used  to  make,  who  had  been  bom  in  our  Augustan 


age. 


The  married  couple  were  assuredly  a  strangely  assorted  pair. 
The  bride,  indeed,  was  not  without  common-place  charms.  In 
common  with  a  dairy-maid,  the  princess  had  a  lively  clear  look 
and  a  very  fair  complexion.  Like  many  a  dairy-maid,  too,  of  the 
time,  she  was  very  much  marked  with  the  small-pox.  She  was 
also  ill-made,  and  inclined  to  become  as  obese  as  her  royal  mother. 
But  then  the  bridegroom !  All  writers  dealing  with  the  subject 
agree  that  his  ugliness  was  something  extraordinary.  No  one 
doubts  that  he  was  deformed.  But  Hervey  adds  some  traits  that 
are  revolting.  His  serene  highness  did  not,  like  the  gods,  distil  a 
celestial  ichor,  and  there  was  something  so  strong  about  him,  that 
"  you  might  nose  him  i'  the  lobby."  He  appears,  however,  not  to 
have  been  void  of  sense  or  good  feeling ;  for  when,  at  the  pefiod 
of  his  arrival,  he  was  received  with  very  scanty  honors  and  scurvy 


CAROLINE   WILHELMINA    DOROTHEA. 


241 


ceremony,  was  made  to  feel  that  he  was  nothing  in  himself,  and 
co^ld  only  become  anything  here  by  marrymgan  English  prmcess ; 
when    George,   if  not    Caroline,   "snubbed"   the    courtiers   who 
crowded  his  apartments  at  Somerset  House ;  and  when,  in  short, 
the  prmce  of  12,000/.  a  year  was  made  to  feel  that  but  little  value 
was  set  upon  him,— he  bore  it  all  in  silence,  or  as  if  he  did  not 
perceive  it.     Let  us  hop  e  that  gallantry  for  the  lady  induced  the 
prmcely   Quasimodo  thus  to  act.     It  was  almost  more  than  she 
deserved ;  for  while  the  people  were  ready  to  believe  that  the  alli- 
ance was  entered  into  the  better  to  strengthen  the  Protestant  suc- 
cession, Anne  herself  was  immediately  moved  thereto  by  fear,  if 
she  were  left  single,  of  ultimately  depending  for  a  provision  upon 
her  brother  Frederick.     She  considered  her  Dutch  husband  with 
som^tliing  of  the  spirit  with  which.  Sir  Edward  Bulwer  says,  ultra- 
pious  and  aged  maidens  in  country  towns  sigh  to  lie  at  rest  on 
Abraham's  bosom,— the  only  male  bosom,  adds  the  baronet,  on 
which  their  heads  are  ever  Ukely  to  repose  and  find  protection. 

Nature  will  assert  its  claims  in  spite  of  pride  or  expediency ;  and 
accordingly  it  was  observed  that  after  the  bridegroom  had  arrived, 
and  the  marriage  procession  began  to  move  through  the  tempora- 
rily constructed  gallery,  blazing  with  light,  and  glittering  with 
bright  gems  and  brighter  eyes,  the  bride  herself  seemed  slightly 
touched,  and  Caroline  especially  grave  and  anxious  in  her  deport- 
ment. She  appeared,  for  the  first  time,  to  feel  that  her  daughter 
was  about  to  make  a  great  sacrifice,  and  her  consequent  anxiety 
was  probably  increased  by  the  conviction  that  it  was  too  late  to 
save  her  daughter  from  impending  fate.  The  king  himself  who 
had  never  been  in  the  eager  condition  of  the  seigneur  in  the  song, 
who  so  peremptorily  exclaims — 

De  ma  fille  Isabelle 
Sols  I'epoux  a  I'instant — 

manifested  more  impassibility  than  ever.     Finally,  the  knot  was 
tied  under  a  salvo  of  artillery  and  a  world  of  sighs. 

The  sublime  and  the  ridiculous  stood  in  close  familiarity  in  the 
pubhc  nuptial  chamber,  in  the  evening.  According  to  custom,  as 
before  stated,  all  the  court  met  in  this  apartment  to  congratulate 


242 


LIVES   OF  THE   QUEENS   OF  ENGLAND. 


the  newly-married  pair,  who  were  attired  in  fancy  night-dresses  of 
little  taste  and  great  splendor. 

Caroline  felt  compassion  for  her  daughter,  but  she  restrained  her 
feelings  until  her  eye  fell  upon  the  bridegroom.  In  his  silver  tissue 
night-dress,  his  light  peruque,  his  ugliness  and  his  deformity,  he 
struck  her  as  the  impersonation  of  a  monster.  His  ill  figure  was 
so  ill  dressed  that,  looked  at  from  behind,  he  appeared  to  have  no 
head,  and  seen  from  before,  he  appeared  as  if  he  had  neither  neck 
nor  legs.*  The  queen  was  wonderiully  moved  at  the  sight ;  moved 
with  pity  for  her  daughter,  and  with  indignation  at  her  husband. 
The  portion  of  the  ceremony  which  used  to  be  the  merriest  was  by 
far  the  most  mournful,  at  least  so  far  as  the  queen's  participation 
therein  was  concenied.  She  fairly  cried  with  mingled  vexation, 
disappointment,  and  disgust.  She  could  not  even  revert  to  the 
subject,  for  days  after,  without  crying,  and  yet  laughing  too,  as  the 
oddity  of  the  bridegroom's  ugliness  came  across  her  mind.  And 
indeed  that  happy  man,  although  he  could  not  have  said  of  his 
bride,  except  by  comparison, 

Grands  dieu,  combien  elle  est  jolie  ! 

he  might  with  good  reason  have  sung  of  himself — 

£t  moi,  je  suis,  je  sui  si  laid. 

It  may  be  asserted,  without  much  fear  of  contradiction,  that  a 
wedding  of  any  pretension  at  all  is  seldom  got  through  without 
offence  to  somebody.  The  wedding  of  the  Princess  Anne  was  one 
of  more  than  mere  pretensions,  and  the  ceremonial  arrano-ements 
gave  rise  to  many  ill  feelings.  The  Irish  peers,  above  all  others, 
felt  themselves  insulted,  and  were  warmly  resentful,  as  was  only 
natural  under  the  circumstances. 

Lord  Hervey  was  the  master  of  the  ceremonies  on  this  serio- 
comic occasion.  According  to  his  table  of  precedence,  the  Irish 
peers  were  to  walk  in  the  procession  after  the  entire  body  of  the 
peerage  of  Great  Britain.  This  was  putting  the  highest  Irish 
peer  beneath  the  lowest  baron  in  Britain.     The  Hibernian  lords 

*  Lord  Hervey. 


CAROLINE   WILHELMINA    DOROTHEA. 


243 


claimed  to  walk  immediately  after  the  Enghsh  and  Scotch  peers  of 
their  own  degree.     It  was  the  most  modest  claim  ever  made  by 
that  august  body ;  but  modest  a^  it  wa..,  the  arrogant  peers  of 
Great  Britain  threatened,  if  the  claim  were  allowed,  to  absent 
themselves  from  the  ceremony  altogether  !     The  case  was  repre- 
sented to  Caroline,  and  she  took  the  side  of  right  and  common  sense  j 
but  when  she  was  told  that  to  allow  the  Irish  claim  would  be  to 
banish  every  British  peer  from  the  solemn  ceremony,  she  was  weak 
enough  to  give  way.     Lord  Ilervey,  in  his  programme  for  the 
occasion,  omitted  to  make  any  mention  of  the  peers  of  Ireland  at 
all— thus   leaving  them  to  walk  -where  they  could.      On  beino- 
remonstrated  with,  he  said  that  if  the  Irish  lords  were  not  satisfied" 
he  would  keep  all  the  finery  staiulhig,and  they  might  walkthrough 
It  in  any  order  of  precedency  they  liked,  on  the  day  after  the 
wedding.     One  lord  grievously  comi)lained  of  the  omission  of  the 
illustrious   Hibernian  body  from  the  programme.     Lord  Hervey 
excused  himself  by  remarking,  that  as  the  Irish  house  of  peers  was 
then  sitting  in  Dublin,  he  never  thought,  being  an  Englishman,  of 
the  august  members  of  that  assembly  being  in  two  places  at  once. 
The  claim  was  probably  disallowed,  because  Ireland  was  not 
then  m  union  with  England,  as  Scotland  was.     On  no  other  ground 
could  the  claim  have  been  refused ;  and  Caroline  saw  tha't  even 
that  ground  was  not  a  veiy  good  one  whereon  to  rest  a  denial.    As 
It  wa<,  the  Irish  peers  felt  like  poor  relations,  neither  invited  to 
nor  prohibited  from  the  joyous  doings,  but  with  a  thorough  con- 
viction  that,  to  use  a  popular  phrase,  their  room  was  deemed  pre- 
ferable to  their  company. 

During  the  week  following  the  marriage,  Frederick  Prince  of 
^Vales  was  employed,  after  a  fashion  which  suited  his  tastes  ex- 
tremely  well,  in  escorting  his  brother-in-law  to  witness  the  si-hts 
of  London.  It  then  appears  to  have  suddenly  struck  the  govern- 
ment that  it  would  be  as  well  to  make  an  Englishman  of  the  bride- 
gix)om,  and  that  that  consummation  could  not  be  too  quickly  arriv- 
ed at.  Accordingly,  a  bill  for  naturalizing  the  prince  was  brou-ht 
in  and  read  three  times  on  the  same  day.  It,  of  course,  passed 
unanimously,  and  the  prince  received  the  intelligence  of  his  having 


244 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


been  converted  into  a  Briton  with  a  phlegm  which  showed  that  he 
had  not  ahogether  ceased  to  be  a  Dutchman. 

He  was  much  more  pleasurably  excited  in  the  April  of  the  fol- 
lowing year,  when  he  heard  that  the  king  had  sent  a  written  mes- 
sage to  the  Commons,  intimating  that  he  had  settled  five  thousand 
a  year  on  the  Princess  Royal,  and  desiring  that  they  would  enable 
him  to  make  the  grant  for  the  life  of  the  princess,  as  it  would 
otherwise  determine  on  his  majesty's  death.  The  Commons  com- 
plied with  this  message,  and  the  Prince  of  Orange  was  infinitely 
more  delighted  with  this  act  than  with  that  which  bestowed  on 
him  the  legal  rights  of  an  Englishman. 

This  pleasant  little  arrangement   having  been  concluded,  the 
prince  and  princess  set  out  for  Holland,  from  St.  James's  on  the 
10th  of  April,  1734 ;  and  in  July  of  the  same  year  the  princess 
was  again  in  England,  not  at  all  to  the  satisfaction  of  her  sire,  and 
but  very  scantily  to  the  delight  of  her  mother.     The  young  lady, 
however,  was  determined  to  remain ;  and  it  was  not  till  November 
that  she  once  more  returned  to  her  home  behind  the  dykes.     The 
queen  was  not  sorry  to  part  with  her,  for  just  then  she  was  deep 
in  the  fracas  connected  with  the  dismissal  of  her  husband's  "favor- 
ite," Lady  Suffolk,  from  her  otfice  of  mistress  of  the  robes  to  her 
majesty,  an  office  in  which  she  was  succeeded  by  the  more  worthy 
Countess  of  Tankerville.      The    king   had   the    less   time  to  be 
troubled  with  thought  about  "  that  old  deaf  woman,"  as  he  very 
ungallantly  used  to  call  his  ancient    "favorite,"   as  he  too  was 
deeply  engaged  in   protesting  against  the  Elector  Palatine,  who 
had  been  very  vigorously  protesting  against  the  right  of  the  king, 
as  Elector  of  ILinover,  to  bear  the  title  of  arch-treasurer  of  the 
empire. 

But  if  Caroline  began  to  forget  her  daughter,  Anne  was  borne 
in  remembrance  by  her  sister,  Amelia. 

The  commiseration  which  the  queen  had  felt  for  her  dau^-hter 
was  shared  by  the  sister  of  the  latter,  the  Princess  Amelia,  who 
declared  that  nothing  on  earth  could  have  induced  her  to  wed  with 
such  a  man  as  the  Prince  of  Orange.  Her  declaration  was  accept- 
ed for  as  much  as  it  was  worth.  The  gentle  Princess  Caroline, 
on  the  other  hand,  thought  that  her  sister,  under  the  circumstan- 


CAROLTNE  WILIIELMINA    DOROTHEA.  245 

ces,  had  acted  wisely,  and  that,  had  she  been  so  placed,  she  would 
have  acted  in  like  manner.  Nor  did  the  conduct  of  the  bride  give 
the  worid  any  reason  to  think  that  she  stood  in  need  of  pity.  She 
appeared  to  adore  the  "monster,"  who,  it  must  be  confessed,  ex- 
hibited no  particular  regard  for  his  spouse.  The  homage  she  paid 
Inm  was  perfect.  "  She  made  prodigious  court  to  him,"  says  Lord 
Hervey  "addressed  everjMhing  she  said  to  him,  and  applauded 
every  thnig  he  said  to  anybody  else." 

Periiaps  the  pride  of  the  princess  would  not  permit  a  doubt  to 
be  thrown  upon  her  supreme  happiness.  Her  brother  Frederick 
strove  to  mar  it  by  raising  a  quarrel,  on  a  slight  but  immensely 
absurd,  foundation.  He  reproached  her  for  the  double  fault  of 
presuming  to  be  married  before  him,  and  of  accepting  a  settlement 
from  her  f-ither,  when  he  had  none.  He  was  ingenious  in  findin^r 
fault,  but  there  may  have  been  a  touch  of  satire  in  this,  for  Anne 
was  known  to  have  been  as  groundlessly  angry  with  her  brother  for 
a  circumstance  which  he  could  not  very  well  help,  namely,  his  own 
birth,  whereby  the  Princess  Royal  ceased  to  be  next  heir  to  the 
crown. 

The  prince,  however,  was  not  much,  addicted  to  showing  respect 
to  anybody,  least  of  all  to  his  mother.  It  was  because  of  this  mis- 
erable want  of  respect  for  the  queen  that  the  king,  in  an  interview 
forced  on  him  by  his  son,  refused  to  settle  a  fixed  annuity  upon 
him,— at  least  till  he  had  manifested  a  more  praiseworthy  conduct 
towards  the  queen. 

The  anxiety  of  Frederick  on  this  occasion  was  not  unnatural, 
for  he  was  deeply  in  debt,  and  of  the   100,000/.  granted  to  the' 
prince  by  pariiamcnt  out  of  the  civil  list,  the  king  allowed  him  only 
30,000/.     The   remainder  was   appropriated   by  the   king,  who, 
doubtless,  made  his  son's  conduct  the  rule  of  his  liberality,'measu- 
ring  his  supplies  to  the  prince,  according  as  the  latter  was  well  or 
ill-beliaved.     It  was  a  degrading  position  enough,  and  the  degrada- 
tion was  heightened  by  the  silent  contempt  with  which  the  king 
passed  Over  his  son's  application  to  be  permitted  to  join  in  active 
service.     Throughout  these  first  fiimily  quarrels,  the  queen  pre- 
served a  great  impartiality,  with  some  leaning,  perhaps,  towards 
ser^'ing  her  son.     Nothing,  however,  came  of  it ;  and,  for  the  mo- 


246 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS    OF  ENGLAND. 


ment,  Frederick  was  fain  to  be  content  with  doinir  the  honors  of 
the  metropolis  to  his  ungraceful  brother-in-law. 

The  congratulatory  addresses  which  were  presented  on  the  oc- 
casion of  the  marriage,  had  a  mordantly  satirical  tone  about  them. 
It  is  wonderful  how  George  and  Caroline,  whose  unpopularity  was 
increasing  at  this  time,  continued  to  preserve  their  equanimity  at 
hearing  praises  rung  on  the  name  and  services  of  "  Orange," — the 
name  of  a  prince  who  had  become  king  of  England,  by  rendering 
the  questionable  service  to  hisfather-in-lmcy  of  turning  him  otf  the 
throne. 

The  address  of  the  lords  to  the  queen,  especially  congratulating 
the  mother  on  the  marriage  of  her  daughter,  was  rendered  painful 
instead  of  pleasant  by  its  being  presented,  that  is,  spoken,  to  her 
by  Lord  Chesterfield.  Caroline  had  never  seen  this  peer  since  the 
time  he  was  dismissed  from  her  husband's  household,  when  she 
was  Princess  of  Wales.  He  had  not  been  presented  at  court  since 
the  accession  of  the  present  sovereign,  and  the  queen  wiis  therefore 
resolved  to  treat  as  an  utter  stranger,  the  man  who  had  been  im- 
pertinent enough  to  declare  he  designed  that  the  step  he  took 
should  be  considered  as  a  oempliment  to  the  queen.  The  latter 
abhorred  him  nevertlicless  for  his  present  attempt  to  tura  the  com- 
pliment, addressed  to  her  by  the  lords,  into  a  joke.  Before  he 
appeared,  Caroline  intimated  her  determination  not  to  let  the  peer's 
cool  impertinence  awe  or  disconcert  her.  lie  really  did  find  what 
she  declared  he  should,  that  **  it  was  as  little  in  his  power  for  his 
presence  to  embarrass  her,  as  for  his  raillery  behind  her  back  to 
pique  her,  or  his  consummate  skill  iii  politics  to  distress  the  kind- 
er his  ministers."* 

The  queen  acted  up  to  this  resolution.  She  received  Lords 
Chesterfield,  Scarborough,  and  ILiixlwicke,  the  bearers  of  the  ad- 
dress, in  her  bedchamber,  no  one  else  being  present  but  her  chil- 
dren and  Lord  Hervey,  who  stood  behind  her  chair.  Tlie  la>t- 
named  nobleman,  in  describing  the  scene,  says  :  '*  Lord  Chester- 
field's speech  was  well  written  and  well  got  by  heart, 'and  yet 
delivered  with  a  faltering  voice,  a  face  as  white  as  a  sheet,  and 

*  Lord  Hervey. 


CAROLINE   WILIIELMINA    DOROTHEA. 


247 


every  limb  trembling  with  concern.  The  queen's  answer  was 
quiet  and  natural,  and  delivered  with  the  same  ease  that  she  would 
hiive  spoken  to  the  most  indififerent  person  m  her  circle." 

Caroline,  however,  had  more  serious  matters  to  attend  to  during 
this  year  than  affairs  of  marriage.  Of  these  we  will  now  briefly 
speak. 

Sir  Robert  Walpole's  celebrated  Excise  scheme  was  prolific  in 
raising  political  agitations,  and  excituig  both  political  and  personal 
passions.  The  peers  were,  strangely  enough,  even  more  resolute 
against  the  measure  than  the  Commons, — or  perhaps  it  would  be 
more  correct  to  say,  that  a  i^rtion  of  them  took  advantage  of  the 
popular  feeling  to  further  thereby  their  own  particular  interests 
and  especial  objects. 

It  is  again  illustrative  of  the  power  and  influence  of  Caroline, 
and  of  the  esteem  in  which  she  was  held,  that  a  body  of  the  peers 
delegated  Lord  Stair  to  proceed  to  the  queen,  at  Kensington,  and 
remonstrate  with  her  upon  the  unconstitutional  and  destructive 
measure,  as  they  designated  the  excise  project. 

Lord  Stair  was  a  bold  man,  and  was  accustomed  to  meet  and 
contend  with  sovereigns.     He  had  not  only  on  many  an  occasion 
foiled  the  king  and  the  Regent  of  France,  but  he  had  defeated  the 
Polish  monarch  in  a  way  he  loved  to  boast  of     That  potentate, 
when  Lord  Stair  was  residing  at  Warsaw,  once  very  much  aston- 
ished the  Scotch  nobleman,  by  exhibiting  a  feat  which  he  accom- 
plished with  singular  strength  and  dexterity.     It  was  tliis :  grasp- 
ing a  sword,  and  giving  it  a  peculiar  swing,  or  twist  in  the  air, 
ending  with  a  sudden  jerk,  he  would  cause  the  blade  to  break  off 
close  at  the  handle.     He  boasted  that  he  could  produce  the  same 
effect  with  any  sword.     Lord  Stair  defied  him  to  the  trial,  and 
brought  him  a  stout  Scottish  broadsword,  which  successfully  re- 
sisted all  the  attempts,  strength,  and  skill  of  the  iron-wristed  mon- 
arch, to  fracture  it.     He  acknowledged  his  defeat,  and  struck  a 
medal  to  commemorate  that  rare  occurrence.     On  one  side  was  the 
emblazoned  shield  of  Poland,  on  the  other  a  naked  arm  brandish, 
ish  a  sword,  with  the  motto  beneath.  Vis  tandem  incEqualis.     Lord 
Stair,  so  accustomed  to  foil  sovereigns,  had  no  doubt  of  being  able 
to  turn  Caroline  to  his  purpose.     But  the  queen  twisted  him  as 


248 


LIVES   OF  THE    QUEENS   OF   ENGLAND. 


Augustus  had  the  weapons  of  continental  manufacture.     She  shiv- 
ered the  Scottish  blade  to  boot ;  and  the  noble  lord  himself  might 

have  retired  from  the  inter^-iew  muttering,  lis  tandem  incequaUs, 

Mj  strength  has  at  length  been  unequal  to  what  it  was  tried  upon. 

And  no  wonder ;  for  never  did  delegate  pertbmi  his  mission  so 
awkwardly.  He  thought  to  awaken  the  queen's  indignation  against 
TValpole,  bv  imparting  to  her  the  valuable  admonitoiy  knowledge 
that  she  was  ruled  by  that  subtle  statesman.  He  iimcied  he  im- 
proved his  position  by  informing  her  that  Widpole  was  universally 
hated,  that  he  was  no  gentleman,  and  that  he  was  as  ill-looking  as 
he  was  ill-inclined.  He  even  forgot  his  mission,  save  when  he 
spoke  of  tidehty  to  his  constituents,  by  going  into  purely  personal 
matters,  railing  at  the  minister  whose  very  shoe-buckles  he  had 
kissed,  in  oi-der  to  be  appointed  vice-admiral  of  Scotland,  when  the 
Duke  of  Queensberry  was  ejected  from  that  post, — and  accusing 
Walpole  of  being  manifestly  untrue  to  the  trust  which  he  held, 
seeing  that  whenever  there  was  an  office  to  dispose  ot;  he  invaria- 
bly preferred  giving  it  to  the  CampbeUs  rather  than  to  him,— 
Stair.  To  the  CampbeUs! — he  reiterated,  as  if  the  very  name 
were  enough  to  rouse  Ciiroline  ag;\inst  Walpole.— To  the  Camp- 
bells :  who  tried  to  rule  England  by  means  of  the  kmg's  mistress ; 
opposed  to  governing  it  by  means  of  the  king  s  wife. 

Caroline  heard  him  with  decent  and  civil  patience  until  he  had 
gone  through  his  list  of  private  grievances,  and  began  to  meddle 
with  matters  pe^^onal  to  herself  and  the  royal  hearth,— if  I  may 
use  such  a  term.  She  then  burst  fonh,  and  she  was  superb  in  her 
rebuke, — superb  in  its  matter  and  manner, — superb  in  her  dignity 
and  in  the  severity  with  which  she  crushed  Lord  Stair  beneath 
her  tienr  sarcasms  and  her  wiihering  contempt.  She  ridiculed  his 
assertions  of  fidelity,  and  told  him  he  had  become  traitor  to  his 
own  country,  and  the  betrayer  of  his  own  constituents.  She 
mocked  his  complacent  assurances  that  his  object  was  not  pergonal 
but  patriotic.  She  professed  her  intense  abhorrence  of  havinj-the 
private  dusentions  ot  noblemen  ripped  open  in  her  presence,  and 
bade  him  learn  better  manners  than  to  speak,  as  he  had  done,  of 
••  the  king's  servants  to  the  king's  wife." 
-  Mv  conscience."  s.iid  Lord  .Stair. 


CAROLI.VE  WILHELMIXA  DOEOTHEA  249 

"orTlTil^'ir^  -science,  my  lord,"  said  Caroline, 

or  I  snau  lamt.      The  conversation  was  in  French   anH  ,\.l 

queen's  precise  words  were  ^  \e  me  nnrl.        .    '^'"^'''  ^""^  ">« 

milord;  vous  me  fai.es  cv^oulv'        '  ^""  '^  ''"""^°<^^' 

ir  s  dei'^d  ::i'  "'  "'  T^^'  "  ^o-  ^'-  t™hie,"-The 

Ten^^wirlte'r  "^  'T^^  '^  '^^^  ^^^ 
uen  .ue  wa,  m  the  humor,  and  opportunity  offered 

terJ  ::  ZZul  f  7T'  "'t  ""^  '-''--  of  *«  PHvate  in- 
*ci*itw  ^noula  not  be  further  ^nnkpn  r.^     r<^    i- 

she  mu<t  Imvp  f.w  ^  ^^  Caroline  consented,  and 

-^lon,  Carteret  had  observed  that,  at  the  period  when 
*  I>or«i  Hervey. 


250 


LIVES  OF  THE    QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


Cardinal  Mazarin  was  ruining  France  by  his  oppressive  measures, 
a  great  man  sought  an  audience  of  the  queen  (Anne  of  Austria, 
mother  of  the  young  King  Louis  XIV.,)  and  after  explaining  to 
her  the  perils  of  the  times,  ended  with  the  remark  that  she  was 
maintaining  a  man  at  the  helm,  who  deserved  to  be  rowing  in  the 
galleys. 

Caroline  immediately  knew  that  Lord  Stair  had  revealed  what 
he  had  petitioned  her  to  keep  secret ;  and  feeling  that  she  was 
thereby  exonerated  from  observing  further  silence,  her  majesty 
took  the  opportunity  to  **  out  with  it  all,"  as  she  said  in  not  less 
choice  French  :  '*  J'ai  pris  la  premiere  occasion  d'cgosiller  tout." 

Reverting  to  Carteret's  illustration,  she  observed  that  the  *'  <^reat 
man  "  noticed  by  him  was  Conde,  a  man  who  never  had  a  word  to 
say  against  Mazarin,  as  long  as  the  cardinal  fed  a  rapacity  which 
could  never  be  satisfied.  This  was,  in  some  degree,  Stair's  posi- 
tion with  regard  to  Walpole.  *'  Conde,  in  his  interview  with  the 
Queen  of  France,"  observed  the  well-read  queen  of  Plngland,  "had 
for  his  object  to  impose  upon  her  and  France,  by  endeavoring  to 
persuade  her  that  his  private  resentments  were  only  a  conscijuence 
of  his  zeal  for  the  public  service." 

Lord  Hervey,  very  gallantly  and  courtier-like,  expressed  his 
wish  that  her  majesty  could  have  been  in  the  house  to  let  the  sen- 
ate know  her  wisdom;  or  that  she  could  have  been  concealed 
there,  to  have  had  the  opportunity  of  saying  with  Agrippine, — 

Derritre  une  voile,  invisil>Ie,  et  presente, 

Je  fus  de  ce  grand  corps  lame  toute  puissante. 

The  quotation,  periiaps,  could  not  have  been  altogether  appli- 
cable, but  as  Lord  Hervey  quoted  it,  and  "  my  lord "  was  a  man 
of  wit,  it  is  doubtless  as  well-placed  as  wit  could  make  it.  The 
queen,  at  all  events,  took  it  as  a  compliment,  laughed,  and 
declared,  that  often  when  she  was  with  these  impatient  fellows, 
ever  ready  with  their  unreasonable  remonstrances,  she  was 
tempted  herself  to  say,  with  Agrippine,  that  she  was — 

Fille,  femme,  et  mere  de  vos  malt  res, 

a  quotation  less  applicable  even  than  the  former,  but  in  which 


( 


CAROLINE    WILHELMINA    DOROTHEA.  251 

Lord  Hervey  detected  such  abundance  of  wit  that  he  went  into  a 
sort  of  ecstasy  of  dehght  at  the  queen's  judgment,  humor,  know- 
ledge  and  ability. 

AVhen  the  Excise  bill  was  for  the  first  time  brought  before  the 
hous«,  the  debate  lasted  till  one  in  the  morning.  Lord  Hervey 
during  the  evening,  wrote  an  account  of  its  progress  to  the  king 
and  queen;  and  when  he  repaired  to  the  palace  at  the  conclusion 
of  the  discussion,  the  king  kept  him  in  the  queen's  bed-chamber 
talking  over  the  scene,  till  three  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  never 
for  a  moment  remembered  that  the  hungry  intelligencer  had  not 
dined  since  the  yesterday. 

When  the  clamor  against  the  biU  rose  to  such  a  pitch  that  aU 
England,  the  army  included,  seemed  ready  to  rise  against  it,  Wal- 
pole   offered  himself  as  a  personal  sacrifice,  if  the  service  and 
mterests  of  the  king  would  be  promoted  by  his  surrender  of  office 
and  power.     It  is  again  illustrative  of  the  influence  of  Caroline 
that  this  offer  was  made  to  her  and  not  to  the  kinc^.     He  wa«  in 
truth  the  queen's  minister;  and  nobly  she  stood  by  him.     When 
AValpole  made  the  oflfer  in  question,  Caroline  declared  that  she 
»x,uld  not  be  so  mean,  so  cowardly,  or  so  ungrateful  as  to  abandon 
nm  ;  and  she  infused  the  same  spirit  into  the  king.     The  latter 
had  intended,  from  tlie  first,  to  reign  and  govern,  and  be  effectively 
h«  own  minister;  but  Caroline  so  wrought  upon  him,  that  he 
thought  he  had   of  himself  reached  the  conviction  that  it  was 
necessary  for  him  to  trust  in  a  minister,  and  that  Walpole  was  the 
fittest  man  for  .ucli  an  office.    And  so  he  grew  to  love  the  very 
man  whom  he  had  been  wont  to  hold  in  his  heart's  extremest  hate. 
He  would  even  occasionally  speak  of  him  as  « a  noble  fellow," 
and,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  he  would  listen  to  an  account  of  some 
courageous  stand  Walpole   had   made   in  the  house  against  the 
enemies  of  the  government,  and  he  would  add  the  while  a  runnin" 
commentary  of  sobs.  ° 

The  queen's  greatest  triumph  was  this  overcoming  of  her  hus- 
band's ix^rsonal  hatred  for  Walpole.  It  could  not  have  been  an 
achievement  easy  to  be  accomplished.  But  her  art  in  effecting 
such  achievements  was  supreme,  and  she  alone  could  turn  to  her 
own  purpose  the  caprices  of  a  hot-headed  man,  of  whom  it  lias 


252 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF   ENGLAND. 


been  said,  that  he  was  of  iron  obstinacy,  but  that  he  was  unlike 
iron  in  tliis,  that  the  hotter  he  became,  the  more  impossible  it  was 
to  bend  him.  Caroline  found  him  pliant  when  she  found  him 
cool.  But  then,  too,  he  was  most  waiy,  and  it  was  necessary  so 
to  act,  as  to  cause  every  turn  which  she  compelled  him  to  make, 
appear  to  himself  as  if  it  were  the  result  of  liis  own  unbiassed 
volition. 

Supremely  able  as  Caroline  was,  she  could  not,  however,  always 
conceal  her  emotion.  Thus,  at  this  very  period  of  the  agitation 
of  the  Excise  bill,  on  being  told,  at  one  of  her  evening  drawinfi^- 
rooms,  of  the  difficulties  and  dangers  which  beset  the  path  of  the 
government,  she  burst  into  tears,  became  unusually  excited,  and 
finally  affecting,  and  perhaps  feeling,  headache  and  vapors,  she 
broke  up  her  quadrille  party,  and  betrayed  in  her  outward  manner 
an  apparent  conviction  of  impending  calamity.  She  evinced  the 
same  weakness  on  being  told,  on  a  subsequent  evening,  that  AVal- 
pole  was  in  a  majority  of  only  seventeen.  Such  a  small  majority 
she  felt  was  a  defeat ;  and,  on  this  occasion,  she  again  burst  into 
tears,  and  for  the  first  time  expressed  a  fear  that  the  court  mitst  give 
way !  The  sovereign  was,  at  the  same  time,  as  strong  within  her 
as  the  woman ;  and  when  she  heard  of  the  subordinate  holders  of 
government  posts  voting  against  the  minister,  or  declining  to  vote 
with  him,  she  bitterly  denounced  them,  exclaiming,  that  they  who 
refused  to  march  with  their  leader  were  as  guilty  as  they  who 
openly  deserted,  and  that  both  merited  condign  punishment.* 

The  king  on  this  occasion  was  as  excited  as  his  consort,  but  he 
manifested  his  feelings  in  a  different  way.  lie  made  Lord  Ilervey 
repeat  the  names  of  those  who  thwarted  the  views  of  the  crown, 
and  he  grunted  forth  an  angry  commentary  at  each  name.  "  Lord 
John  Cavendish,"  began  Her\'ey.  ''A  fool!''  snorted  the  king. 
"  Lord  Charles  Cavendish."  "  Half  mad!"  "  Sir  William  Low- 
ther."  "^  whimsical  fellow!''  "Sir  Thomas  Prendcrgast." 
"^n  Irish  blockhead!''  "Lord  Tyrconnell."  " ^ /7w/>^y,"  said 
George,  "  who  never  votes  twice  on  the  same  side!" 

On  the  other  hand,  the  populace  made  their  comment  on  the 


/ 


CAROLINE  WILHELMINA  DOROTHEA.       253 

proceedings  of  the  court.  It  was  rendered  in  a  highly  popular 
.  way,  and  with  much  significancy.  In  the  city  of  London,  for  in- 
stance,  the  mob  hung  in  em^y  Sir  Robert  Walpole  and  a  fat 
woman  The  male  figure  was  duly  ticketed.  The'female  effi-y 
was  well  understood  to  mean  the  queen. 

//.r  power  would,  after  all,  not  have  followed,  in  its  fall,  that  of 

VValpoe.     Lord  Ilervey  remarks,  that  had  he  retired,   Caroline 

would  have  placed  before  the  king  the  names  of  a  new  ministry, 

and   that   the   administration   would   not   have   hung  together  a 

moment  after  it  had  outlived  her  liking. 

In  the  meantime,  her  indefatigabillty  was  great.     At  the  suff- 
gestion.  It  ^   supposed,   of  Walpole,  she  sent  for  the  Bishop  of 
Salisbury,  Dr.   Hoadly,  who  impaired  to  the  interview  with  his 
weak  pei-son  and  stately  independence,  if  one  may  so  speak,  up- 
held byhis"crutched  stick."     His  power  must  have  been  con- 
sidered  very  great,  and  so  must  his  caprice ;  for  he  was  frequently 
sent  or  by  Caroline,  remonstrated  with  for  supposed  rebellion,  or 
urged  to  expert  all  his  good  offices  in  support  of  the  crown.     It  is 
ditiicult  to  believe  that  the  lengthy  speeches  reported  by  Ilervey 
were  actually  delivered  by  queen  and  bishop.     There  is  nothincr 
longer  m  Livy,  and  we  are  not  told  that  any  one  took  them  down! 
Substantially,  however,  they  may  be  true.     The  queen  was  in- 
sinuatmg,  complimentary^  suggestive  and  audacious ;   the  bishop 
all  duty,  submission  and  promise,-as  far  as  his  consistency  and 
pnnciples  could  be  engaged.     But,  after  all,  the  immense  moun- 
tain of  anxiety  and  stratagem  was  reared  in  vain,  for  Walpole 
withdrew  his  bill,  and  Caroline  felt  that  England  was  but  nomi- 
nally a  monarchy. 


Lord  Hervey. 


i 


254 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND, 


CHAPTEB  IV. 

FAMILY   AND    NATIONAL    QUARRELS. 

The  year  1734  was  marked  by  the  retirement  from  court  of 
the  lady  whom  it  w^as  the  fashion  to  call  the  queen's  rival.  Mrs. 
Howard,  on  becoming  Countess  of  Suffolk,  by  the  accession  of 
her  husband  to  the  eai-ldom,  in  1731,  had  been  raised  to  the  office 
of  mistress  of  the  robes  to  the  queen.  Iler  husband  died  two 
years  subsequently ;  and,  shortly  after,  the  king's  widowed  favorite 
was  sought  in  marriage  by  another  suitor. 

Her  departure  from  court  was  doubtless  principally  caused  by 
this  new  prospect  of  a  happier  life.  It  may  have  been  accelerated 
by  other  circumstances.  Lord  Chesterfield,  angrj'  with  the  queen 
for  forgetting  to  exert  her  promised  influence  for  him  in  obtaining 
some  favor,  applied  to  Lady  Suffolk,  and  informed  the  queen  of 
the  course  he  had  taken.  Caroline  thereon  told  the  kino^  that  she 
had  had  some  petition  to  present  on  Lord  Chesterfield's  behalf, 
but  that  as  he  had  intrusted  it  to  Lady  Suffolk's  presenting,  her 
own  influence  would  probably  be  unavailing.  The  king,  fired  at 
the  implied  affront  to  his  consort,  treated  his  old  mistress,  now 
nearly  half  a  century  in  years,  with  such  severity,  that  she  begged 
to  be  permitted  to  withdraw.  Such  is  the  *'  legend,"  and  probably 
some  approximation  to  the  truth  is  to  be  made  out  of  the  various 
details.  Certain  it  is  that  Lady  Suffolk  brought  her  Ion"-  career 
at  court  to  a  close  in  this  year,  previous  to  her  marria^^e  with  the 
Honorable  George  Berkely,  younger  son  of  the  second*  Earl  of 
Berkely.  He  was  Master  of  St.  Catherine's  in  the  Tower,  and 
had  served  in  two  parliaments  as  member  for  Dover.  Horace 
Walpole,  who  knew  Lady  Suffolk  intimately  when  she  was  resid- 
ing at  Marble  Hill,  Twickenham,  and  he  at  Strawberry  Hill,  says 


CAROLINE   WILHELMINA    DOROTHEA. 


255 


of  her,  that  she  was  what  may  be  summed  up  in  the  word  "  lady- 
like." She  was  of  a  good  height,  well  made,  extremely  fair,  with 
the  finest  light-brown  hair,  was  remarkably  genteel,  and  was  always 
dressed  with  ta^te  and  simplicity.  These  were  her  personal 
charms,  he  adds,  "  for  her  face  was  regular  and  agreeable  rather 
than  beautiful,  and  those  charms  she  retained,  with  little  diminu- 
tion, to  her  death,  at  the  age  of  seventy-nine"  (in  July,  1767). 
He  does  not  speak  highly  of  her  mental  qualifications,  but  states 
that  she  was  grave,  and  mild  of  character,  had  a  strict  love  of  truth, 
and  was  rather  apt  to  be  circumstantial  upon  trifles.  The  years 
of  her  life,  after  her  withdrawal  from  court,  were  passed  in  a  de- 
cent, dignified,  and  "  respectable"  manner,  and  won  for  her  a  con- 
sideration which  her  earlier  career  had  certainly  not  merited. 

The  queen's  influence  was  ever  stronger  than  the  favorite's 
credit.  "  Except  a  barony,  a  red  riband,  and  a  good  place  for  her 
brother.  Sir  John  Hobart,  Eari  of  Buckinghamshire,  Lady  Suffolk 
could  succeed  but  in  very  subordinate  recommendations.  Her 
own  acquisitions  were  so  moderate,  that  besides  Marble  Hill, 
which  cost  the  king  ten  or  twelve  thousand  pounds,  her  complais- 
ance had  not  been  too  deariy  purchased.  She  left  the  court  with 
an  income  so  little  to  be  envied,  that  though  an  economist,  and  not 
expensive,  by  the  lapse  of  some  annuities  on  lives  not  so  prolonged 
as  her  own,  she  found  herself  straitened,  and,  besides  Marble  Hill 
did  not  at  most  leave  twenty  thousand  pounds  to  her  family.  On 
quitting  court,  she  married  Mr.  George  Berkely,  and  outlived 
him."  ♦ 

It  is  not  certain  how  far  Caroline's  influence  was  exercised  in 
the  removal  of  Lady  Suffolk,  whom  the  queen,  according  to  some 
authors,  requested  to  continue  some  time  longer  in  her  olficc  of 
mistress  of  the  robes.  Nor  is^  it  important  to  ascertain.  Caroline 
had  higher  duties  to  perform.  She  continued  to  serve  her  husband 
well,  and  she  showed  her  opinion  of  her  son,  the  Prince  of  Wales, 
by  her  conduct  to  him  on  more  than  one  occasion.  Thus,  on  New 
Year's  Day  the  prince  attended  his  royal  sire's  levee,  not  with  any 
idea  of  paying  his  father  the  slightest  measure  of  respect,  but,  sus- 

*  Wa]poIe. 


ii 


266 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


pecting  that  the  king  would  not  speak  to  him,  to  show  the  people 
with  what  contempt  the  homage  of  a  dutiful  son  was  met  by  a 
stern  parent ; — when  Caroline  heard  of  the  design,  she  simply  per- 
suaded the  king  to  address  his  son  kindly  in  public.  This  advice 
was  followed,  and  the  filial  plot  accordingly  failed. 

The  queen  was  as  resolute  in  supporting  the  king  against  being 
driven  ujto  settling  a  permanent  income  upon  the  prince.  She 
spoke  of  the  latter  as  an  extravagant  and  unprincipled  fool,  only 
less  ignorant  than  those  who  were  idiots  enough  to  give  opinions 
upon  what  they  could  not  understand.  *'  He  costs  the  king  50,000/. 
a-year,  and  till  he  is  married,  that  may  really  be  called  a  reasona- 
ble allowance."  She  stigmatized  him  as  a  "  poor  creature,"  easily 
led  away,  but  not  naturally  bad-hearted.  His  seducers  she  treated 
as  knaves,  fools,  and  monsters.  To  the  suggestion  that  a  fixed 
allowance,  even  if  it  should  be  less  than  what  the  king  paid  out  for 
him  every  year,  would  be  better  than  the  present  plan,  Caroline 
only  replied  that  the  king  thought  otherwise,  and  so  the  matter 
rested. 

The  tact  of  the  queen  was  further  displayed  in  the  course  adopted 
by  her  on  an  occasion  of  some  delicacy.  Loixl  Stair  had  been  de- 
prived of  his  regiment  for  attempting  to  bring  in  a  law  whereby 
the  commissions  of  othcers  should  be  secured  to  them  for  life. 
The  king  said  he  would  not  allow  him  to  keep  by  favor  what  he 
had  endeavored  to  keep  by  force.  Thereupon  Lord  Stair  addressed 
a  private  letter  to  the  queen,  through  her  lord-chamberlain,  stuffed 
with  prophetic  warnings  against  the  machinations  of  France  and 
the  designs  of  AValpole. 

Caroline,  on  becoming  acquainted  with  the  contents  of  the  epis- 
tle, rated  her  chamberlain  soundly,  and  bade  him  take  it  instantly 
to  Su-  Robert  Walpole,  with  a  request  to  the  latter  to  lay  it  before 
the  king.  She  thus  "  vfity  dexterously  avoided  the  danger  of  con- 
cealing such  a  letter  from  the  king,  or  giving  Sir  Robert  Walpole 
any  cause  of  jealousy  from  showuig  it."  His  majesty  very  senten- 
tiously  observed  upon  the  letter,  that  Lord  Stair  "  was  a  puppy 
for  writing  it,  and  the  lord-chamberlain  a  fool  for  bringing  it." 
The  good  chamberlain  was  a  fool  for  other  reasons  also.  He  had 
no  more  rational  power  than  a  yegetable,  and  his  solitary  political 


CAROLINE   WILHELMINA    DOROTHEA. 


257 


Rentiment  was  to  this  effect,  and  wrapped  up  in  veiy  bad  English: 
1  hate  the  French,  and  I  hope  as  we  shall  beat  the  French."  * 
The  times  were  growing  warlike,  and  it  was  on  the  occasion  of 
the  Pnnce  of  Orange  going  to  the  camp  of  Prince  Eugene,  that 
the  Prmcess  Anne  returned  to  England.    She  was  as  arrogant  and 
as  boldly  six>ken  as  ever.     In  the  latter  respect  she  manifested 
much  of  the  spirit  of  her  mother.     During  her  stay  at  court,  the 
news  of  the  surrender  of  Phillipsburg  reached  this  country.     Her 
highness's  remark  thereon,  in  especial  reference  to  her  royal  father 
IS  worth  quoting.     It  was  addressed  to  Lord  Hervey,  who  was' 
leading  the  princess  to  her  own  apartment  after  the  drawing-room. 
"  Was  there  ever  anything  so  uuiiccountable,"  she  said,  shru-^^in- 
up  her  shoulders,  "  as  the  temper  of  papa  ?    He  has  been  snapping 
and  snubbing  every  mortal  for  this  week,  because  he  began  to  think 
Plnllipsburg  would  be  taken ;  and  this  very  day,  that  he  actually 
hears  it  is  taken,  he  is  in  as  good  humor  as  I  ever  saw  him  in  in 
my  life.     To  tell  you  the  truth,"  she  added,  in  French,  "  I  find 
that  so  whimsical,  and  (between  ourselves)  so  utterly  foolish,  that 
I  am  more  enraged  by  his  good,  than  I  was  before  by  his'  bad 
humor."  ^  ' 

**  Perhaps,"  answered  Lord  Hervey,  «  he  may  be  about  Phillips- 
burg as  David  was  about  the  child,  who,  whilst  it  was  sick,  fa.«ted 
lay  upon  the  earth,  and  covered  himself  with  ashes,  but  the  moment 
it  was  dead,  got  up,  shaved  his  beard,  and  drank  wine."  "  It  may 
be  like  David,"  said  the  prii#ess-royal,  -  but  I  am  sure  it  is  not 
like  Solomon." 

It  was  hardly  the  time  for  Solomons.  Lord  Chancellor  King 
was  a  man  of  the  people,  who,  by  talent,  integrity,  and  persever- 
ance, rose  to  the  highest  rank  to  which  a  lawyer  can  work  his  way. 
He  lost  his  popularity  almost  as  soon  as  lie  acquired  the  seals,  and 
these  he  was  ultimately  compelled,  from  growmg  imbecility  of 
mind,  to  resign.  He  was  the  most  dilatory  in  rendering  judgments 
of  all  our  chancellors,  and  would  never  willingly  have  decided  a 
question,  for  fear  he  should  decide  it  incorrectly.  This  character- 
istic, joined  to  the  fact  of  his  having  published  a  history  of  the 


Lord  Hervey. 


258 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


Apostles*  Creed,  extorted  from  Caroline  the  smart  saying,  that 
**  He  was  just  in  the  law  what  he  had  formerly  been  in  the  Gospel, 
making  creeds  upon  the  one  without  any  steady  belief,  and  judg- 
ments in  the  other  without  any  settled  opinion.  But  the  mi^for- 
tune  for  the  public  is,"  said  Caroline,  "that  though  they  could 
reject  his  silly  creeds,  they  are  forced  often  to  submit  to  his  silly 
judgments." 

The  court  private  life  of  the  sovereigns  at  this  time  was  as  dull 
as  can  well  be  imagined.  There  were  two  persons  who  shared  in 
tliis  life,  and  who  were  very  miserably  paid  for  their  trouble. 
These  were  the  Count  de  Roncy  and  his  sister.  They  were 
French  Protestants,  who,  for  conscience'  sake,  had  surrendered 
their  all  in  France,  and  taken  refuge  in  England.  The  count  was 
created  Earl  of  Litford  in  Ireland.  His  sister,  Lady  Charlotte  de 
Roncy,  was  governess  to  the  younger  children  of  George  II. 
Every  night  in  the  country,  and  thrice  a  week  when  the  king  and 
queen  were  in  town,  this  couple  passed  an  hour  or  two  with  the 
king  and  queen  before  they  retired  to  bed.  During  this  time  "  the 
king  walked  about,  and  talked  to  the  brother  of  armies,  or  to  the 
sister  of  genealogies,  while  the  queen  knotted  and  yawned,  till  from 
yawning  she  came  to  nodding,  and  from  nodding  to  snoring."* 

This  amiable  pair,  who  had  lived  in  England  during  four  reigns, 
were  in  fact,  and  were  so  accounted,  hard-worked,  ill-paid  court- 
drudges  ;  too  ill-paid,  even,  to  apj^ear  decently  clad ;  an  especial 
reproach  upon  Caroline,  as  the  la(#  was  the  governess  of  her  chil- 
dren. But  they  were  not  harder  worked,  in  one  respect,  than  Car- 
oline herself,  who  passed  seven  or  eight  hours,  tite-a-(ete,  with  the 
I  king,  every  day,  ^  generallv  saving  what  she  did  not  think,"  says 
Lord  Hervey,  "  and  forced,  like  a  spider,  to  spin  out  of  her  own 
bowels,  all  the  conversation  with  which  the  fly  was  taken."  The 
king  could  bear  neither  reading  nor  being  read  to.  But,  for  the 
sake  of  power,  though  it  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  affection  had 
not  some  part  in  intluencing  Caroline  to  undergo  such  heavy  trial, 
ghe  endured  that  willingly,  and  indeed  much  more  thim  that. 

At  all  events,  she  had  some  respect  for  her  husbaud ;  but  she 

*  Lord  Hervey. 


CAROLINE  WILHELMINA    DOROTHEA. 


259 


despised  the  son,  who,  in  spite  of  her  opinion  of  the  natural  good- 
ness of  his  heart,  was  mean  and  mendacious.  The  prince,  moreover, 
was  weaker  of  understanding,  and  more  obstinate  of  temper  than 
his  father.  The  latter,  we  repeat,  hated  him,  and  because  of  that 
hatred,  his  brother  the  Duke  of  Cumberland  was  promoted  to  pub- 
lic employment,  and  his  sisters  betrayed  him.  Had  Caroline  not 
had  a  contempt  for  him,  she  would  have  influenced  the  king  to  a 
very  different  line  of  conduct. 

It  was  said  of  Frederick,  that,  from  his  German  education,  he 
was  more  of  a  German  than  an  Englishman.  But  the  bias  alluded 
to  was  not  stronger  in  him  than  it  was  in  his  mother. 

Caroline  was  so  much  more  of  a  German  than  of  an  English 
woman,  that  when  the  interests  of  Germany  were  concerned  she 
was  always  ready  to  sacrifice  the  interests  of  England.  Her 
daughter  Anne  would  have  liad  Europe  deluged  in  blood  for  the 
mere  sake  of  increasing  her  o^^^l  and  her  husband's  importance.  *  In 
a  general  war,  she  thought  he  would  come  to  the  surface.  Caroline 
was  disinclined  to  go  to  war  for  the  empire,  only  because  she  feared 
that,  in  the  end,  there  might  be  war  m  England,  with  the  English 
crown  for  the  stake. 

There  was  at  this  time  in  London  a  dull  and  proud  imperial 
envoy,  named  Count  Kiuski.  He  was  haughty  and  impertinent  in 
his  manner  of  demanding  succor,  as  his  master  was  in  requii-inw 
it,  from  the  Dutch.  Caroline  rallied  him  on  this,  one  day,  as  he 
was  riding  by  the  side  of  her  carriage  at  a  stag-hunt.  She  used  a 
very  homely  and  not  a  very  nice  illustration,  to  show  the  absurdity 
of  losing  an  end  by  foolishly  neglecting  the  proper  means.  "  If  a 
handkerchief  hiy  before  me,"  said  she,  ''  and  I  felt  I  had  a  dirty 
nose,  my  good  Count  Kiuski,  do  you  think  I  should  beckon  the 
handkerchief  to  come  to  me,  or  stoop  to  take  it  up  ?"  * 

Political  matters  were  not  neglected  at  these  hunting  parties. 
Lord  Her\ey,  "  her  child,  her  pupil,  and  her  charge,"  who  con- 
stantly rode  by  the  side  of  her  carriage,  on  a  hunter  which  she  had 
given  him,  and  which  could  not  have  been  of  much  use  to  him  ii 
he  never  quitted  the  side  of  his  mistress,  used  to  discuss  politics 


*  Lord  Hervey. 


260 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


while  others  followed  the  stag.  The  queen,  who  was  fourteen 
years  older  than  he,  used  to  say,  "  It  is  well  I  am  so  old,  or  I 
should  be  talked  of  because  of  this  creature !"  And  indeed  the 
intercourse  was  constant  and  familiar.  He  was  always  with  her 
when  she  took  breakfast,  which  she  usually  did  alone,  and  was  her 
chief  friend  and  companion  when  the  king  was  absent.  Such  fa- 
miliarity gave  him  considerable  freedom,  which  the  queen  jokingly 
called  impertinence,  and  said  that  he  indulged  in  that  and  in  con- 
tradicting her  because  he  knew  that  she  could  not  live  without  him. 
It  was  at  a  hunting  party  that  Lord  Hervey  endeavored  to 
convince  her  that,  for  England  to  go  to  war  for  the  purpose  of 
servmg  the  empire,  would  be  a  disastrous  course  to  take.  He  could 
not  convince  her  in  a  long  conversation,  and  thereupon,  the  chase 
being  over,  he  sat  down  and  penned  a  political  pamphlet,  which  he 
called  a  letter,  which  was  "  as  long  as  a  *  President's  Message,'  and 
which  he  forwarded  to  the  queen."  If  Caroline  was  not  to  be 
persuaded  by  it,  she  at  least  thought  none  the  worse  of  the  writer, 
who  had  spared  no  argument  to  support  the  cause  in  which  he 
boldly  pleaded. 

We  have  another  home  scene  depicted  by  Lord  Hervey,  which 
at  once  shows  us  an  illustration  of  parental  affection  and  parental 
indifference.  The  Princess  Anne,  after  a  world  of  delay,  had 
reluctantly  left  St.  James's  for  Holland,  where  her  husband  awaited 
her,  and  whither  she  went  for  her  confinement.  The  last  thing  she 
thought  of  was  the  success  of  the  opera  and  the  triumph  of  Handel. 
She  recommended  both  to  the  charge  of  Lord  Hervey,  and  then 
went  on  her  way  to  Harwich,  sobbing.  When  she  had  reached 
Colchester,  she,  upon  receiving  some  letters  from  her  husband  stating 
his  inability  to  be  at  the  Hague  so  soon  as  lie  expected,  returned 
suddenly  to  Kensington. 

In  the  meantime,  in  the  palace  at  the  latter  place  Lord  Hervey 
found  the  queen  and  the  gentle  Princess  Caroline  sitting  together, 
drinking  chocolate,  shedding  tears,  and  sobbing,  all  at  the  absence 
of  the  imperious  Lady  Anne.  The  trio  had  just  succeeded  in  ban- 
ishing melancholy  remembrances  by  launching  into  cheerful  con- 
versation, when  the  gallery  door  was  suddenly  opened,  and  the 
queen  rose,  exclaiming,  »*  The  king  here  already  !"     When,  how- 


CAROLTNE   WILHELMINA    DOROTHEA. 


261 


ever,  she  saw  that,  instead  of  the  king,  it  was  only  the  Prince  of 
Wales,  and  "  detesting  the  exchange  of  the  son  for  the  daughter," 
she  burst  out  anew  into  tears,  and  cried  out,  «  Oh,  6od,  thiJis  tJo 
much."  She  was  only  relieved  by  the  entry  of  the  king,  who 
perceiving,  but  not  speaking  to  his  son,  took  the  queen  by  the  hand 
and  led  her  out  to  walk. 

This  "  cut  direct,"  by  affecting  to  be  unconscious  of  the  presence 
of  the  obnoxious  person,  was  a  habit  with  the  king.  "  Whenever 
the  prince  was  in  a  room  with  him,"  says  Lord  Hervey,  "it  put 
one  in  mind  of  stories  that  one  has  heard  of  ghosts  that  appear  to 
part  of  the  company  and  were  invisible  to  the  rest ;  and  in  this 
manner,  wherever  the  prince  stood,  though  the  king  passed  him 
ever  so  often,  or  ever  so  near,  it  always  seemed  as  if  the  king 
thought  the  prince  filled  a  void  space." 

On  the  following  day,  the  22nd  of  October,  the  Princess  Anne 
suddenly  appeared  before  her  parents.  They  thought  her  at 
Harwich,  or  on  the  seas,  the  wind  being  fair.  Tears  lind  kisses 
were  her  welcome  from  her  mother,  and  smiles  and  an  embrace 
formed  the  greeting  from  her  father.  The  return  was  ill-advised, 
but  the  queen,  with  a  growing  conviction  of  decaying  heahh,  could 
not  be  displeased  at  seeing  again  her  first  child. 

The  health  of  Caroline  was   undoubtedly  at  this  time  much 
impaired,  but  the  king  allowed  her  scant  respite  from  labor  on  that 
account.     Thus  on  the  29th  of  this  month,  although  the  queen  was 
laboring  under  cold,  cough,  and  symptoms  of  fever,  in  addition  to 
having  been  weakened  by  loss  of  blood,  a  process  she  had  recently 
undergone  twice,  the  king  not  only  brought  her  from  Kensington 
to  London,  for  the  birthday,  but  forced  her  to  go  with  him  to  the 
opera  to  hear  the  inimitable  Farinelli.     He  himself  thought  so 
little  of  illness,  or  liked  so  Httlc  to  be  thought  ill,  that  he  would 
rise  from  a  sick  couch  to  proceed  to  hold  a  levee,  which  was  no 
sooner  concluded  than  he  would  immediately  betake  himself  to  bed 
again.     His  affection  for  the  queen  was  not  so  great  but  that  he 
compelled  the  same  sacrifices  from  her,  and  on  the  occasion  of  this 
birthday,  at  the  morning  drawing-room,  she  found  herself  so  near 
swooning,  that  she  was  obliged  to  send  her  chamber-maid  to  the 
king,  begging  him  to  retire,  «  for  that  she  was  unable  to  stand  any 


262 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


longer."  Notwithstanding  which,  we  are  told  by  Lord  Hervey, 
that  "  at  night  he  brought  her  into  a  still  greater  crowd  at  the  ball, 
and  there  kept  her  till  eleven  o'clock." 

Sir  Robert  Walpole  frequently,  and  never  more  urgently  than 
at  this  time,  impressed  upon  her  the  necessity  of  being  careful  of 
her  own  health.  He  addressed  her  as  though  she  had  been  Queen 
Regnant  of  England, — as  she  certainly  was  governing  sovereign, — 
and  he  described  to  her  in  such  pathetic  terms  the  dangers  which 
England  would,  and  Europe  might,  incur,  if  any  fatal  accident 
deprived  her  of  life,  and  the  king  were  to  fjill  under  the  influence 
of  any  other  womim,  that  the  poor  queen,  complaining  and  cough- 
ing, with  head  heavy,  and  aching  eyes  half  closed  with  pain,  cheeks 
flushed,  pulse  quick,  spirits  low,  and  breathing  oppressed,  burst 
into  tears,  alarmed  at  the  picture,  and  with  every  disposition  to  do 
her  utmost  for  the  benefit  of  her  health,  and  the  well-being  of  the 
body  politic. 

It  was  the  opinion  of  Caroline,  that  in  case  of  her  demise  the 
king  would  undoubtedly  marry  again,  and  she  had  often  advised 
him  to  U\ke  such  a  step.  She  affected,  however,  to  believe  that  a 
second  wife  would  not  be  able  to  influence  him  to  act  contrary  to 
the  system  which  he  had  adopted  through  the  influence  of  herself 
and  Walpole. 

It  was  during  the  sojourn  of  the  Princess  Anne  in  England  that 
she  heard  the  details  of  the  withdrawal  of  Lady  Suflulk  from  court. 
Everv'body  appeared  to  be  rejoiced  at  that  lady's  downfall,  but 
most  of  all  the  Princess  Anne.  The  king  thought  that  of  all  the 
children  of  himself  and  Caroline,  Anne  loved  him  best.  This 
dutiful  daughter,  however,  despised  him,  and  treated  him  as  an 
insufferable  bore,  who  always  required  novelty  in  convei-sation  from 
others,  but  never  told  anything  new  of  his  own.  In  allusion  to  the 
withdrawal  of  Lady  Suffolk  from  court,  this  amiable  child  remarked, 
"  I  wish  with  all  my  heart  he  would  take  somebody  else,  tliat 
mamma  might  be  a  little  relieved  from  the  occasion  of  seeing  him 
for  ever  in  her  room  !" 

In  November,  the  Princess  Anne  once  more  proceeded  to  Har- 
wich, put  to  sea,  and  was  so  annoyed  by  the  usual  inconveniences 
that  she  compelled  the  captain  to  land  her  again.     She  declared 


CAROLINE   WILHELillNA    DOROTHEA.  263 

that  she  should  not  be  weU  enough  for  ten  days  to  once  more  go 
a-board.  This  caused  great  confusion.  Her  father,  and  indeed 
the  queen  also,  insisted  on  her  repairing  to  Holland,  by  way  of 
Calais,  as  her  husband  had  thoughtfully  suggested.  She  was  com- 
pelled  to  pass  through  London,  much  to  the  king's  annoyance,  but 
he  declared  that  she  should  not  stop,  but  proceed  at  once  over 
London  Bridge  to  Dover.  He  added  that  she  should  never  a-ain 
come  to  England,  in  the  same  condition  of  health.     His  threat 

oH'JTV'''''''^"'^  """  '^'^  '^P^'^^^"^  ^'^'  '"'''''  *^^^''*°g  co^t  him 
^0,000/.  Her  reluctance  to  proceed  to  her  husband's  native  coun- 
try was  founded,  it  has  been  suggested,  on  her  own  ambitious 
Ideas.  Her  brothers  were  unmarried,  and  she  was  anxious,  it 
IS  thought,  that  her  own  child  should  be  English  bom,  as  it  would 
stand  m  the  line  of  inheritance  to  the  throne.  However  this  may 
be,  the  queen  saw  the  false  step  the  daughter  liad  already  taken 
and  msisted  on  the  wishes  of  her  husband,  the  prince,  being  attend- 
ed to  ;  and  so  the  poor  foiled  Anne  went  home  to  become  a^'mother 
very  much  against  her  will.  ' 

The  Princess  Amelia  observed  to  Mrs.  Cla^^on,  the  queen's 
bedchiunber-woman,  that  her  brother.  Prince  Frederick,  would 
have  been  disi)leased  if  the  accouchement  of  the  princess  had  taken 
place  in  England.  To  this,  Mrs.  Clayton,  as  Lord  Hervey  observes, 
very  justly  remarked,  - 1  cannot  imagine,  madam,  how  it  can  affect 
the  prince  at  all  where  she  lies-in  ;  since  with  regard  to  those  who 
wish  more  of  your  royal  highness's  family  on  the  throne,  it  is  no 
matter  whether  she  be  brought  to  bed  here  or  in  HoUand,  or  of  a 
son  or  a  daughter,  or  whether  she  has  any  child  at  all ;  and  with 
regard  to  those  who  wish  all  your  family  well,  for  your  sake, 
madam,  as  well  as  our  own,  we  shaU  be  very  glad  to  take  any  of 
you  in  your  turn,  but  none  of  you  out  of  it." 

But  the  queen  had  other  business  this  year  wherewith  to  occupy 
her  than  royal  marriages,  or  filial  indL^positions.  In  some  of  these 
matters  her  sincerity  is  sadly  called  in  question.  Here  is  an  in- 
stance. 

In  1734,  the  Bishop  of  Winchester  was  stricken  with  apoplexy, 
and  Lord  Hervey  no  sooner  was  aware  of  that  significant  fact—it 
was  a  mortal  attack— than  he  wrote  to  Hoadly  at  Sahsburj-,  urgin^ 


264 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


him  in  the  strongest  terms  to  make  apphcation  to  be  promoted 
from  Sarum  to  the  almost  vacant  see. 

This  promotion  had  been  promised  him  by  the  king,  queen,  and 
Walpole,  all  of  whom  joined  in  blandly  reproving  the  bishop  for 
being  silent  when  Durham  was  vacant,  whereby  alone  he  lost  that 
golden  appointment.  He  had  served  government  so  well,  and  yet 
had  contrived  to  maintain  most  of  his  usual  popularity  with  the 
public,  that  he  had  been  told  to  look  upon  Winchester  as  his  own, 
whenever  an  opening  occurred. 

Iloadly  was  simple  enough  to  believe  that  the  queen  and  Wal- 
pole were  really  sincere.  Lord  Hervey  judged  most  coiTcctly. 
He  addressed  an  urgent  letter  then  to  the  Bishop  of  Salisbury, 
counselling  him  to  apply  immediately  to  the  king  through  his 
"  two  ears " — the  queen  and  Walpole  ;  and  to  write  as  if  he  were 
sure  of  being  promoted,  according  to  engagement,  while,  at  the 
same  time,  he  was  directed  to  act  as  if  he  were  sure  of  nothing. 

Caroline  called  the  bishop's  letter  indelicate,  hasty,  ill-timed,  and 
such  like,  but  Hoadly  so  well  obeyed  the  instructions  given  to  him 
that  there  was  no  room  for  escape,  and  he  received  the  appoint- 
ment. When  he  went  to  kiss  hands  upon  his  elevation,  the  king 
was  the  only  one  who  behaved  with  common  honesty.  He,  and 
Caroline  too,  disliked  the  man,  whom  the  latter  affected  a  delight 
to  honor,  for  the  reason  that  his  respect  for  royalty  was  not  so 
great  a«  to  blind  him  to  j)opular  rights,  which  he  supported  with 
much  earnestness.  On  his  reception  by  the  king,  the  latter  treated 
him  with  disgraceful  incivility,  exactly  in  accoixlance  with  his  feel- 
ings. Caroline  did  violence  to  hers,  and  gave  him  honeyed  words, 
and  showered  congratulations  upon  him,  and  pelted  him,  as  it  were, 
with  compliments  and  candied  courtesy.  As  for  Sir  Robert  Wal- 
pole, who  hated  Hoadly  as  much  as  his  royal  mistress  and  her 
consort  did  together,  he  to<jk  the  new  Bishop  of  Winchester  a>ide, 
and  warmly  pressing  his  hand,  a^^sured  him,  without  a  blush,  that 
his  translation  from  Sarum  to  Winchester,  was  entirely  owing  to 
the  mediation  of  himself,  Sir  Robert.  It  was  a  daring  assertion, 
and  Sir  Robert  would  have  hardly  ventured  upon  making  it,  had 
he  known  the  share  Lord  Hervey  had  had  in  this  little  ecclei?iasti- 


CAROLINE  WILHELMINA  DOROTHEA.       265 

calintrigue.     Hoadly  was  not  deluded  by  Walpole,  but  he  wa^  the 
perfect  dupe  of  the  queen. 

Lord  Mahon,*  in  speaking  of  Caroline,  says  that  "  her  character 
was  without  a  blemish."     Compared  with  many  around  her,  per- 
haps It  wa.  ;  but  if  the  face  had  not  spots  it  had  «  patches,"  which 
looked  ve,7  much  like  them.     On  this  matter,  the   noble   lord 
appears  to  admit  that  some  doubt  may  exist,  and  he  subsequently 
adds :  «  But  no  doubt  can  exist  as  to  her  discerning  and  most  praise- 
worthy patronage  of  worth  and  learning  in  the  church.     The  most 
able  and  pious  men  were  everj  where  sought  and  preferred,  and 
«»e  episcopal  bench  wa.s  graced  by  such  men  a.s  Hare,  Sherlock,  and   * 
Butler.       Of  course,  Queen  Caroline's  dislike  of  Hoadly  may  be 
set  down  as  founded  upon  that  prelate's  alleged  want  of  orthodoxy. 
It  has  been  noticed  in  another  page,  that,  according  to  Walpole,  the 
queen  had  rather  weakened  than  enlightened  her  faith  by  her  study 
of  divmity,  and  that  her  majesty  herself  -  was  at  best  not  orthodox  " 
Her  countenance  of  the  "  less-believing"  clergy,  is  said,  upon  the 
same  authority,  to  have  been  the  effect  of  the  influence  of  Lady 
feundon,  who  »*  espoused  the  heterodox  clergy." 

Lord  Mahon  ako  says  that  the  queen^'was  distinguished  for 
charity  towards  those  whom  she  accounted  her  enemies.      She 
could  nurse  her  rage,  however,  a  good  while  to  keep  it  warm. 
^^  itness  her  feeling  manifested  against  that  daughter   of  Lord 
Portland  who  married  Mr.   Godolphin.     Her  hatred  of  this  lady 
was  irreconcilable,  nor  was  the  king's  of  a  more  christian  quality. 
Ihat  lady  s  sole  offence,  however,  was  her  acceptance  of  the  office 
*  of  governess  to  their  daughter  in  the  late  reign,  without  their 
consent,  at  the  time  they  had  been  turned  out  of  St.  James's,  and 
the  education  of  their  children,  who  were  kept  there,  taken  from 
them,   t     t  or  this  offence,  the  king  and  queen  were  veiy  unwillinrr 
to  confer  a  peerage  and  pension  on  Godolphin,  in  1735,  when  he 
resigned  his  office  of  groom  of  the  stole  in  the  royal  household. 
1  lie  peerage  and  pension  were  nevertheless,  ultunately  conferred 
at  the  earnest  solicitation  of  Walpole,  and  with  great  ill-humor  on 
the  part  of  the  kincr. 


♦  Now,  Eari  SUnhope. 

Vol.  L— 12 


t  Lord  Hervey. 


266 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


Even  Walpole,  with  all  his  power  and  influence,  was  not  at  this 
time  so  powerful  and  influential  but  that  when  he  was  crossed 
in  parliament,  he  suffered  for  it  at  court.  Thus  when  the  crown 
lost  several  supporters  in  the  house  by  adverse  decisions  on  election 
petitions,  the  king  was  annoyed,  and  the  queen  gave  expression  to 
her  own  anger  on  the  occasion.  It  was  rare  indeed  that  she  ever 
spoke  her  dissatisfaction  of  Sir  Robert,  but  on  the  occasion  in 
question,  she  is  reported  as  having  said  thai  Sir  Robert  Walpole 
either  neglected  these  things,  and  judged  it  enough  to  think  they 
were  trifles,  though  in  government,  and  especially  in  this  country, 
nothing  was  a  trifle,  "  or.  perhaps,"  she  said,  "  there  is  some  mis- 
management I  know  nothing  of,  or  some  circumstances  we  are 
none  of  us  acquainted  with,  but,  whatever  it  is,  to  me  these  things 
seem  very  ill-conducted."  * 

The  queen  really  thought  that  Walpole  was  on  the  point  of 
having  outlived  his  ability,  and  his  powers  to  apply  it  for  the  bene- 
fit of  herself  and  husband.  She  observed  him  melancholy,  and  set 
it  down  that  he  was  mourning  over  his  ovm  difficulties  and  failures. 
When  Caroline,  however,  was  told  that  Sir  Robert  was  not  in 
sorrow  because  of  the  difficulties  of  government,  but  simply  because 
his  mistress.  Miss  Skerrett,  was  dangerously  ill  of  a  pleuritic  fever, 
the  "  unblemished  queen"  was  glad  !  She  rejoiced  that  politics  had 
nothing  to  do  with  his  grief,  and  she  was  extremely  well  pleased 
to  find  that  the  prime  minister  was  as  immoral  as  men  of  greater 
and  less  dignity.  And  then  she  took  to  satirizing  both  the  prime 
minister  and  the  lady  of  his  homago.  She  laughed  at  him  for 
believing  in  the  attachment  of  a  woman  whose  motives  must  be 
mercenary-,  and  who  could  not  {X)ssibly  see  any  attraction  in  such  a 
man.  but  through  the  meshes  of  his  purse.  *•  She  must  be  a  clever 
gentlewoman,"  said  Caroline,  "  to  have  made  him  believe  that  she 
cares  for  him  on  anv  other  score ;  and  to  show  vou  what  fools  we 
all  are  on  some  point  or  other,  she  has  certainly  told  him  some  fine 
story  or  other  of  her  love,  and  her  passion,  and  that  poor  man.  with 
his  burly  body,  swollen  legs,  and  villanous  stomach,  (»  avec  ee 
fffos  corps,  jambes  injlh,  et  ce  vUain  ventre')  believes  her  \ — ah,  what 


*  Lord  Hervej. 


CAROLINE   WILHELMINA    DOROTHEA. 


267 


is  human  nature  ?'    On  this  rhapsody,  Lord  Hervey  makes  a  com- 
ment in  the  spirit  of  Burns'  verse^ — 

"  Would  but  some  god  the  giftie  gi'e  us, 
To  see  ourselves  as  others  see  us," 

and  it  was  excellent  opportunity  for  such  comment.     -'While  she 
was  saying  this,"  remarks  the  noble   lord,  "  she  little  reflected  in 
what  degree  she  herself  possessed  all  the  impediments  and  anti- 
dotes to  love  she  had  been  enumerating,  and  that,  "  Ah,  what  is 
human  nature!"  was  applicable  to  her  own  blindness  as  to  his!" 
She  certainly  illustrated  in  her  own  person  her  assertion  that  in 
government  nothing  was  a  trifle.     Thus,  when  what  was  called  the 
Scotch  Election  Petition  was  before  Parliament,  and  threatening  to 
give  some  trouble  to  the  ministerial  side,  her  anxiety  till  the  question 
was  decided  fovorably  to  the  crown  side,  and  her  afltcted  indiffer- 
ence after  the  victory,  were  both  marked  and  striking.     On  the 
morning  before  the  petition  was  presented,  praying  the  House  of 
Lords  to  take  into  consideration  certain  alleged  illegalities  in  the 
recent  election  of  sixteen  representative  peers  of  Scotland,— a  pe- 
tition   which   the   house    ultimately    dismissed, — the   anxietv   of 
Caroline  was  so  great  ^  to  know  what  was  said,  thought  or  done, 
or  expected  on  this  occasion,  that  she  sent  for  Lord  Hervev  while 
he  was  in  bed  ;  and  because  it  was  contrary  to  the  queenly  etiquette 
to  admit  a  man  to  her  bedside  while  she  was  in  it,  she  kept  him 
talking  upon  one  side  of  the  door,  which  was  just  upon  her  bed, 
while  she  conversed  with  him  on  the  other,  for  two  hours  together, 
and  then  sent  him  to  the  king's  side  to  repeat  to  his  majesty  all  he 
had  related  to  her."  ♦     By  the  king's  fide  is  meant,  not  his  majesty's 
side  of  the  royal  couch,  but  the  side  of  the  palace  wherein  he  had 
his  separate  apartments. 

It  was  soon  after  this  period  (1735),  that  the  king  set  out  for 
Hanover,  much  against  the  inclination  of  his  ministers,  who  dreaded 
lest  he  should  be  drawn  in  to  conclude  some  engagement,  when 
abroad,  adverse  to  the  welfare  of  England.  His  departure,  how- 
ever, was  witnessed  by  Caroline  with  much  resignation.     It  gave 

•  Lord  Hervey. 


268 


LIViS  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


her  infinitely  more  power  and  more  pleasure,  for,  as  Regent,  she 
had  no  superior  to  consult  or  guide,  and  in  her  husband's  absence 
she  had  not  the  task  of  amusing  a  man  who  was  growing  as  little 
amusable,  as  Louis  XIV.  was  when  Madame  de  Maintenon  com- 
plained of  her  terrible  toil  in  that  war.  His  prospective  absence 
of  even  half  a  vear's  duration  did  not  alarm  Caroline,  for  it  released 
her  from  receiving  the  quotidian  sallies  of  a  temper  that,  let  it  be 
charjred  bv  what  hand  it  would,  used  alwavs  to  discharjre  its  hottest 
fire,  on  some  pretence  or  other,  upon  her  I 

The  queen's  enjoyment,  however,  was  somewhat  dashed  by 
information  conveyed  to  her  by  that  very  husband,  and  by  which 
she  learned  that  the  royal  rebrobate,  having  become  smitten  by  the 
attractions  of  a  voungr  married  Grerman  ladv,  named  Walmoden,  had 
had  the  rascalitv  to  induce  her  to  leave  her  husband, — a  course  which 

« 

she  had  readily  adopted  for  the  small  consideration  of  a  thousand 
ducat*!. 

Not  the  smallest  incident  which  marked  the  progress  of  this 
infiimous  connection  was  concealed  by  the  husband  from  his  wife. 
He  wrot«  at  length  minute  details  of  the  person  of  the  new  mis- 
tress, for  whom  he  bespoke  the  love  of  his  ovm  wife  ! 

Lord  Hervey  thinks  that  the  pride  of  the  queen  was  much  more 
hurt  than  her  affections,  on  this  occasion  ;  which  is  not  improbable, 
for  the  reasoning  public,  to  whom  the  affair  soon  became  known, 
at  once  concluded  that  the  rise  of  the  new  mistress  would  be  at- 
tended with  the  downfall  of  the  influence  of  Caroline, 

The  latter,  however,  knew  well  how  to  maintain  her  influence, 
let  who  would  be  the  object  of  the  impure  homage  of  her  exceed- 
infflv  worthless  husband.  To  the  letters  which  he  addressed  to 
her  with  particular  unction,  she  replied  with  an  unction  quite  as 
rich  in  quality  and  profuse  in  degree.  Pure  and  dignified  as  she 
might  seem  in  discoursing  witli  divines,  listening  to  philosophers, 
receiving  the  metrical  tributes  of  poets  or  cavilling  with  scholars, 
she  had  no  objection  to  descend  from  Olvmpus  and  find  relaxation 
in  wallowing  in  Epicurus'  stye.  Nor  did  she  thus  condescend, 
merely  to  suit  a  purpose  and  to  gain  an  end.  Her  letters,  encou- 
raging her  husband  in  his  amours  with  women  at  Hanover,  were 
coarse  enough  to  have  called  up  a  blush  on  the  cheek  of  one  of 


CAROLINE   WILHELMINA    DOROTHEA. 


269 


Congreve's  waiting-maids.  They  liave  the  poor  excuse  tied  to 
them  of  haWng  been  written  for  the  purpose  of  securing  her  own 
power.  The  same  a[)ology  does  not  apply  to  the  corresjwndence 
with  the  dirty  Duchess  of  Orleans.  Caroline  appears  to  have  in- 
dulged in  the  details  of  that  correspondence  for  the  sake  of  the 
mere  pleasure  itself.  And  yet  she  has  been  called  a  woman  with- 
out blemish ! 

The  king's  letters  to  her  are  said  to  have  extended  to  sixty,  and 
never  to  less  than  forty  pages.     They  were  fiUed,  says  Lord  Her- 
vey, "  with  an  houriy  account  of  eveiything  he  saw,  heard,  thought, 
or  did,  and  crammed  with  minute  trifling  circumstances,  not  only 
unworthy  of  a  man  to  write,  but  even  of  a  woman  to  read ;  most 
of  wliich  I  saw,  and  almost  all  of  them  I  heard  refX)rted  by  Sir 
Robert  Waljwle,  to  whose  perusal  few  were  not  committed,  and 
many  passages  were  transmitted  to  him  by  the  king's  own  order ; 
who  used  to  tag  several  paragraphs  with  *  Monirez  ceci  et  consuUez 
ladessus  le  gros  homme:     Among  many  extraordmary  things  and 
expressions  these  letters  contained,  there  wa^  one  in  which  he  de- 
su^  the  queen  to  contrive,  if  she  could,  that  the  Prince  of  Mode- 
na,  who  was  to  come  the  latter  end  of  the  year  to  England,  might 
bring  his  wife  with  him."     She  was  the  younger  daughter  of  the 
Regent  Duke  of  Orleans.     The  reasons  which  the  king  gave  to 
his  wife  for  the  request  which  he  had  made  with  resj^ect  to  this 
lady  was,  that  he  had  understood  the  latter  was  by  no  means  par- 
ticular as  to  what  quarter  or  person  she  received  homage  from, 
and  he  had  the  greatest  inclination  imaginable  to  pay  his  addresses 
to  a  daughter  of  the  late  Regent  of  France.     ""  Un  plaisir,**  he 
8aid. — for  this  German  husband  wrote  even  to  his  German  wife  in 
French. — *•  que  je  suL-  sur,  ma  chere  Caroline,  vous  serez  bien  aise 
de  me  procurer,  quand  je  vous  dis  combien  je  le  souhaite ! "     If 
Wycherly  had  placed  such  an  incident  as  this  in  a  comedy,  he 
would  have  been  censured  as  offending  equally  against  modesty 
and  propriety. 

In  the  summer  of  this  year.  Lord  Hervey  was  absent  for  awhile 
from  attendance  on  his  royal  mistress,  but  we  may  perhaps  learn 
from  one  of  his  letters  addressed  to  her,  while  he  was  resting  in 
the  country  from  his  light  labors,  the  nature  of  his  oflSce,  and  the 


270 


LIVES   OF  THE   QUEENS   OF   ENGLAND. 


i\:» 


way  in  wliich  Caroline  was  served.  The  narrative  is  given  by  the 
writer  as  part  of  an  imaginary  fX)st-obit  diary,  in  which  he  de- 
scribes himself  as  having  died  on  the  day  he  left  her,  and  as  having 
been  repeatedly  buried  in  the  various  dull  country-houses,  by 
whose  proprietors  he  was  hospitably  received.  He  thus  pro- 
ceeds : — 

"  But  whilst  my  body,  madam,  was  thus  disposed  of,  my  spirit 
(as  when  alive,)  was  still  hovering,  though  invisible,  round  your 
majesty,  anxious  for  your  welfare,  and  watching  to  do  you  any 
little  service  that  lay  within  my  power. 

"  On  Monday,  whilst  you  walked,  my  shade  still  turned  on  tlie 
side  of  the  sun  to  guard  you  from  its  beams. 

"  On  Tuesday  morning,  at  breakfast,  I  brushed  away  a  fly  that 
had  escaped  Teed's  observation  "  (Teed  was  one  of  the  queen's  at- 
tendants) "and  was  just  going  to  be  the  taster  of  your  chocolate. 

"  On  Wednesday,  in  the  afternoon,  I  took  off  the  chillness  of 
some  strawberry-water,  your  majesty  was  going  to  drink,  as  you 
came  in  hot  from  walking ;  and  at  night  I  hunted  a  bat  out  of 
your  bed-chamber,  and  shut  a  sash  just  as  you  fell  asleep,  which 
your  majesty  had  a  little  indiscreetly  ordered  Mrs.  Purcel  to  leave 
open. 

"  On  Thursday,  in  the  drawing-room,  I  took  the  forms  and  voices 
of  several  of  my  acquaintances,  made  strange  faces,  put  myself  into 
awkward  ix)stures,  and  talked  a  good  deal  of  nonsense,  whilst  your 
majesty  entertained  me  very  gravely,  recommended  me  very  gra- 
ciously, and  laughed  at  me  internally  very  heartily. 

"  On  Friday,  being  post-day,  I  proposed  to  get  the  best  pen  in 
the  other  world,  for  your  majesty's  use,  and  slip  it  invisibly  into 
your  standish,  just  as  Mr.  Shaw  was  bringing  it  into  your  gallery 
for  you  to  write ;  and  accordingly  I  went  to  Voiture^  and  desired 
him  to  hand  me  his  pen ;  but  when  I  told  him  for  whom  it  was 
designed,  he  only  laughed  at  me  for  a  blockhead,  and  asked  me  if 
I  had  been  at  court  for  four  years  to  so  little  purpose  as  not  to 
know  that  your  majesty  had  a  much  better  of  your  own. 

'•  On  Saturday,  I  went  on  the  shaft  of  your  majesty's  chaise  to 
Richmond  ;  as  you  walked  there  I  went  before  you,  and  with  an 
invisible  wand  I  brushed  the  dew  and  the  worms  out  of  your  path 


CAROLINE  WILHELMINA   DOROTHEA. 


271 


all  the  way,  and  several  times  uncrumpled  your  majesty's  stock- 
ing. 

"  Sunday,— This  very  day,  at  chapel,  I  did  your  majesty  some 
service,  by  tearing  six  leaves  out  of  the  parson's  sermon,  and  short- 
ening his  discourse  six  minutes." 

While  these  imaginary  services  were  being  rendered  by  the 
visionary  Lord  Hervey  to  the  queen,  realities  more  serious  and 
not  less  amusing  were  claiming  the  attention  of  Caroline  and  her 
consort. 

In  return  for  the  infonnation  communicated  by  the  king  to  the 
queen  on  the  subject  of  JMadame  Wahnoden  and  her  charms,  Ca- 
roline had  to  inform  her  husband  of  the  marriage  we  have  spoken 
of,  between  Lady  Suffolk  and  Mr.  George  Berkeley.  The  royal 
ex-lover  noticed  the  communication  in  his  reply,  in  a  coarse  way, 
and  expressed  his  entire  satisfaction  at  being  rid  of  the  lady,  and 
at  the  lady's  disposal  of  herself. 

When  Caroline  informed  her  vice-chamberlain,  Lord  Hervey, 
of  the  report  of  this  marriage,  his  alleged  disbelief  of  the  report 
made  her  peevish  with  him,  and  induced  her  to  call  him  an  "  ob- 
stinate devil,"  who  would  not  believe  merely  improbable  facts  to 
be  truths.  Caroline  then  railed  at  her  in  good  set  terms  as  a  sayer 
and  doer  of  silly  things,  entirely  unworthy  of  the  reputation  she 
had  with  some  people  of  being  the  sayer  and  doer  of  wise  ones. 

It  was  on  this  occa.<ion  that  Caroline  herself  described  to  Lord 
Hervey  the  farewell  interview  she  had  had  with  Lady  Suffolk. 
The  ex-mistress  took  a  sentimental  view  of  her  position,  and  la- 
mented to  the  wife  that  she,  the  mistress,  was  no  longer  so  kindly 
treated  as  formerly  by  the  husband.  "  I  told  her,"  said  the  queen, 
^  in  reply,  that  she  and  I  were  not  of  an  age  to  think  of  these  sorts 
of  things  in  such  a  romantic  way,  and  said,  *  My  good  Lady  Suf- 
folk, you  are  the  best  servant  in  the  world,  and  as  I  should  be 
most  extremely  sorry  to  lose  you,  pray  take  a  week  to  consider  of 
tliis  business,  and  give  me  your  word  not  to  read  any  romances  in 
tliat  time,  and  then  I  dare  say  you  will  lay  aside  all  thoughts  of 
doing  what,  believe  me,  you  will  repent,  and  what  I  am  very  sure 
I  shall  be  very  sorry  for.' "  ♦     It  was  at  one  of  these  conversations 

*  liOrd  Hervey, 


272 


LIVES   OF  THE   QUEEN'S   OF   ENGLAND. 


with  Lord  Hervey  that  the  queen  told  him  that  Lady  Suffolk  "  had 
had  2,000/.  a  year  constantly  from  the  king  wliilst  he  was  prince, 
and  3,200/.  ever  since  he  was  king ;  besides  several  little  dabs  of 
money  both  before  and  since  he  came  to  the  crown." 

A  letter  of  Lady  Pomfret's  will  serve  to  show  us  not  only  a  pic- 
ture of  the  queen  at  this  time,  but  an  illustration  of  feeling  in  a 
fine  lady. 

Lady  Pomfret,  writing  to  Lady  Sundon,  in  1735,  says:— "All 
I  can  say  of  Kensington  is,  that  it  is  just  the  same  it  was,  only 
pared  as   close   as  the    Bishop  does  the  Sacrament.     My  Lord 
Pomfret  and  I  were  the  greatest  strangers  there  ;  no  secretaiy  of 
state,  no  chamberlain  or  vice-chamberlain,  but  Lord  Robert,  and 
he  just  in  the  same  coat,  the  same  spot  of  ground,  and  the  same 
woifls  in  his  mouth,  that  he  had  when  I  left  there.     Mrs.  Meadows 
in  the  window  at  work ;  but,  thougli  half  an  hour  after  two,  the 
queen  was  not  quite  dressed,  so  that  I  had  the  honor  of  seeing  her 
before  she  came  out  of  her  little  blue  room,  where  I  was  graciously 
received,  and  acquainted  her  majesty,  to  her  great  sorrow,  how  ill 
you  had  been,  and  then,  to  alleviate  that  sorrow,  I  informed  her 
how  much  Sundon  was  altered  for  the  better,  and  that  it  looked 
like  a  castle.     From  thence  we  proceeded  to  a  verj-  short  drawing- 
room,  where  the  queen  joked  much  with  my  Lord  Pomfret  about 
Barbadoes.     The  two  ladies  of  the  bedchamber  and  the  governess 
are  yet  on  so  bad  a  foot,  that  upon  the  latter  coming  into  the  room 
to  dine  with  Lady  Bristol,  the  others  went  away,  though  just  going 
to  sit  down,  and  strangei-s  in  the  place." 

The  writer  of  this  letter  soon  after  lost  a  son,  the  Honorable 
Thomas  Fermor.  It  was  a  severely  felt  loss  ;  so  severe,  that  some 
weeks  elapsed  before  the  disconsolate  mother  was  able,  as  she 
says,  "to  enjoy  the  kind  and  obliging  concern"  expressed  by  the 
queen's  bedchamber-woman  in  her  late  misfortune.  Christianity 
itself,  as  this  charming  mother  averred,  would  have  authorized  her 
irf  lamenting  such  a  calamity  during  the  remainder  of  her  life,  but 
then.  Oh  joy !  her  maternal  lamentation  was  put  an  end  to  and 
Kachel  was  comforted,  and  all  because — "  It  was  impossible  for 
any  behavior  to  be  more  gracious  than  that  of  the  queen  on  this 


CAROLINE  WILHELMINA  DOROTHEA. 


273 


' 


occasion,  who  made  it  quite  fashionable  to  be  concerned"  at  the 
death  of  Lady  Pomfret's  son. 

But  there  were  more  bustling  scenes  at  Kensington  than  such 
as  those  described  by  this  fashionably  sorrowing  lady  and  the  sym- 
pathizing sovereign. 

On  Sunday,  the  26th  of  October,  the  queen  and  her  court  had 
just  left  the  little  chapel  in  the  palace  of  Kensington,  when  intima- 
tion was  given  to  her  majesty  that  the  king,  who  had  left  Hanover 
on  the  previous  Wednesday,  was  approaching  the  gate.     Carohne, 
at  the  head  of  her  ladies  and  the  gentlemen  of  her  suite,  hastened 
down  to  receive  him ;  and  as  he  alighted  from  his  ponderous  coach, 
she  took  his  hand  and  kissed  it.     Tliis  ceremony  performed  by  the 
Regent,  a  very  unceremonious,  hearty,  and  honest  kiss  was  im- 
pressed on  his  lips  by  the  wife.    The  king  endured  the  latter  with- 
out emotion,  and  then,  taking  the  queen-regent  by  the  fingers,  he 
led  her  up-stairs  in  a  very  stately  and  formal  manner.    In  the  gal- 
lery there  was  a  grand  presentation,  at  which  his  majesty  exhibited 
much  ill-humor,  and  convei-sed  with  everybody  but  the  queen. 

His  ill-humor  arose  from  various  sources.  He  had  heated  him- 
self by  rapid  and  continual  travelling,  whereby  he  had  brought  on 
an  attack  of  a  complaint  to  which  he  was  subject,  which  made  him 
very  ill  at  ease,  and  which  is  irritating  enough  to  break  down  the 
patience  of  the  most  patient  of  people. 

On  ordinary  occasions  of  his  return  from  Hanover,  his  most  sa- 
cred majesty  was  generally  of  as  sour  disposition  as  a  man  so  little 
heroic  could  well  be.     He  loved  the  electorate  better  than  he  did 
his  kingdom,  and  would  not  allow  that  there  was  anything  in  the 
latter  which  could  not  be  found  in  ILmover  of  a  superior  quality. 
Tliere  was  no  exception  to  this;  men,  women,  artists, philosophers, 
actors,  citizens,  the  virtues,  the  sciences,  and  the  wits,  the  country, 
its  natural  beauties  and  productions,  the  courage  of  the  men  and 
the  attractions  of  the  women — all  of  these  in  England  seemed  to 
him  worthless.     In  Hanover  they  assumed  the  guise  of  perfection. 
This  time,  he  returned  to  his  "old"  wife  laden  with  a  fresh  sor- 
row, the  memory  of  a  new  favorite.     He  had  left  his  heart  with 
the  insinuating  Walmoden,  and  he  brought  to  his  superb  Caroline 
nothing  but  a  tribute  of  ill-humor  and  spite.     He  hated  more  than 

12* 


274 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


ever  the  change  from  an  electorate  where  he  was  so  delightfullj 
despotic,  to  a  country  where  he  was  only  chief  magistrate,  and 
where  the  people,  through  their  representatives,  kept  a  very  sharp 
watch  upon  him  in  the  execution  of  his  duties.     He  was  accord- 
ingly as  coarse  and  evilly-disposed  towards  the  circle  of  his  court 
as  he  was  to  her  who  was  the  centre  of  it.     He,  too,  was  like  one 
of  those  pantomime  potentates  who  are  for  ever  in  King  Cumhyses* 
vein,  and  who  sweep  through  the  scene  in  a  whirlwmd  of  farcically 
furious  words  and  of  violent  acts,  or  of  threats  almost  as  bad  as  if 
the  menaces  had  been  actually  realized.     It  was  observed  that  his 
behavior  to  Caroline  had  never  been  so  little  tinged  with  outward 
respect  as  now.     She  bore  his  humor  with  admirable  patience ; 
and  her  quiet  endurance  only  the  more  provoked  the  petulance  of 
the  little  and  worthless  kinjr. 

He  was  not  only  ill-tempered  with  the  mistress  of  the  palace, 
but  was  made,  or  chose  to  think  himself,  especially  angry  at  tri- 
fling improvements  which  Caroline  had  cairied  into  effect  in  the 
suburban  palace  during  the  temporary  absence  of  its  master.  The 
improvements  consisted  chiefly  in  removing  some  worthless  pic- 
tures and  indifferent  statues,  and  placing  masterpieces  in  their 
stead.  The  king  would  have  all  restored  to  the  condition  all- was 
in  when  he  had  hist  left  the  palace ;  and  he  treated  Lord  Hervey 
as  a  fool  for  venturing  to  defend  the  queen's  taste  and  the  changes 
which  had  followed  the  exercise  of  it.  *'I  suppose,"  said  the  ditr- 
nified  king  to  the  courteous  vice-chamberlain,  '*I  su])iK)se  you 
assisted  the  (jueen  with  your  fine  advice  when  she  was  pulling  my 
house  to  pieces,  and  spoiling  all  my  furniture.  Thank  God !  at 
least  she  has  left  the  walls  standincr!" 

Lord  Hervey  asked  if  he  would  not  allow  the  two  Vandykes 
which  the  queen  had  substituted  for  '*  two  sign-posts,"  to  remain. 
George  pettishly  answered,  that  he  didn't  care  whether  they  were 
changed  or  no ;  "  but,"  he  added,  *•  but,  for  the  picture  with  the 
duty  frame  over  the  door,  and  the  three  nasty  little  children,  I  will 
have  them  taken  away,  and  the  old  ones  restored.  I  will  have  it 
done,  too,  to-morrow  morning,  before  I  go  to  London,  or  else  I 
know  it  will  not  be  done  at  all." 

Lord  Hervey  next  inquired  if  his  majesty  would  also  have  **  his 


CAROLINE  WILUELMINA  DOROTHEA. 


275 


gigantic  fat  Venus  restored,  too?"  The  king  replied  that  he 
would,  for  he  liked  his  fat  Venus  better  than  anything  that  had 
been  put  in  its  place.  Upon  tliis.  Lord  Hervey  says  he  fell  to 
thmking,  that  "if  his  majesty  had  liked  his  fat  Ve7ius  as  well  as  he 
used  to  do,  there  would  have  been  none  of  these  disputations." 

By  a  night's  calm  repose,  the  ill  humor  of  the  sovereign  was  not 
dispersed.  On  the  foUowing  morning,  we  meet  with  the  insuffera- 
ble little  man  in  the  gallery,  where  the  queen  and  her  daughters 
were  taking  cliocolate ;  her  son,  the  Duke  of  Cumberland,  standing 
by.  He  only  stayed  five  minutes,  but  in  that  short  time  the  hus- 
band and  father  contrived  to  wound  the  feelings  of  his  wife  and 
children.  «  He  snubbed  the  queen,  who  was  drinking  chocolate, 
for  being  always  stuffing;  the  Princess  Amelia  for  not  hearin- 
him ;  the  Princess  Caroline  for  being  grown  fat ;  the  Duke  of 
Cumberland  for  standing  awkwardly;  and  then  he  carried  the 
queen  out  to  walk,  to  be  re-snubbed  in  the  garden."* 

Sir  Robert  Waljiole  told  his  friend  Hervey  that  he  liad  done 
his  utmost  to  prepare  the  queen  for  this  change  in  the  king's  feel- 
ings and  actions  towards  her.     He  reminded  her  that  her  personal 
attractions  were  not  what  they  had  been,  and  he  counselled  her  to 
depend  more  upon  her  intellectual  superiority  than  ever.     The 
virtuous  man  advised  her  to  secure  the  good  temper  of  the  king  by 
throwing  certain  ladies  in  his  way  of  an  evening.     Sir  Robert 
mentioned,  among  others.  Lady  Tankerville,  "a  very  safe  fool,  who 
would  give  the  king  some  amusement  without  giving  her  majesty 
any  trouble."     Lady  Deloraine,  the  Deii'a  from  whose  rage  Pope 
bade  his  readei*s  dread  slander  and  poison,  had  already  attracted 
the  royal  notice,  and  the  king  liked  to  phiy  cards  with  her  in  his 
daughters'  apartments.     This  lady,  who  had  the  loosest  tongue  of 
the  least  modest  women  about  the  court,  was  characterized  by  Wal- 
pole  as  likely  to  exercise  a  dangerous  influence  over  the  king.    If 
Caroline  would  retain  her  power,  he  insinuated,  she  must  'select 
her   husband's   favorites,   through   whom   she   might   still   reign 
supreme. 

Caroline  is  said  to  have  taken  this  advice  in  good  part.     There 

*  I^rd  Hervey. 


276 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS   OF  ENGL.V.ND. 


i-i 


would  be  diflBcultj  in  believing  that  it  ever  was  given,  did  we  not 
know  that  the  queen  herself  could  joke,  not  very  delicately,  in  full 
court,  on  her  position  as  a  woman  not  first  in  her  husband's  reorard. 
Sir  Robert  would  comment  on  these  jokes  in  the  same  locality, 
and  with  increase  of  coarseness.  The  queen,  however,  though  she 
affected  to  laugh,  was  both  hurt  and  displeased — hurt  by  the  joke, 
and  displeased  with  the  joker,  of  whom  Swift  has  said,  that — 

By  favor  and  fortune  fastidiously  blest, 

He  was  loud  m  his  laugh  and  was  coarse  in  his  jest. 

In  spite  of  the  king's  increased  ill-temper  towards  the  queen, 
and  in  spite  of  what  Sir  Robert  Walpole  thought  and  said  upon 
that  delicate  subject.  Lord  Hervey  maintains  that  at  this  very  time 
the  king's  heart,  as  affected  towards  the  queen,  was  not  less  warm 
than  his  temper.  The  facts  which  are  detailed  by  the  gentle 
Oificial  immediately  after  he  has  made  this  assertion,  go  strongly 
to  disprove  the  latter.  The  detail  involves  a  rather  long  extract, 
but  its  interest,  and  the  elaborate  minuteness  with  which  this 
picture  of  a  royal  interior  is  painted,  will  doubtless  be  considered 
ample  excuse,  or  warrant  rather,  for  reproducing  the  passages. 
Lord  Ilervey  was  eye  and  ear-witness  of  what  he  here  so  well 
describes : — 

*•  About  nine  o'clock  ever)-  night,  the  king  used  to  return  to  the 
queen's  apartment  from  that  of  his  daughters,  where,  from  the 
time  of  Lady  Suffolk's  disgrace,  he  used  to  pass  those  evening's  he 
did  not  go  to  the  opera  or  play  at  quadrille,  constraining  them, 
tiring  himselt;  and  talking  a  little  indecently  to  Lady  Deloraine, 
who  was  always  of  the  party. 

''At  his  return  to  the  queen's  side,  the  queen  used  often  to  send 
for  Lord  Hervey  to  entertain  them  till  they  retired,  which  was 
generally  at  eleven.  One  evening,  among  the  rest,  as  soon  as 
Lord  Hervey  came  into  the  room,  the  queen,  who  was  knotting, 
while  the  king  walked  backward  and  forw  ards,  began  jocosely  to 
attack  Lord  Hervey  upon  an  answer  just  published  to  a  book  oi 
his  friend  Bishop  Hoadly's  on  the  sacrament,  in  which  the  bishop 
was  very  ill  treated ;  but  before  she  had  uttered  half  wliat  she  had 
a  mind  to  s;iy,  the  king  interrupted  her.  and  told  her  she  always 


J 


.CAROLINE  WILHELMIXA    DOROTHEA.  277 

loved  talking  of  such  nonsense,  and  things  she  knew  nothing  of  • 
adding,  that  if  it  were  not  for  such  foolish  people  lovino.  to  talk  of 
these  tilings  when  they  were  written,  the  fook  who  wrote  upon  them 
would  never  thmk  of  publisliing  their  nonsense,  and  disturbm^  the 
government  with  impertinent  disputes,  that  nobody  of  any  sen^o 
ever  troubled  himself  about.     The  queen  bowed,  and  said  '  Sir  I 
only  did  it  to  let  Loi-d  Hervey  know  that  his  friend's  book  had  not 
met  with  that  general  approbation  he  had  pretended.'     '  A  pretty 
eUow  for  a  friend!'    said  the   king,  turning  to  Lord  Hervej-. 
Pray,  what  is  it  that  charms  you  in  him?     His  pretty  limpin.. 
gwt.'      And  then  he  acted  the  bishop's   huneness,  and  entered 
upon  some  unplea-^ant  defects  which  it  is  not  necessary  to  repeat. 
Ihe  stomachs  of  the  listeners  must  have  been  strong,  if  they  ex- 
penenced  no  quahn  at  the  too  gnii)hic  and  nasty  detaU.    '  Or  is  it ' 
continued  the  king,  'his  great  honesty  that  charms  your  lordship? 
JIis  asking  a  thing  of  me  for  one  man,  and  when  he  came  to  have 
It  in  his  own  power  to  bestow,  refusing  the  queen  to  give  it  to  the 
ven-  man  for  whom  he  had  asked  it  ?     Or  do  you  admire  his 
conscience  that  makes  him  now  put  out  a  book  that,  tiU  he  was 
Bishop  of  W  inchester,  for  fear  his  conscience  might  hurt  hU  prefer- 
ment, he  kept  locked  up  in  his  chest  ?     Is  his  conscience  so  much 
improved  beyond  what  it  was  when  he  was  Bishop  of  Bangor,  or 
Hereford,  or  Salisbury-for  this  book  I  fear,  was  written  ^  lon<. 
ago-^r  ,s  it  that  he  would  not  risk  losing  a  shilling  a  year  more" 
whiUt  there  was  anytliing  better  to  be  got  than  what  he  had? 
•     •     I  cannot  help  saying,  if  the  bishop  of  Winchester 
>s  your  fnend,  that   you  Imve  a  great  puppy,  and  a  very  duU 
l-rilow,  and  a  very  great  rascal,  for  your  friend.     It  i.  a  very 
pretty  thing  for  such  scoundrels,  when  they  are  raised  by  favor 
above  their  deserts,  to  be  talking  and  writing  their  stuff,  to  give 
trouble  to  the  govemment  that  has  shown  them  that  favor ;  and 
very  modest  lor  a  canting,  hypocritical  knave  to  be  crving  that 
tJ.e  Lmgdom  of  ChrUt  i,  not  ofthi,  vrorld,  at  the  same  'time  that 
he,  as  Christ's  ambassador,  receives  C,(XX»/.   or  7,000/.   a  year 
But  he  ,i  just  the  same  thing  in  the  Church  that  he  is  in  the 
government^  and  as  ready  to  receive  the  best  pay  for  preaching 
the  Bible,  though  he  does  not  believe  a  word  of  it,  as  he  is  t^ 


278 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


take  favor  from  the  Crown,  though,  by  his  republican  spirit  and 
doctrine,  he  would  be  glad  to  abolish  its  power.'  " 

There  is  something  melancholily  suggestive  in  thus  hearing  the 
temporal  head  of  a  Church  accusing  of  rank  infidelity  a  man 
whom  he  had  raised  to  be  an  overseer  and  bishop  of  souls  in  that 
very  Church.  If  George  knew  that  Hoadly  did  not  believe  in 
Scripture,  he  was  infinitely  woi-se  than  the  prelate,  for  the  simple 
fact  of  his  having  made  him  a  prelate,  or  having  translated  him 
from  one  diocese  to  another  of  more  importance  and  more  value. 
But,  to  resume — 

"  During  the  whole  time  the  king  was  speaking,  the  queen,  by 
smiling  and  nodding  in  proper  places,  endeavored  all  she  could, 
but  in  vain,  to  make  her  court,  by  seeming  to  approve  everything 
he  said."  Lord  Hervey  then  attempted  to  give  a  pleasant  turn  to 
the  conversation  by  remarking  on  prelates  who  were  more  docile 
towards  government  than  Hoadly,  and  who,  for  being  dull  branches 
of  episcopacy,  and  ignorant  piecers  of  orthodoxy,  were  none  the 
less  good  and  quiet  subjects.  From  the  persons  of  the  Church, 
the  vice-chamberlain  got  to  the  flibric,  and  then  descanted  to  the 
queen  upon  the  newly-restored  bronze  gates  in  Henry  VJL's 
Chapel.  This  excited  the  king's  ire  anew.  '•  My  lord,"  said  he, 
''  you  are  always  putting  some  of  these  fine  things  m  the  queen's 
head,  and  then  I  am  to  be  plagued  with  a  thousand  plans  and 
Avorkmen."  He  grew  sarcastic,  too,  on  the  queen's  grotto  in 
Richmond  gardens,  which  wa<  known  as  MerlliCs  Cave,  from  a 
statue  of  the  great  enchanter  tlierein  ;  and  in  which  there  was  a 
collection  of  books,  over  which  Stephen  Duck,  thresher,  poet,  and 
parson,  had  been  constituted  librarian.  The  Craftsman  paper 
had  attacked  this  plaything  of  the  queen,  and  her  husband  was 
delighted  at  the  annoyance  caused  to  her  by  such  an  attack. 

The  poor  queen  probably  thought  she  had  succeeded  in  cleverly 
changing  the  topic  of  conversation  by  referring  to  and  expressing 
disapproval  of  the  expensive  habit  of  giving  vails  to  the  servants 
of  the  house  at  which  a  person  has  been  visiting.  She  remarked 
that  she  had  found  it  no  inconsiderable  expense  during  the  past 
summer  to  visit  her  friends  even  in  town.  '•  That  is  your  own 
fault,"   growled    the    king;  *^  for   my    father,    when    he    went  to 


CAROLINE   WILHELMINA    DOROTHEA. 


279 


* 


people's  houses  in  town,  never  was  fool  enough  to  give  away  his 
money."  The  queen  pleaded  that  she  only  gave  what  her  cham- 
berlain. Lord  Grantham,  informed  her  was  usual, — whereupon 
poor  Lord  Grantham  came  in  for  his  full  share  of  censure.  The 
queen,  said  her  consort,  '*  was  always  asking  some  fool  or  another 
what  she  was  to  do,  and  that  none  but  a  fool  would  ask  another 
fool's  advice." 

The  vice-chamberlain  gently  hmted   that  liberality  would  be 
expected  from  a  queen  on  such  occasions  as  her  visits  at  the  houses 
of  her  subjects.     "  Then  let  her  stay  at  home,  as  I  do,"  said  the 
king.     "  You  do  not  see  me  running  into  every  puppy's  house  to 
see  his  new  chairs  and  stools."     And  then,  tuniing  to  the  queen, 
he  added :  *'  Nor  is  it  for  you  to  be  running  your  nose  everywhere, 
and  to  be  trotting  about  the  town,  to  every  fellow  that  will  give 
you  some  bread  and  butter,  like  an  old  girl  that  loves  to  go  abroad, 
no  matter  where,  or  whether  it  be  proper  or  no."     The  queen 
colored,  and  knotted  a  good  deal  faster  during  this  speech  than 
before ;  whilst  the  tears  came  into  Iver  eyes,  but  she  said  not  one 
word.      Such  is  the  description   of  Lord  Hervey,  and  it  shows 
Caroline  in  a  favorable  light.     The  vice-chamberlain  struck  in 
for  her,  by  observing  that  her  majesty  could  not  see  private  col- 
lections  of  pictures  without  going   to   the  owners'    houses,  and 
honoring  them  by  her  presence.    ''  Supix)sing,"  said  the  king,  "  she 
had  a  curiosity  to  see  a  tavern,  would  it  be  fit  for  her  to  satisfy  it  ? 
and  yet  the  innkeei)er  would  be  very  glad  to  see  her."     The  vice- 
chamberlain   did   not  fail  to  see  that   this  was  a  most  illo"-ical 
remark,  and  lie  very  well  observed  in  reply,  that,  "  If  the  inn- 
keepers were   used  to  be  well  received  by  her  majesty  in   her 
palace,  he  should  think   that  the  queen's  seeing  them   at   their 
own  houses  would  give  no  additional  scandal."     As  George  found 
himself  foiled  by   this  observation,  he   felt  only   the    more    dis- 
pleasure, and  he  gave  vent  to  the  last,  by  bursting  forth  into  a 
torrent  of  German,  which  sounded  like  abuse,  and  during  the  out- 
pouring of  which  "  the  queen  made   not  one  word  of  reply,  but 
knotted  on  till  she  tangled  her  thread,  then  snuffed  the  candles 
that  stood  on  the  table  before  her,  and  snuffed  one  of  them  out. 


280 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


< 


Upon  which  the  king,  in  English,  began  a  new  dissertation  upon 
her  majesty,  and  took  her  awkwardness  for  his  text."* 

Unmoved  as  Caroline  appeared  at  this  degrading  scene,  she  felt 
,t  acutely,— but  she  did  not  wish  that  others  should  be  aware  of 
her  feelings  under  such  a  visitation.  Lord  Hervey  was  aware  of 
this ;  and  when,  on  the  foUowing  morning,  she  remarked  that  he 
had  looked  at  her  the  evening  before,  as  if  he  thought  she  had  been 
going  to  crj',  the  courtier  protested  that  he  had  neither  done  the 
one  nor  thought  the  other,  but  had  expressly  directed  his  eyes  on 
another  object,  lest  if  they  met  hers,  tl^e  .comicality  of  the  scene 
should  have  set  both  of  them  lau'^hin'^. 

And  such  scenes  were  of  constant  occurrence.     The  king  ex- 
tracted something  unpleasant  from  his  very  pleasures,  just  as'^acids 
may  be  produced  from  sugar.     Sometimes,  he  feU  into  a  difficulty 
during  the  process.      Thus,  on  one   occasion,— the   party   were 
again  assembled  for  their  usual  delightful  evening,  the  queen  had 
mentioned  the  name  of  a  person  whose  father,  she  said,  was  known 
to  the  king.     It  was  at  the  time  when  his  majesty  was  most  bitterly 
mcensed  against  his  eldest  son.     Caroline  was  on  better  terms  with 
Frederick ;  but,  as  she  remarked,  they  each  knew  the  other  too 
well  to  love  or  trust  one  another.     Well,  the  king  hearing  father 
and  son  alluded  to,  observed,  that  -  one  very  often  sees  fathers  and 
sons  very  little  alike ;— a  wise  father  has  very  often  a  fool  for  his 
son.     One  sees  a  father  a  verj^  brave  man,  and  his  son  a  scoundrel ; 
a  father  very  honest,  and  his  son  a  great  knave ;  a  father  a  man  of 
truth,  and  his  son  a  great  liar;  in  short,  a  father  that  has  all  sorts 
of  good  qualities,  and  a  son  that  is  good  for  nothing."  *     The  queen 
and  all  present  betrayed,  by  their  countenances,  that  they  compre- 
bended  the  historical  parallel ;  whereupon  the  king  attempted  as 
he  thought,  to  make  it  less  flagrantly  applicable,  by  runnin-  the 
comparison  in  another  sense.     "Sometimes,"  he  said,  "the "case 
was  just  the  reverse,  and  that  very  disagreeable  fathers  had  very 
^reeable  men  for  their  sons."     In  this  case,  the  king,  as  Lord 
ireney  suggests,  was  thinking  of  his  own  father,  as  in  the  former 
one  he  had  been  thinking  of  his  son. 

*  Lord  Hervey. 


CAROLINE   WILHELMINA    DOROTHEA. 


281 


But  how  he  drew  what  was  sour  from  the  sweetest  of  his  plea- 
sures, is  shown  from  his  remarks  after  having  been  to  the  theatre 
to  see  Shakespeare's  Henry  the  Fourth.     He  was  tolerably  well 
pleased  with  all  the  actors,  save  the  "  Prince  of  Wales."     He  liad 
never  seen,  he  said,  so  awkward  a  feUow,  and  so  mean  a  lo<.king 
scoundrel,  in  his  life.     Everybody,  says  Lord  Hervey,  who  hated 
the  actual  Prince  of  Wales  thought  of  him  as  the  king  here  ex- 
pressed himself  of  the  player ;  «  but  all  very  properly  pretended  to 
understand  his  majesty  literally,  joined  in  the  censure,  and  abused 
the  theatrical  Prince  of  AVales  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  together." 
It  may  be  here  noticed,  that  Shakespeare  owed  some  of  his  repu- 
tation, at  this  tiifce,  to  the  dissensions  which  existed  between  the 
king  and  his  son.     Had  it,  at  least,  not  been  for  this  circumstance, 
it  is  not  likely  that  the  play  of  Henry  the  Fourth  would  have  been 
so  often  represented  as  it  was,fM;  the  three  theatres,— Lincoln's- 
Inn-Fields,   Covent  Garden,   and  Drury  Lane.     Every  auditor 
knew  how  to  make  special  application  of  the  complainings  and 
sorrowings  of  a  royal  sire  over  a  somewhat  profligate  son  ;  or  of 
the  unfilial  speeches  and  hypocritical  tissurance  of  a  princely  heir, 
flung  at  his  sovereign  and  impatient  sire.     The  house  in  Lincoln's- 
Inn-Fields  had  the  reputation  of  being  the  Tory  house ;  and  the 
Prince  of  Wales  there,  was  probably  represented  as  a  proper  gen- 
tleman; not  out  of  love  io  him,  but  rather  out  of  contempt  to'the 
father.     It  was  not  a  house  which  received  the  favor  of  either 
Caroline  or  her  consort.     Tlie  new  pieces  there  ran  too  strongly 
against  the  despotic  rule  of  kings, — the  only  sort  of  rule  for  which 
George  at  all  cared,  and  the  lack  of  which  made  him  constantly 
abusive  of  England,  her  institutions,  Parliament,  and  public  men. 
It  is  difficult  to  say  what  the  real  opinion  of  Caroline  was  upon 
this  matter,  for  at  divers  times  we  find  her  uttering  opposite  senti- 
ments.    She  could  be  as  abusive  against  free  institutions  and  civil 
and  religious  rights,  as  ever  her  husband  was-     She  has  been  heard 
to  declare,  that  sovereignty  was  worth  little  where  it  was  merely 
nominal,  and  that  to  be  king  or  queen  in  a  country  where  people 
governed  through  their  Parliament,  was  to  wear  a  crown,  and  to 
exercise  none  of  the  prerogatives  which  are  ordinarily  attached  to 
it.     At  other  times  she  would  declare,  that  the  real  glory  of  Eng- 


282 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


and  was  the  result  of  her  free  institutions;  the  people  were  indus- 
trious  and  enterprising  because  they  were  free,  and  knew  that  their 
property  wa^  secure   from  any  attack  on  the  part  of  prince  or 
government.     They  consequently  regarded  their  soveieign  with 
more  affection  than  a  despotic  monarch  could  be  regarded  by  a 
slavish  people ;  and  she  added,  that  she  would  not  have  cared  to 
share  a  throne  m  England,  if  the  people  by  whom  it  was  surrounded 
had  been  slaves  without  a  will  of  their  own,  or  a  heart  that  throbbed 
at  the  name  of  hberty.     The  king  never  had  but  one  opinion  on 
the  subject,  and  therefore  the  theatre  at  Lincoln Vlnn-Fields  was 
for  ever  resounding  with  claptra,>s  against  despotism,  and  that  in 
presence  9  an  audience  of  whom  Frederick,  Prinae  of  AVales,  was 
chief,  and  Bolingbroke  led  the  applause. 

But  even  Druiy  Lane  could  be  as  democratic  as  Lincoln's-Inn. 
Thus,  m  the  very  year  of  which  vie  are  treating,  Lillo  brought  out 
his  Christian  Hero"  at  Lincoln's-Lm,  and  the  audience  had  as 
lit  le  ditficulty  to  apply  the  parts  to  living  potentates  as  they  had 
reluctance  to  applaud  to  the  echo  passages  like  the  following, 
against  despotic  rulers  : —  ° 

Despotic  power,  that  root  of  bitterness. 

That  tree  of  death  that  spreads  its  baleful  arms 

Almost  from  pole  to  pole,  beneath  whose  cursed  shade 

No  good  thinjr  thrives,  and  every  ill  finds  shelter,— 

Had  found  no  time  ior  its  detested  growth 

But  for  the  follies  and  the  crimes  of  men. 

But  ''  Drury"  did  not  often  offend  in  this  guise,  and  even  Geor-e 
and  Caroline  might  have  gone  to  see  "Junius  Brutus"  and  have 
been  amused.  The  queen,  who  well  knew  the  corruption  of  the 
senate,  might  have  smiled  as  Mills,  in  Brutus,  with  gravity  de- 
clared that  the  senators, — 

Have  heaped  no  wealth,  though  hoary  grown  in  honors, 

and  George  might  have  silently  assented  to  the  reply  of  Gibber 
Jun.,  in  "  Messala,"  that,—  ' 

On  crowns  they  trample  with  superior  pride ; 
They  haughtily  affect  the  pomp  of  princea 


CAROLINE  WILHELMINA    DOROTHEA. 


283 


I  do  not  know  who  played  the  Prince  of  Wales  at  "  Drury."  1 
find  that  Shakespeare's  Henry  Fourth  was  played  on  April  11, 
1735,  but  only  three  of  the  characters  are  named  in  the  newspaper 
announcement,— namely,  Falstaff,  by  Harper;  Hostess,  by  Mrs. 
Cross ;  and  DoU  Tearsheet,  by  Miss  Mann.  Three  weeks  after- 
wards, Frederick  ''  commanded"  the  farce  of  "  A  Cure  for  a  Scold ;" 
and  as  this  was  at  a  time  when  dissension  between  himself  and 
his  royal  mother  ran  highest,  the  piece  commanded  may  have  had 
some  ''intention''  in  it.  As  these  amiable  people  did  all  they 
possibly  could  to  annoy  one  another,  perhaps  when  their  majesties, 
at  the  time  of  the  union  between  the  Prince  of  Wales  and  the 

Princess  Augusta  of  Saxe  Gotha,  began  to  be  much  spoken  of, 

commanded    the    "  Fatal    Marriage"   at    Drury    Lane   (for  Mrs. 
Porter's  benefit),  there  also  may  have  been  something  satirical,  ii 
not  significant  therein.     At  Covent  Garden,  Henry  Fourth  was 
represented  on  the  17th  of  April,  1735  ;  and  this  was  the  night, 
perhaps,  on  which  the  king  was  delighted  to  find  a  scrubby  Prince 
ot  Wales  whom  he  might  most  heartily  abuse.     The  prince,  on  this 
occasion,  was  represented  by  Hallam.     Stephen  played  the  King, 
and  Bridgewater,  Falstaff.     At  distant  Goodman's  Fields  the  sam°e 
piece  was  also  represented,  and  with  a  better  cast  than  that  of  the 
play  represented  before  royalty.     Hullett  was  the  "  ton  of  man," 
graceful  Delane  i)layed  the  gallant  Hotspur;  airy  Woodward  en- 
acted  Prince  John  ;  Howard  was  the   Mortimer,  and  Gifford,— 
who  in  one  person  combined  those  tragic,  comic,  and  melo-drama- 
tic  powers  which  we  have  seen  in  our  times  in  Wallack  and  Charles 
Kemble,— was  a  Prince  of  Wales,  at   whom  not   even  a  royal 
critic  could  have  fairly  sneered.     Hallam,  then,  was  the  prince  who 
earned  the  court's  abuse. 

Such  abuse  were  specimens  of  the  warmth  of  temper  which 
Caroline  had  to  bear  from  her  royal  consort.  Her  vice-cham- 
berlain asserts,  that  the  royal  heart  still  beat  for  her  as 
warmly  as  the  temper  did  against  her.  This  assertion  is  not  proved ; 
but  the  contrar}',  by  the  facts.  These  facts  were  of  so  painful  a 
nature  to  the  queen,  that  she  did  not  like  to  speak  of  them  even  to 
Sir  Robert  Walpole.  One  of  them  is  a  precious  instance  of  the 
conjugal  warmth  of  heart  pledged  for  by  Lord  Hervey. 


284 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


The  night  before  the  king  had  last  left  Hanover  for  England, 
he  supped  gaily,  in  company  with  Madame  Walmoden  and  her 
friends,  who  were  not  so  nice  as  to  think  that  the  woman  who  had 
deserted  her  husband  for  a  king  who  betrayed  his  consort,  had  at 
all  lost  caste  by  such  conduct.  Towards- the  close  of  the  banquet, 
the  frail  lady,  all  wreathed  in  mingled  tears  and  smiles,  rose,  and 
gave  as  a  toast,  or  sentiment,  the  "  next  29th  of  May."  On  that 
day  the  old  libertine  had  promised  to  be  again  at  the  feet  of  his 
new  concubine  ;  and  as  this  was  known  to  the  select  and  delicate 
company,  they  drank  the  "toast"  amid  shouts  of  loyalty  and  con- 
gratulations. 

The  knowledge  yf  this  fact  gave  more  pain  to  Caroline  than  all 
the  royal  fits  of  ill-humor  together.  The  pain  was  increased  by 
the  king's  conduct  at  home.  It  had  been  his  custom  of  a  morning, 
at  St.  James's,  to  tarry  in  the  queen's  rooms  until  al\er  he  had, 
from  behind  the  blinds,  seen  the  guard  relieved  in  the  court-yard 
below :  this  took  place  about  eleven  o'clock.  This  year,  he  ceased 
to  visit  the  queen,  or  to  watch  the  soldiers ;  but  by  nine  o'clock  in 
the  morning  he  was  seated  at  his  desk,  writing  lengthy  epistles  to 
Madtmie  Walmoden,  in  reply  to  the  equally  long  letters  from  the 
lady,  who  received  and  despatched  a  missive  every  post. 

"  He  wants  to  go  to  Hanover,  does  he  ?"  asked  Sir  Robert  Wal- 
pole  of  Lord  Hervey  ;  "  and  to  be  there  by  the  29th  of  May. 
Well,  he  shan't  go  for  all  that." 

But  domestic  griefs  could  not  depress  the  queen's  wit.  An  il- 
lustration of  this  is  afforded  by  her  remark  on  the  Triple  AUiance, 
"  It  always  put  her  in  mind,"  she  said,  "  of  the  South  Sea  scheme, 
which  the  parties  concerned  entered  into,  not  without  knowing  the 
cheat,  but  hoping  to  make  advantage  of  it,  everv  botly  designing, 
when  he  had  made  his  own  fortune,  to  be  the  ii'i-st  in  scraiSbling 
out  of  it,  and  each  thinking  himself  wise  enough  to  be  able  to  leave 
his  fellow-adventurers  in  the  lurch.'* 

This  was,  perhaps,  rather  common  sense  than  wit ;  but,  what- 
ever it  may  be  accounted,  the  same  happy  judgment  and  expres- 
sion were  illustrated  on  many  other  occasions,  as  may  be  seen  in 
Lord  Hervey's  Diary,  to  whose  pages  the  reader  is  referred. 
It  has  been  weU  observed,  that  the  king's  good  humor  was  now 


CAROLINE   WILHELMINA   DOROTHEA. 


285 


as  insulting  to  her  majesty  as  his  bad.     When  he  was  in  the  former 
rare  vein,  he  exhibited  it  by  entertaining  the  queen  with  accounts 
of  her  rival,  and  the  many  pleasures  which  he  and  that  lady  had 
enjoyed  together.     He  appears  at  Hanover  to  have  been  as  extra- 
vagant in  the  entertainments  which  he  gave,  as  his  grandfather, 
Ernest  Augustus.     Some  of  these  court  revels  he  caused  to  be 
painted  on  canvas ;  the  ladies  represented  therein  were  all  por- 
traits  of  the   actual   revellers.     Several  of  such  pictures  were 
brought  over  to  England,  and  five  of  them  were  hung  up  in  the 
queen's   dressing-room.     Occasionally,  of  an   evening,  the    king 
would  take  a  candle  from  the  queen's  table,  and  go  from  picture  to 
picture,  with  Lord  Hervey,  telling  him  its  history,  explaining  the 
joyous  incidents,  naming  the  persons  represented,  and  detailing  all 
that  had  been  said  or  done  on  the  particular  occasion  before  them. 
«*  During  which  lecture,"  says  the  vice-chamberlain  himself,  "  Lord 
Hervey,  while  peeping  over  his  majesty's  shoulders  at  those  pic- 
tures, was  shrugging  up  his  own,  and  now  and  then  stealing  a  look, 
to  make  faces  at  the  queen,  who,  a  little  angry,  a  little  peevish,  and 
a  little  tired  at  her  husband's  absurdity,  and  a  little  entertained 
with  his  lordship's  grimaces,  used  to  sit  and  knot  in  a  comer  of  the 
room,  sometimes  yawning,   and  sometimes  smiling,  and    equally 
afraid  of  betraying  those  signs,  either  of  her  lassitude  or  mirth." 

In  the  course  of  the  year  which  we  have  now  reached.  Queen 
Caroline  communicated  to  Lord  Hervey  a  fact,  which  is  not  so 
much  evidence  of  her  majesty's  common-sense,  as  of  the  presump- 
tion and  immorality  of  those  who  gave  Caroline  little  credit  for 
having  even  the  sense  that  is  so  qualified.  Lord  Bolingbroke  had 
married  the  Marchioness  de  Villette,  niece  of  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon,  about  the  year  1716.  Tlie  union,  however,  was  not  only 
kept  secret  for  many  years,  but  when  Bolingbroke  was  under  at- 
tainder, and  a  sum  of  52,000/.  belonging  to  his  wife  was  in  the 
hands  of  Decker,  the  banker,  Lady  Bolingbroke  swore  that  she 
was  not  maiTied  to  him,  and  so  obtained  possession  of  a  sum  which> 
being  hers,  was  her  husband's,  and  which,  befng  her  husband's, 
who  was  attainted  as  a  traitor,  was  forfeit  to  the  crown.  However, 
as  some  of  it  went  through  the  hands  of  poor  Sophia  Dorothea's 
rival,  the  easy  Duchess  of  Kendal,  and  her  rapacious  niece  Ladj 


286 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


CAROLINE  WILHELMINA  DOROTHEA. 


287 


Walsingham,  the  matter  was  not  inquired  into.      Subsequently, 
Lady  Bolingbroke  attempted  to  excuse  her  husband's  alleged  deal- 
ings with  the  pretender,  by  asserting  that  he  entered  into  them 
solely  for  the  purpose  of  serving  the  court  of  London.     "  That  was, 
in  short,"  said  Caroline  to  Lord  Ilervey,  "to  betray  the  pretender; 
for  though   Madame  de  Villette  softened  the  word,  she  did  not 
soften  the  thing,  which  I  own,"  continued  the  queen, "  was  a  speech 
that  had  so  much  impudence  and  villany  mixed  up  in  it,  that  I 
could  never  hear  him  or  her  from  that  hour,  and  could  hardly 
hinder  myself  from  saying  to  her,—*  And  pray,  madam,  what  secu- 
rity can  the  king  have  that  my  Lord  Bolingbroke  does  not  desire 
to  come  here  with  the  same  honest  desire  that  he  went  to  Rome  ? 
or  that  he  swears  that  he  is  no  longer  a  Jacobite,  with  any  more 
truth  than  you  have  sworn  you  are  not  his  wife?'"     The  only 
wonder  is,  considering  Carohne's  vivacious  character,  that  she  re- 
strained herself  from  giving  expression  to  her  thoughts.     She  was 
eminently  fond  of  *' speaking  daggers"  to  those  who  merited  such 
a  gladiatorial  visitation. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE    MARRIAGE    OF    FREDERICK    PRINCE    OF    WALES. 

The  queen  never  exhibited  her  cleverness  in  a  clearer  light,  than 
when,  in  1735,  she  got  over  the  expected  difficulty  arising  from  a 
tlireatened  parliamentary^  address  to  the  throne,  for  the  marriage 
and  settlement  of  the  Prince  of  Wales.  She  *'  crushed  "  it,  to  use 
the  term  employed  by  Lord  Ilervey,  by  gaining  the  kmg's  eon- 
sent,  no  dithcult  matter,  to  tell  the  prince  that  it  was  his  royal  sire's 
intention  to  marry  him  forthwith.  The  king  had  no  princess  in 
view  for  him  ;  but  was  ready  to  sanction  any  choice  he  might  think 
proper  to  make,  and  the  sooner  the  better.  As  if  the  thing  were 
ah-eady  settled,  the  queen,  on  her  side,  talked  publicly  of  the  com- 
ing marriage  of  the  heir  apparent ;  but  not  a  word  was  breathed 
as  to  the  person  of  the  bride.     Caroline,  moreover,  to  give  the 


matter  a  greater  air  of  reality,  purchased  clothes  for  the  wedding 
of  her  son  with  the  yet  "  invisible  lady,"  and  sent  perpetually  to 
jewellers  to  get  presents  for  the  ideal,  future,  Princess  of  Wales. 

The  lady,  however,  was  not  a  merely  visionary  bride.  It  was 
during  the  absence  of  the  king  in  Hanover,  that  it  was  delicately 
contrived  for  him  to  see  a  marriageable  princess, — Augusta  of 
Saxe  Gotha.  He  approved  of  what  he  saw,  and  wrote  home  to 
the  queen,  bidding  her  to  prepare  her  son  for  the  bridal. 

Caroline  communicated  the  order  to  Frederick,  who  received  it 
with  due  resignation.  His  mother,  who  had  great  respect  for  out- 
ward obsenances,  counselled  him  to  begin  his  preparations  for 
marriage,  by  sending  away  his  ostentatiously  maintained  favorite, 
Miss  Vane.  Frederick  pleaded  his  mother  by  dismissing  Miss 
Vane,  and  then  pleased  himself  by  raising  to  the  vacant  bad  emi- 
nence Lady  Archibald  Hamilton,  a  woman  of  thirty-five  years  of 
age,  and  the  mother  of  ten  children.  The  prince  visited  her  at  her 
husband's  house,  where  he  was  as  well  received  by  the  master  aa 
by  the  mistress.  He  saw  her  constantly  at  her  sister's,  rode  out 
with  her,  walked  with  her  daily  for  hours  in  St.  James's  Park, 
"  and,  whenever  ?lie  was  at  the  drawing-room  (which  was  pretty 
frequently.)  his  beliavior  was  so  remarkable,  that  his  nose  and  her 
ear  were  inseparable,  whilst,  without  discontinuing,  he  would  talk 
to  her  as  if  he  had  rather  been  relating  than  conversing,  from  the 
time  he  came  into  the  room  to  the  moment  he  left  it,  and  then 
seemed  to  be  rather  inteiTupted  than  to  have  finished."* 

The  first  request  made  by  Lady  Archibald  to  her  royal  lover 
was,  that  he  would  not  be  satisfied  ^ith  putting  away  Miss  Vane ; 
but  that  he  would  send  her  out  of  the  country.  The  prince  did 
not  hesitate  a  moment ;  he  sent  a  royal  message,  wherein  he  was 
guilty  of  an  act  of  which  no  man  would  be  guilty,  to  the  woman 
whom  he  had  loved.  The  message  was  taken  by  Lord  Baltimore, 
who  bore  projwsals,  offering  an  annuity  of  1600/.  a-year  to  the  lady, 
on  condition  that  she  would  proceed  to  the  continent,  and  give  up 
the  little  son  which  owed  to  her  the  disgrace  of  his  birth,  but  to 
which  both  she  and  the  prince  were  most  afifectionately  attached. 
The  alternative  was  starvation  in  England. 

*  Lord  Hen  cj. 


288 


LIYSS  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


CAROLINE   WILHELMINA    DOROTHEA. 


289 


Miss  Vane  had  an  old  admirer,  to  whom  she  sent  in  the  hour 
of  adversity,  and  who  was  the  more  happy  to  aid  her  in  her  ex- 
tremity as,  by  so  doing,  he  should  not  only  have  some  claim  on  her 
gratitude,  but  that  he  could  to  the  utmost  of  his  heart's  desire, 
annoy  the  prince,  whom  he  intensely  despised. 

Lord  Hervey  sat  down,  and  imagining  himself  for  the  nonce  in 
the  place  o£  Miss  Vane,  he  wrote  a  letter  in  tliat  lady*s  name. 
The  supposed  writer  softly  reproved  the  fickle  prince,  reminded 
him  of  the  fond  old  times  ere  love  yet  had  expired,  resigned  her- 
self to  the  necessity  of  sacrificing  her  own  interests  to  that  of  Eng- 
land, and  then  running  over  the  sacrifices  which  a  foolish  woman 
must  ever  make — of  character,  friends,  family,  and  peace  of  mind 
— for  the  fool  or  knave  whom  she  loves  with  more  irregularity 
than  wisdom,  she  burst  forth  into  a  tone  of  indignation  at  the  min- 
gled meanness  and  cruelty  of  which  she  was  now  made  the  object, 
and  finally  refused  to  leave  either  England  or  her  child,  spuming 
the  money  offered  by  the  father,  and  preferring  any  fate  that 
might  come,  provided  she  were  not  banished  from  the  presence 
and  the  love  of  her  bo  v. 

Frederick  was  simple  enough  to  exhibit  this  letter  to  his  mother, 
sisters,  and  friends,  observing  at  the  same  time,  that  it  was  far  too 
clever  a  production  to  come  from  the  hand  of  Miss  Vane,  and  that 
he  would  not  give  her  a  farthing  until  she  had  revealed  the  name 
of  the  Tdscal"  who  had  written  it.  The  author  was  popularly 
set  down  as  being  Mr.  Pulteney. 

On  the  other  hand.  Miss  Vane  published  the  prince's  offer  to 
her,  and  therewith  her  own  letter  in  reply.  The  world  was  unan- 
imous in  condemning  him  as  mean  and  cruel.  Not  a  soul  ever 
thought  of  finding  fault  with  him  as  immoral.  At  length  a  com- 
promise was  ofiectod.  The  prince  explained  away  the  cruel  terms 
of  his  own  epistle,  and  Miss  Vane  withdrew  what  wa«  painful  to 
him  in  hers.  The  pension  of  1600/.  a  year  was  settled  on  her, 
with  wliich  she  retired  to  a  mansion  in  Grosvenor  Street,  her  little 
S4.»n  accompanying  her.  But  the  anxiety  she  had  undergone  had 
so  seriously  affected  her  health,  that  she  was  very  soon  after  com- 
pelled to  proceed  to  Bath.  The  waters  were  not  healing  waters 
for  her.     She  died  in  that  city,  on  the  11th  of  March,  173C,  hav- 


ing had  one  felicity  reserved  for  her  in  her  decline,  the  inexpres- 
sible one  of  seeing  her  little  son  die  before  her.  "  The  queen  and 
the  Princess  Caroline,"  says  Lord  Hervey,  " thought  the  prince 
more  afflicted  for  the  loss  of  this  child  than  they  had  ever  seen  him 
on  any  occasion,  or  thought  him  capable  of  being." 

One  of  the  most  cherished  projects  of  George  the  Second  was, 
the  union  by  marriage  of  two  of  his  own  children  with  two  of  the 
children  of  the  King  of  Prussia.  Such  an  alliance  would  have 
bound  more  intimately  the  descendants  of  Sophia  Dorothea,  through 
her  son  and  daughter.  The  double  marriage  was  proposed  to  the 
King  of  Prussia,  in  the  name  of  the  King  of  England,  by  Sir 
Charles  Ilotliara,  minister  plenipotentiary.  George  proposed  that 
his  eldest  son,  Frederick,  should  maiTy  the  eldest  daughter  of  the 
King  of  Prussia,  and  that  his  second  daughter  should  marry  the  ' 
same  king's  eldest  son.  To  these  terms  the  Prussian  monarch 
would  not  agree,  objecting  that  if  he  gave  his  eldest  daughter  to 
the  Prince  of  Wales,  he  must  have  the  eldest,  and  not  the  second, 
da  jghter  of  George  and  Caroline  for  the  Prince  of  Prussia.  Car- 
oline would  have  agreed  to  these  terms ;  but  George  would  not 
yield :  the  proposed  intermarriages  were  broken  off,  and  the  two 
courts  were  estranged  for  years. 

The  Prussijm  princess,  Frederica  "Wilhelmina,  has  published  the 
memoirs  of  her  life  and  times ;  and  Ranke,  quoting  them  in  his 
**  History  of  the  House  of  Brandenburgh,"  enters  largely  into  the 
matrimonial  question,  which  was  involved  in  mazes  of  diplomacy. 
Into  the  latter  it  is  not  necessary  to  enter ;  but  to  those  who  would 
know  the  actual  causes  of  the  failure  of  these  proposed  royal  mar- 
riages, the  following  passage  from  Ranke's  work  will  not  be  with- 
out interest. 

**  Wliatever  be  their  exaggerations  and  errors,  the  memoirs  of 
the  Princess  Frederica  AVilhelmina  must  always  be  considered  as 
one  of  the  most  remarkable  records  of  the  state  of  the  Prussian 
court  of  that  period.  From  these  it  is  evident,  that  neither  she 
herself,  nor  the  queen,  had  the  least  idea  of  the  grounds  which 
made  the  king  reluctant  to  give  an  immediate  consent  to  the  pro- 
posals.    They  saw  in  him  a  domestic  tyrant,  severe  only  towards 

Iiis  family,  and  weak  to  indifferent  persons.     The  hearts  on  both 
Vol  L— i;j 


I 


290 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS   OF  ENGLAND. 


Bides  became  filled  with  bitterness  and  aversion.  The  crown-prince, 
too,  who  was  still  of  an  age  when  young  men  are  obnoxious  to  the 
influence  of  a  clever  elder  sister,  was  infected  with  these  senti- 
ments. With  a  view  to  promote  her  marriage,  he  suffered  himself 
to  be  induced  to  draw  up  in  secret  a  formal  declaration,  that  he 
would  give  his  hand  to  no  other  than  an  English  princess.  On  the 
other  hand,  it  is  inconceivable  to  what  measures  the  other  party 
had  recourse,  in  order  to  keep  the  king  steady  to  his  resolution. 
Seckendorf  had  entirely  won  over  General  Grumbkoo,  the  king's 
daily  and  confidential  companion,  to  his  side ;  both  of  them  kept 
up  a  correspondence  of  a  revolting  nature  with  Reichenbach,  the 
Prussian  resident  in  London.  This  Reichenbach,  who  boasts  some- 
where of  his  indifference  to  outward  honors,  and  who  was,  at  all 
events,  chiefly  deficient  in  an  inward  sense  of  honor,  not  only  kept 
up  a  direct  correspondence  with  Seckendorf,  in  which  he  informed 
him  of  all  that  was  passing  in  England  in  relation  to  the  marriage, 
and  assured  the  Austrian  agent  that  he  might  reckon  on  him  as 
on  himself;  but,  what  is  far  worse,  he  allowed  Grumbkoo  to  dic- 
tate to  him  what  he  was  to  write  to  the  king,  and  composed  his 
dispatches  according  to  his  directions.  It  is  hardly  conceivable 
that  these  letters  should  not  have  been  destroyed  ;  they  were,  how- 
ever, found  among  Grumbkoo's  papers  at  his  death.  Reichenbach, 
who  played  a  subordinate  part,  but  who  regarded  himself  as  the 
third  party  to  this  conspiracy,  furnished  on  his  side  facts  and  argu- 
ments, which  were  to  be  urged  orally  to  the  king,  in  supjiort  of  his 
statements.  Their  system  was  to  represent  to  the  king,  that  the 
only  purpose  of  England  was  to  reduce  Prussia  to  the  condition  of 
a  province,  and  to  turn  a  party  around  him  that  might  fetter  and 
control  all  his  actions ;  representations  to  which  Frederick  William 
was  already  disjwsed  to  lend  an  ear.  He  wished  to  avoid  having 
an  English  daughter-in-law,  because  he  feared  he  should  be  no 
longer  master  in  his  own  house ;  perhaps  she  would  think  herself 
of  more  importance  than  him  ;  he  should  die,  inch  by  inch,  of  vex- 
ation. On  comparing  these  intrigues,  carried  on  on  either  side  of 
the  king,  we  must  admit  that  the  former — those  in  his  own  family 
— were  the  more  excusable,  since  their  sole  object  was  the  accom- 
plishment of  those  marriages ;  upon  the  mere  suspicion  of  which 


CAROLINE   WILHELMINA    DOROTHEA. 


291 


the  king  broke  out  into  acts  of  violence,  which  terrified  his  family 
and  his  kingdom,  and  astonished  Europe.  The  designs  of  the 
other  party  were  far  more  serious;  their  purpose  was  to  bind 
Prussia  in  every  point  to  the  existing  system,  and  to  keep  her 
•aloof  from  England.  Of  this  the  king  had  no  idea ;  he  received 
without  suspicion  whatever  Reichenbach  wrote,  or  Grumbkoo 
reported  to  him." 

The  mutual  friends,  whose  interest  it  was  to  keep  Prussia  and 
England  wide  apart,  labored  with  a  zeal  worthy  of  a  better  cause, 
and  not  only  broke  the  proposed  marriages,  but  made  enemies  of 
the  two  kings.  A  dispute  was  built  up  between  them,  touching 
Mecklenburgh ;  and  Prussian  press-gangs  and  recruiting  parties 
crossed  into  the  Hanoverian  territory,  and  carried  off  or  inveigled 
the  King  of  England's  electoral  subjects  into  the  military  service 
of  Prussia.  This  was  the  most  outrageous  insult  that  could  have 
been  devised  against  the  English  monarch,  and  it  was  the  most 
cruel  that  could  be  inflicted  upon  the  inhabitants  of  the  electorate. 

The  king  of  Prussia,  as  I  have  had  occasion  to  say  elsewhere, 
was  not  nice  of  his  means  for  entrapping  men,  nor  careful  on  whose 
territory  he  seized  them,  j)rovided  only  they  were  obtained.  The 
districts  touching  on  the  Prussian  frontier  were  kept  in  a  constant 
state  of  alarm,  and  border  frays  were  as  frequent  and  as  fatal  as 
they  were  on  England  and  Scotland's  neutral  ground,  which  derived 
its  name  from  an  oblique  application  of  etj-mology,  and  was  so 
called  because  neither  country's  fiiction  hesitated  to  commit  mur- 
der or  robbery  upon  it.  I  have  seen  in  the  inns  near  these  frontiers 
some  strange  memorials  of  these  old  times.  Those  I  allude  to,  are 
in  the  shape  of  "  mandats,"  or  directions,  issued  by  the  authorities, 
and  they  are  kept  framed  and  glazed,  old  curiosities,  like  the 
ancient  way-bill  at  the  Swan,  at  York,  which  announces  a  new  fast 
coach  travelling  to  London,  God  willing,  in  a  week.  These 
mandats,  which  were^very  common  in  Hanover  when  Frederick, 
after  refusing  the  English  alliance,  took  to  sending  his  Werbers,  or  re- 
cruiters, to  lay  hold  of  such  of  the  people  as  were  likely  to  make  good 
tall  soldiers,  were  to  this  effect :  they  enjoined  all  the  dwellers  near  the 
frontiers  to  be  provided  with  arms  and  ammunition ;  the  militia  to  hold 
themselves  ready  against  any  surprise;  the  arms  to  be^xamined  every 


292 


LIVES   OF  THE    QUEENS   OF   ENGLAND. 


Sunday  by  the  proper  authorities ;  watch  and  ward  to  be  maintained 
day  and  night ;  patroles  to  be  active ;  and  it  was  ordered  that,  the  in- 
stant any  strange  soldiers  were  seen  approaching,  the  alannn-bells 
should  be  sounded,  and  preparations  be  made  for  repelling  force  by 
force.  The  Prussian  Werbers,  as  they  were  called,  were  wont  ■ 
sometimes  to  do  their  spiriting  in  shape  so  questionable,  that  the 
most  anti-belligerent  tmvellers,  and  tlie  most  unwarlike  and  well- 
intentioned  bodies,  were  liable  to  be  tired  upon,  if  their  characters 
were  not  at  once  explained  and  understood.  These  were  times 
when  Hanoverians,  who  stood  in  fear  of  Prussia,  never  lay  down 
in  bed  but  with  arms  by  their  side ;  times  when  young  peasants 
who,  influenced  by  soft  attractions,  stole  by  night  from  one  village 
to  another  to  pay  their  devoirs  to  bright  eyes  waking  to  receive 
them,  walked  through  perils,  love  in  their  hearts,  and  a  musket  on 
their  shoulders.  The  enrollers  of  Frederick,  and  indeed  those  of 
his  great  son  after  him,  cast  a  chill  shadow  of  fear  over  every  age, 
sex,  and  station  of  life. 

In  the  mean  time  the  two  kings  reviled  each  other  as  coarsely 
as  any  two  dragoons  in  their  respective  services.  The  quarrel  was 
nursed  until  it  was  proposed  to  be  settled,  not  by  diplomacy,  but  by 
a  duel.  When  this  was  first  suggested,  the  place,  but  not  the  time 
of  meeting,  was  immediately  agreed  uj)on.  The  territory  of 
Hildesheim  was  to  be  the  spot  whereon  were  to  meet  in  deadly 
combat  two  monarchs — two  fathers,  who  could  not  quietly  arrange 
a  marriage  between  their  sons  and  daughters.  It  really  seemed  as 
if  the  blood  of  Sophia  Dorothea  of  Zell  was  ever  to  be  fatal  to 
peace,  and  averse  from  connubial  felicity. 

The  royal  son  of  Sophia  selected  Brigadier-General  Sutten  for 
his  second.  The  son-in-law  of  Sophia  (it  will  be  remembered  that 
he  had  married  that  unhappy  lady's  daughter)  conferred  a  similar 
honor  on  Colonel  Derschein.  His  English  majesty  was  to  proceed 
to  the  designated  arena  from  Hanover ;  Frederick  was  to  make 
his  way  thither  from  Saltzdhal,  near  Brunswick.  The  two  kings 
of  Brentford  could  not  have  looked  more  ridiculous  than  these  two. 
They  would,  undoubtedly,  have  crossed  weapons,  had  it  not  been 
for  the  strong  common  sense  of  a  Prussian  diplomatist,  named 
Borck.     "  It  is  quite  right,  and  exceedingly  dignified,"  said  Borck, 


CAROLINE   WILHELMINA   DOROTHEA. 


293 


one  day  to  his  master,  when  the  latter  was  foaming  with  rage 
against  George  the  Second,  and  expressing  an  eager  desire  for  fix- 
ing a  near  day  whereon  to  settle  their  quarrel, — "  it  is  most  fitting 
and  seemly,  since  your  majesty  will  not  marry  with  England,  to  cut 
the  throat,  if  possible,  of  the  English  monarch;  but  your  fahhful 
servant  would  still  advise  your  majesty  not  to  be  overhasty  in 
fixing  the  day :  ill-luck  might  come  of  it."  On  being  urged  to 
show  how  this  might  be,  he  remarked, — '"  Your  gracious  majesty 
has  lately  been  ill,  is  now  far  from  well,  and  might,  by  naming  an 
early  day  for  voidance  of  this  quarrel,  be  unable  to  keep  his  ap- 
pointment." "  We  would  name  another,"  said  the  king.  "  And  in 
the  mean  time,"  observed  Borck,  "all  Europe,  generally,  and 
George  of  England,  in  particular,  would  be  smiling,  laughing,  com- 
menting on,  and  ridiculing  the  king  who  failed  to  appear,  where  he 
had  promised  to  be  present  with  his  sword.  Your  majesty  must 
not  expose  your  sacred  person  and  character  to  such  a  catastrophe 
as  this:  settle  nothing  till  there  is  certainty  that  the  pledge  will  be 
kept ;  and,  in  the  mean  time,  defer  naming  the  day  of  battle  for  a 
fortnight." 

The  advice  of  Borck  was  followed,  and,  of  course  the  fight  never 
*^  came  off."  The  ministers  of  both  governments  exerted  them- 
selves to  save  their  respective  masters  from  rendering  themselves 
supremely,  and  perhaps  sanguinarily,  ridiculous, — for  the  blood  of 
both  would  not  have  washed  out  the  absurdity  of  the  thing.  Choler 
abated,  common  sense  came  up  to  the  surface,  assumed  the  supre- 
macy, and  saved  a  couple  of  foolish  kings  from  slaying  or  mangling 
each  other.  George,  however,  was  resolved,  and  that  for  more 
reasons  than  it  is  necessary  to  specify,  that  a  wife  must  be  found 
for  his  heir-apparent ;  and  it  was  Caroline  who  directed  him  to  look 
at  the  princesses  in  the  small  and  despotic  court  of  Saxe  Gotha. 

Lord  Delawar,  who  was  sent  to  demand  the  hand  of  the  princess 
from  her  brother,  the  Duke  of  Saxe  Gotha,  was  long,  lank, 
awkward,  and  unpolished.  There  was  no  fear  here  of  the  catas- 
trophe which  followed  on  the  introduction  to  Francesca  de  Rimini 
of  the  handsome  envoy  whom  she  mistook  for  her  bridegroom,  and 
yrith  whom  she  too  prematurely  fell  in  love,  as  soon  as  she  beheld 
him.  "^ 


294 


LIVES   OF  THE   QUEENS   OF   ENGLAND. 


Walpole,  writing  from  King's  College,  May  2,  1736,  says:  "I 
believe  the  princess  will  have  more  beauties  bestowed  on  her  by 
the  occasional  poets,  than  even  a  painter  would  afford  her.  They 
will  cook  up  a  new  Pandora,  and  in  the  bottom  of  the  box  inclose 
Hope,  that  all  they  have  said  is  true.  A  great  many,  out  of  excess 
of  good  breeding,  who  have  heard  that  it  was  rude  to  talk  Latin 
before  women,  propose  complimenting  her  in  English ;  which  she 
will  be  much  the  better  for.  I  doubt  most  of  them,  instead  of 
fearing  their  composition  should  not  be  understood,  should  fear  they 
should ;  they  wish  they  don't  know  what  to  be  read  by  they  don't 
know  who." 

When  the  king  dispatched  some  half  dozen  lords  of  his  council 
to  propose  to  the  prince  that  he  should  espouse  the  youthful  prin- 
cess Augusta,  he  replied,  with  a  tone  of  mingled  duty  and  indifference, 
something  like  Captain  Absolute  in  the  play,  that  "  whoever  his 
majesty  thought  a  proper  match  for  his  son,  would  be  agreeable  to 
him." 

The  match  was  straightway  resolved  upon ;  and  as  the  young 
lady  knew  little  of  French,  and  less  of  English,  it  was  suggested 
to  her  mother  that  a  few  lessons  in  both  languages  would  not  be 
thrown  away.  The  Duchess  of  Saxe  Gotha,  however,  was  wiser 
in  her  own  conceit  than  her  officious  counsellors  ;  and  remembering 
that  the  Hanoverian  family  had  been  a  score  of  years,  and  more, 
upon  tlie  throne  of  England,  she  very  naturally  concluded  that  the 
people  all  spoke  or  understood  German,  and  that  it  would  really  be 
needlessly  troubling  the  child  to  make  her  learn  two  languages,  to 
acquire  a  knowledge  of  which  would  not  be  worth  the  juiins  spent 
upon  the  labor. 

When  princesses  espouse  heirs  to  thrones,  they  are  certainly 
treated  but  with  very  scanty  ceremony.  It  would  seem  that  their 
own  feelings  are  allowed  to  exercise  very  little  influence  in  the 
matter ;  there  is  no  pleasant  wooing  time ;  the  bridegroom  does 
not  even  give  himself  the  trouble  to  seek  the  bride ;  and  when  the 
latter  marines  the  deputy  who  is  dispatched  to  espouse  her  by 
proxy,  she  knows  as  little  of  the  principal  as  she  does  of  his  repre- 
sentative. But  be  this  as  it  mav,  the  bloominjr  voung  Princess  of 
Saxe  Gotha  submitted  joyfully  to  custom  and  the  chance  of  be 


CAROLINE  WILHELMINA   DOROTHEA. 


295 


coming  Queen  of  England.  She  was  willing  to  come  and  win 
what  the  Prince  of  Wales,  had  not  dignity  made  him  ungallant, 
should  have  gone  and  laid  at  her  feet,  and  besought  her  to  accept. 
Accordingly,  the  royal  yacht,  Willium  and  Mary^  destined  to  carry 
many  a  less  noble  freight  before  its  career  was  completed,  bore  the 
bride  to  our  shores.  She  had  a  less  stormy  passage  than  our 
English  Princess  Mary,  when  the  latter  crossed  the  channel  to 
esi)ouse  Louis  XII.  of  France.  The  Princess  Augusta  and  her 
bridal  suit  had  no  plumes  disordered,  nor  silks  discomposed,  nor 
minds  and  bodies  rendered  like  the  plumes  and  silks  by  the  rough- 
ness of  the  jouniey.  When  Lord  Delawar  handed  her  ashore  at 
Greenwich,  on  the  25th  April,  173G,  she  excited  general  admiration 
by  her  fresh  air,  good  humor,  and  tasteful  dress.  It  was  St. 
George's  day  ;  no  inauspicious  day  whereon  landing  should  be  made 
in  England  by  the  young  girl  of  seventeen,  who  was  to  be  the 
mother  of  the  first  king  born  and  bred  in  England  since  the  birth- 
day of  James  II. 

The  royal  bride  was  conducted  to  the  Queen's  House  in  the 
Park,  where,  as  my  fair  readers,  and  indeed  all  readers,  with 
equal  good  sense  and  a  proper  idea  of  the  fitness  of  things,  will 
naturally  conclude  that  all  the  royal  family  had  assembled  to 
welcome,  with  more  than  ordinary  warmth,  one  who  came  among 
them  under  circumstances  of  more  than  ordinary  interest.  But 
the  truth  is,  that  there  was  no  one  to  give  her  welcome  but  solemn 
officers  of  state  and  criticising  ladies  in  waiting.  The  jyeopk  were 
there  of  course,  and  the  princess  had  no  cause  to  complain  of  any 
lack  of  wai-rath  on  their  part.  For  want  of  better  company,  she 
spent  half  an  hour  with  the  English  commonalty ;  and  as  she  sat 
in  the  balcony  overlooking  the  park,  the  gallant  mob  shouted 
themselves  hoarse  in  her  praise,  and  did  her  all  homage  until  the 
tardy  lover  arrived,  whose  own  peculiar  homage  he  should  have 
been  in  a  little  more  lover-like  haste  to  pay.  However,  Frede- 
rick came  at  last,  and  he  came  alone.  The  king,  queen,  duke  and 
princesses  sent  "their  compliments,  and  hoped  she  was  well!" 
They  could  not  have  sent  or  said  less,  had  she  been  Griselda  fresh 
from  her  native  cottage,  and  about  to  become  the  bride  of  the 
l)rincc,  without  their  consent    and  altogether  against  their  will. 


296 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEEXS  OF   ENGLAND. 


But  the  day  was  Sunday,  and  perhaps  those  distinguished  per- 
sonages  were  reluctant  to  indulge  in  too  much  expansion  of  feelinff 
on  the  sacred  day. 

On  the  following  day,  Monday,  Greenwich  was  as  much  alive 
as  It  IS  on  a  tine  fair-day ;  for  the  princess  dmed  in  public,  and  all 
the  world  was  there  to  see  her.     That  is  to  say,  she  and  the 
prmce  dmed  together  m  an  apartment,  the  windows  of  which  were 
thrown  open  -  to  oblige  the  curiosity  of  the  people ;"  and  it  is 
only  to  be  hoped  that  the  springs  of  the  period  were  not  such 
mclement  seasons  as  those  generally  known  by  the  name  of  sprin- 
to  us.   The  people  having  stared  their  fill,  and  the  princess  havin- 
banqueted  as  comfortably  as  she  could  under  such  circumstance^ 
the  Prmce  of  Wales  took  her  down  to  the  water,  led  her  into  a 
gady  decorated  barge,  and  slowly  up  the  river  went  the  lovers  ^ 
with  horns  playmg,  streamers  Hying,  and  under  a  fusillade  from 
old  stocks  of  old  guns,  the  modest  artiUery  of  colliers  and  other 
craft  anxious  to  render  to  the  pair  the  usual  noisy  honors  of  the 
way.     They  returned  to    Greenwich   in   like   manner,  similarly 
honored,  and  there  having  supped  in  public,  the  prince  kissed  her 
hand,  took  his  leave,  and  promised  to  return  upon  the  morrow. 

On  the  Tuesday  the  already  enamored  Frederick  thou-ht  better 
of  his  engagement,  mid  tarried  at  home  till  the  princesl  arrived 
there.     She  had  left  Greenwich  in  one  of  the  roval  carria-e. 
irom  which  she  alighted   at    Lambeth,  where   taking   boat  Ihe 
crossed  to  ^\  hitehaU.     Here  one  of  Queen  Caroline's  state  chairs 
was  awaiting  her,  and  in  it  she  was  borne,  by  two  stout  carriers, 
plump  as  Cupids,  but  more  vigorous,  to  St.  James's  Palace.     The 
reception  here  was  magnificent  and  tastetul.     On  the  arrival  of 
the  bride,  the  bridegroom,  already  there  to  receive  her,  took  her 
by  the  hand  as  she  stepped  out  of  the  chair,  softly  checked  the 
motion  she  made  to  kneel  to  him  and  kiss  his  hand,  and  drawin.. 
her  to  him,  gallantly  impre^sed  a  kiss— nay  two,  for  the  record  h 
ver>  precise  on  this  matter— upon  her  lips.     AU  confusion  and 
happiness,  the  illustrious  couple  ascended  the  staircase,  hand  in 
hand.     The  prince  led  her  into  the  presence  of  a  splendid  and 
numerous  court,  first  introducing  her  to  the  kmg,  who  would  not 
suffer  her  to  kneel,  but,  putting  his  arm  around  her,  saluted  her 


CAROLINE  WILHELMINA    DOROTHEA. 


297 


on  each  cheek.  Queen  Caroline  greeted  as  warmly  the  bride  of 
her  eldest  son ;  and  the  Duke  of  Cumberland  and  the  princesses 
congratulated  her  on  her  arrival  in  terms  of  warm  affection. 

The  king,  who  had  been  irritaJbly  impatient  for  ihe  arrival  of 
the  bride,  and  had  declared  that  the  ceremony  should  take  place 
without  him,  if  it  were  not  speedily  concluded,  was  softened  by 
the  behavior  of  the  youthful  princess  on  her  first  appearing  in 
his  presence.  *'  She  threw  herself  all  along  on  the  floor,  first  at 
the  king's  and  then  at  the  queen's  feet."*  This  prostration  was 
known  to  be  so  acceptable  a  homage  to  his  majesty's  pride,  that, 
joined  to  the  propriety  of  her  whole  behavior  on  this  occasion,  it 
gave  the  spectators  great  prejudice  in  favor  of  her  understanding. 

The  poor  young  princess,  who  came  into  England  unaccom- 
panied by  a  single  female  friend,  behaved  with  a  propriety  and 
ease  which  won  the  admiration  of  Walpole,  and  the  sneers  of  the 
old  roue  ladies  who  criticised  her.  Her  self-possession,  joined  as 
it  was  with  modestv,  showed  that  she  was  "  well-bred."  She  was 
not  irreproachable  of  shape  or  carriage,  but  she  was  fair,  youthful 
and  sensible, — much  more  sensible  tharf*  the  bridegroom,  who 
quarrelled  with  his  brother  and  sisters,  in  her  very  presence,  upon 
the  right  of  sitting  down  and  being  waited  on,  in  such  presence ! 

The  squabbles  between  the  brothers  and  sisters  touching 
etiquette,  show  the  extreme  littleness  of  the  minds  of  those  who 
engaged  in  them.  The  prince  would  have  had  them,  on  the 
occasion  of  their  dining  with  himself  and  bride,  the  lay  before  the 
wedding,  be  satisfied  with  stools  instead  of  chairs,  and  consent  to 
being  served  with  something  less  than  the  measure  of  respect 
shown  to  him  and  the  bride.  To  meet  this,  they  refused  to  enter 
the  dining-room  till  the  stools  were  taken  away  and  chairs  sub- 
stituted. They  then  were  waited  upon  by  their  own  servants, 
who  had  orders  to  imitate  the  servants  of  the  Prince  of  Wales  in 
everj'  ceremony  used  at  table.  Later  in  the  evening,  when  coffee 
was  brought  round  by  the  prince's  servants,  his  visitors  declined 
to  take  any,  out  of  fear  that  their  brother's  domestics  might  have 
had  instructions  to  inflict  **  some  disgrace  (had  they  accepted  of 
any)  in  the  manner  of  giving  it!" 

*  Jjord  Hervey. 
13* 


298 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OP  ENGLAXD. 


CAUOLINE   WILHKLMIXA    DOKOTIIEA. 


299 


On  the  day  of  the  arrival  of  the  bride  at  St.  Jameses,  after  a 
dinner  of  some  state,  and  after  some  re-arrangement  of  costume 
the  ceremony  of  marriage  was  performed,  under  a  running  salute 
from  artillerj',  which  told  to  the  metropolis  the  progress  made  in 
the  nuptial  solemnity.     The  bride  -  was  in  her  hair,"  and  wore  a 
crown  with  one  bar,  as  Princess  of  Wales,  a  profusion  of  diamonds 
addmg  lustre  to  a  youthful  bearing  that  could  have  done  without 
It.     Here  robe  was  not,  indeed,  that  of  a  bride,  but  is  said  to  have 
been  the  proper  one  for  a  Princess  of  Wales,-it  was  of  crimson 
velvet,  bordered  with  row  upon  row  of  ermine,  and  with  a  train 
attached  which  was  supported  by  four  *•  maids,"  three  of  whom 
were  daughters  of  dukes.     They  were   Lady  Caroline  Lennox 
daughter  to   the    Duke   of  Richmond ;    Lady  Caroline  Fitzrov 
daughter  of  the   Duke  of  Grafton ;  Lady   Caroline   Cavendish! 
daughter  of  the  t)uke  of  Devonshire,-and,  with  the  three  brides 
who  bore  the  name  of  the  present  queen,  was  one  who  bore  that 
of  her  whom  the  king  had  looked  upon  as  really  Queen  of  En- 
land,--of  Sophia,  his  mother.     This  fourth  lady  was  Lady  SophFa 
Fermor,  daughter  of  the  Eari  of  Pomf  ret. 

I  have  said  that  the  robe  of  the  mariee  was  rather  that  of  a 
princess  than  of  a  bride,  but  I  must  not  be  misunderstood.  What 
IS  so  called  is  applied  only  to  the  mantle.  Excepting  the  mantle, 
the  '-maids"  wei-e  dressed  precisely  similar  to  the  -  bride"  whom 
they  surrounded  and  served.  They  were  all  in  "  virgin  habits  of 
silver."  AMwt  that  may  be,  I  do  not  profess  to  decide.  There  is 
more  clearness  about  the  next  detail,  which  tells  us  that  each 
bridesmaid  wore  diamonds  of  the  value  of  from  twenty  to  thirty 
thousand  jwunds  each. 

The  Duke  of  Cumberland  performed  the  office  of  father  to  the 
bride,  and  they  were  ushered  to  the  altar  by  the  Duke  of  Grafton 
and  Lord  Ilervey,  the  lord  and  vice-chamberiains  of  the  house- 
hold. The  Countess  of  Effingham  and  the  other  ladies  of  tho 
household,  left  the  queen's  side  to  swell  the  following  of  the  bride. 
The  Lord  Bishop  of  London,  Dean  of  the  Chapel  Roval,  officiated 
on  this  occasion,  and  when  he  pronounced  the  two  before  him  to 
have  become  as  one,  voices  in  harmony  arose  within,  the  trumpets 
blazoned  forth  their  edition  of  the  event,  the  drums  rolled  a  deaf- 


f 


ening  peal,  a  clash  of  instruments  followed,  and  above  all  boomed 
the  thunder  of  the  cannon  in  the  Park,  telling  in  a  million  echoes 
of  the  conclusion  of  the  irrevocable  compact.  A  little  ceremony 
followed  in  the  king's  drawing-room,  which  was  in  itself  appro- 
jtriate,  and  which  seemed  to  have  heart  in  it.  On  the  assembling 
there  of  the  entire  bridal  party,  the  newly-married  couple  went, 
once  more  hand  in  hand,  and  kneeling  before  the  king  and  his 
consort,  who  were  seated  at  the  upper  end  of  the  i-oom,  the  latter 
solemnly  gave  their  blessing  to  their  children,  and  bade  them  be 
happy. 

A  royally  joyous  supper  succeeded,  at  half-past  ten,  where 
healths  were  drank,  and  a  frolicsome  sort  of  spirit  maintained,  as 
was  common  in  those  somewhat  "conmion"  times.  And  then 
followed  a  sacred  portion  of  the  ceremony,  wliich  is  now  consider- 
ed as  being  more  honored  in  the  breach  than  the  observance.  The 
bride  was  conducted  processionally  to  her  sleeping  apartment ; 
while  the  prince  was  helped  to  disrobe  by  his  royal  sire,  and  his 
brother  the  duke.  The  latter  aided  him  in  divesting  him  of  some 
of  his  heavy  finery,  and  the  king  very  gravely  **  did  his  royal 
highness  and  prince  the  honor  to  put  on  his  shirt."  All  this  must 
have  been  considered  more  than  nuisance  enough  by  the  parties 
on  whom  it  was  inflicted  by  way  of  honor,  but  the  newly-married 
victims  of  that  day  had  much  more  to  endure. 

When  intimation  had  been  duly  made  that  the  princess  had 
been  undressed  and  re-dressed  by  her  maids,  and  was  seated  in 
the  bed  ready  to  receive  all  customary  and  suitable  honor,  the 
king  and  queen  entered  the  chamber.  The  former  was  attired  in 
a  dress  of  gold  brocade,  turned  up  with  silk,  embroidered  with 
large  flowers  in  silver  and  colors,  with  a  waistcoat  of  the  same, 
and  buttons  and  star  dazzling  with  diamonds.  Caroline  was  in  "  a 
plain  yellow  silk,  robed  and  faced  with  pearls,  diamonds,  and  other 
jewels,  of  immense  value.  The  Dukes  of  Newcastle,  Grafton, 
and  St.  Alban's,  the  Earl  of  Albemarle,  Colonel  Pelham,  and 
many  other  noblemen,  were  in  gold  brocades  of  from  three  to  five 
hundred  pounds  a  s«uit.  The  Duke  of  Marlborough  was  in  a  white 
velvet  and  gold  brocaded  tissue.  The  waistcoats  were  universally 
brocades  with  hirge   flowers.      It  was  observed,"  continues  the 


800 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


court  historiographer,  "  most  of  the  rich  clothes  were  of  the  manu- 
factures of  England,  and  in  honor  of  our  own  ai-tists.  The  iew 
which  were  French  did  not  come  up  to  those  in  goodness,  richness, 
or  fancy,  as  was  seen  by  the  clothes  worn  by  the  royal  family, 
which  were  all  of  British  manufacture.  The  cuffs  of  the  sleeves 
were  univei-sally  deep  and  open,  the  waists  long,  and  the  plaits 
more  sticking  out  than  ever.  The  ladies  were  principally  m  bro- 
cades of  gold  and  silver,  and  wore  their  sleeves  much  lower  than 
had  been  done  for  some  time." 

When  all  these  finely  di-essed  people  were  assembled,  and  the 
bride  was  sitting  upright  in  bed,  in  a  dress  of  superb  lace,  the 
pnncely  bridegroom  entered,  "  in  a  nightgown  of  sUver  stuff,  and 
a  cap  of  the  finest  lace."  He  must  have  looked  like  a  facetious 
prince  in  a  Christian  extravaganza.  However,  he  took  his  place 
by  the  side  of  the  bride  ;  and  while  both  sat  -  bolt  upright "  in  bed 
the  "fjuality"  generally  were  admitted  to  see  the  sight,  and  to'' 
smile  at  the  edifying  remarks  made  by  the  king  and  other  mem- 
bers of  the  royal  fjimily  who  surrounded  the  couch. 

The  whole  affair  has,  to  our  modern  eyes  and  thoughts,  a  mar- 
vellously flircical  appearance,  and  an  indelicate  iispecti  but  it  wa.., 
Ill  fact,  the  last  scene  of  a  drama  of  some  seriousness.     When  Sir 
Robert  Walpole  heard  that  the  old  Duchess  of  ^larlborou-h  had 
offered  her  favorite  grand-daughter,  Lady  Diana  Spencer,  with  a 
fortune  of  one  hundred  thousand  pounds,  to  this  prince  whose  ex- 
l>enses  far  exceeded  his  income  ;  and  wlien  he  understood,  more- 
over, that  the  prince  had  actually  condescended  to  take  the  money 
and  the  lady  with  it,  the  happy  day  being  fixed  whereon  the 
event  was  to  come  off  privately  at  the  duchess's  lodge  in  Windsor 
Park,  the  minister  became  as  busy  as  the  chief  intriguer  in  a 
Spanish  comedy  to  save  Frederick  from  an  act  of  disobedience 
and  foUy.     It  was  then  that,  by  the  advice  of  ^Sir  Robert,  the  kin- 
sent  a  message  through  two  privy  councillors  to  his  son,  with 
whom  he   was  already  at  variance,  proi>osing  to  him  the  match 
with  Augusta,  daughter  of  Frederick  II.,  Duke  of  Saxe-Gotha. 
The  lady,  as  before  stated,  was  not  ill-endowed  either  as  regards 
beauty  or  intellect.     Arrangements,  too,  were  proposed  to  Settle 
the  pecuniary  affairs  of  the  prince,  on  a  more  satisfactory  footin-- 


CAROLINE  WILUELMINA    DOROTHEA. 


301 


and  these  things  considered,  Frederick  consented  to  take  Augusta 
with  the  same  indifference,  and  for  about  the  same  reason,  which 
influenced  him  in  the  matter  of  Lady  Diana  Spencer.  When 
Walpole  now  saw  him  enter  the  state  bed-room  and  glide  through 
the  crowd  to  his  couch,  decked  in  his  silver-tissue  dress  and  night- 
cap,  he  might  have  congratulated  himself  on  the  comedy  being 
happily  ended,  and  if  he  had  only  known  French,  he  might  have 
exultingly  sung — 

Allez-vous  en  gens  de  la  noce. 

The  record  of  this  happy  event  would  hardly  be  complete  were 
we  to  omit- to  notice  that  it  was  made  the  occasion  of  a  remai'ka- 
ble  debut  in  the  House  of  Commons.  An  address  congratulatory 
of  the  marriage  was  moved  by  Mr.  Lyttelton,  and  the  motion  was 
seconded  by  Mr.  Pht,  subsequently  the  first  Earl  of  Chatham,  who 
then  made  his  first  speech  in  Parliament.  The  speech  made  by 
Lyttelton  was  squeaking  and  smart.  That  of  Comett  Pitt,  as  he 
was  called,  was  so  favorable  to  the  virtues  of  the  son,  and,  by  im- 
plication, so  insulting  to  the  person  of  the  father,  that  it  laid  the 
foundation  of  the  lasting  eimiity  of  George  against  Pitt; — an 
enmity  the  malevolence  of  which  was  first  manifested  by  depriving 
Pitt  of  his  cornetcy.  The  poets  were,  of  course,  as  polite  as  the 
senators,  and  epithalamia  rained  upon  the  happy  pair  in  showers 
of  highly  complimentary  and  very  indifferent  verse.  The  lines 
of  Whitehead,  the  laureate,  were  tolerably  good,  for  a  laureat,  and 
the  following  among  them  have  been  cited  "  as  containing  a  wish 
which  succeeding  events  fully  gratified." 

Such  was  the  age,  so  calm  the  earth's  repose, 
When  Maro  sung  and  a  new  Pollio  rose. 
Oh  I  from  such  omens  may  again  succeed 
Some  glorious  youth  to  grace  the  nuptial  bed ; 
Some  future  Scipio,  good  as  well  as  great. 
Some  young  Marcellus  with  a  better  fate  : 
Some  infant  Frederick,  or  some  George,  to  grace 
The  rising  records  of  the  Brunswick  race. 

If  these  set  ringing  the  most  harmonious  of  the  echoes  which 
Parnassus  could  raise  on  the  occasion,  the  other  metrical  essays 
must  have  been  wretched  tilings  indeed.     But  the  Muse  at  that 


302 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


time  was  not  a  refined  muse.    If  a  laureate  would  only  find  rhymo 
— decency  and  logic  were  gladly  dispensed  with. 

The  prince  was  yery  zealous  and  painstidcing  in  introducing  his 
bride  to  the  people.  For  this  puri)ose  they  were  oflen  together  at 
the  theatre.  On  one  of  these  occasions,  the  princess  must  have 
had  but  an  indifferent  idea  of  the  civilization  of  the  people  over 
whom  she  fairly  expected  one  day  to  reign  as  queen-consort.  The 
occasion  alluded  to  was  on  the  third  of  JNIay,  173G,  when  great 
numbers  of  footmen  assembled,  with  weapons,  iu  a  tumultuous 
manner,  broke  open  the  doors  of  Drury  Lane  Theatre,  and  fighting 
their  way  to  the  stage  doors,  which  they  forced  open,  they  pre° 
vented  the  Riot  Act  being  read  by  Colonel  De  Veal,  who  never- 
theless arrested  some  of  the  ringleaders,  and  committed  them  to 
Newgate.  In  this  tumult,  founded  on  an  imaginary  grievance  that 
the  footmen  had  been  illegally  excluded  from  the  gallery,  to  which 
they  claimed  to  go  gratis,  many  persons  were  severely  wounded, 
and  the  terrified  audience  hastily  separated ;  the  prince  and  prin- 
cess, with  a  large  number  of  i)ersons  of  distinction,  retiring  when 
the  tumult  was  at  its  highest.  The  Princess  of  Wales  had  never 
witnessed  a  popular  tumult  before,  and  though  this  was  ridiculous 
in  character,  it  was  serious  enough  of  aspect  to  disgust  her  with 
that  part  of '*the  majesty  of  the  people"  which  was  covered  with 
plush. 

The  king,  in  spite  of  Sir  Robert  Walpole's  threat,  proceeded  to 
Hanover  in  the  month  of  May.  Before  he  quitted  England  he 
sent  word  to  his  son  that,  wherever  the  Queen  Regent  resided, 
there  would  be  apartments  for  the  Prince  and  Princess  of  Wales. 
Frederick  looked  upon  this  measure  in  its  true  light,  namely,  a? 
making  him  a  sort  of  prisoner,  and  preventing  the  possibilitv  of 
two  separate  courts,  in  the  king's  absence.  The  prince  determined 
to  disobey  his  father  and  thwart  his  mother.  When  the  queen 
removed  from  one  residence  to  another,  he  feigned  i)reparations  to 
follow  her,  and  then  feigned  obstructions  to  them.  He  i)leaded  an 
illness  of  the  prmcess  which  did  not  exist,  and  was  surprised  that 
his  medical  men  declined  to  back  up  his  lie  by  another  of  their 
own.  The  queen  on  her  side,  feigning  anxious  interest  in  her 
daughter-in-law,  visited  her  in  her  imaginary  illness,  but  the  pa- 


CAROLIXE  WILHELMINA  DOROTHEA. 


303 


tient,  who  was  first  said  to  be  suffering  from  measles,  then  from  a 
rash,  and  finally  was  declared  to  be  really  indisposed  with  a  cold, 
was  kept  in  a  darkened  room,  and  was  otherwise  so  trained  to  de- 
ceive, that  Caroline  left  the  bed-side  as  wise  as  when  she  went  to 
it.  In  this  conduct  towards  his  mother,  Frederick  was  chiefly  in- 
fluenced by  his  ill-humor  at  the  queen's  being  appointed  regent 
When  she  opened  the  commission  at  Kensington,  which  she  always 
did  as  soon  as  she  received  intelligence  of  the  landing  of  the  king 
in  Holland,  Frederick  would  not  attend  the  council,  but  contrived 
to  reach  the  palace  just  after  the  members  had  concluded  their 
business. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


AT  nOME  AND  OVER  THE  WATER. 

TnouGH  the  king  delegated  all  royal  power  to  the  queen,  as 
regent,  during  his  absence,  he  illegally  (ignorant,  perhaps,  that  the 
royal  prerogative  was  not  divisible),*  exercised  his  kingly  office 
when  in  Hanover,  by  signing  commissions  for  officers.  The  queen 
would  not  consent  that  objection  should  be  taken  to  this  course  fol- 
lowed by  her  husband,  or  that  any  representation  should  be  made 
to  him  on  the  subject.  Such  acts,  indeed,  did  not  interfere  with 
her  great  power  as  regent — a  power  which  she  wielded  in  union 
with  Walpole.  These  two  persons  govenied  the  kingdom  accord- 
ing to  their  own  councils,  but  the  minister,  nevertheless,  placed 
every  conclusion  at  which  he  and  the  queen  had  arrived,  before 
the  cabinet  council,  by  the  obsequious  members  of  which,  the  con- 
clusions, whatever  they  were,  were  sanctioned,  and  the  necessary 
documents  signed.  Thus  Walpole,  by  the  side  of  the  queen,  acted 
as  independently  as  if  he  had  been  king ;  but  of  his  acts  he  man- 
aged to  make  the  cabinet  share  with  him  the  responsibility. 

The  office  exercised  by  her  was  very  far  from  being  a  sinecure, 
or  exempt  from  great  anxieties ;  but  it  was  hardly  more  onerous 

*  There  is  some  doubt,  however,  upon  this  maUer. 


804 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEEXS  OF  ENGLA.ND. 


than  that  which  she  exercised  dunng  the  king's  residence  in  Eng- 
land. Her  cliief  troubles,  she  was  wont  to  say,  were  derived  from 
the  bishops. 

If  Caroline  could  not  speak  so  harshly  of  the  prelates,  generally 
or  individually,  as  her  husband,  she  could  reprove  them,  when  oc- 
casion offered,  with  singular  asperity.     We  may  see  an  instance 
of  this  in  the  case  of  the  episcopal  opposition  to  the  Mortmain  and 
Quakers'  Relief  Bills  ;  but  especially  to  the  latter.     This  particu- 
lar bill  had  for  its  object  to  render  more  easy  the  recovery  of  tithes 
from  quakers ;  the  latter  did  not  ask  for  exemption,  but  for  less 
oppression  in  the  method  of  levying.     The  court  wished  that  the 
bill  should  pass  into  law.      Sherlock,  now  Bishop  of  Salisbury', 
wrote  a  pamphlet  against  it ;  and  the  prelates  generally,  led  by 
Gibson,  Bishop  of  London,  stirred  up  all  the  dioceses  in  the  king- 
dom to  oppose  it,  with  a  cry  of  The  Church  in  danger.    Sir  Robert 
Walpole  represented  to  the  queen  that  all  the  bishops  were  blama- 
ble ;  but  that  the  chief  blame  rested  upon  Sherlock,  whose  oppo- 
sition was  described  as  being  as  little  to  be  justified  in  jwint  of 
understanding   mid   [)olicy,  as   in   integrity   and   gratitude.      Sir 
Robert  declared,  that  he  was  at  once  the  dupe  and  the  willing 
follower  of  the  Bishop  of  London,  and  that  both  were  guilty  of 
endeavoring  to  disturb  the  quiet  of  the  kingdom. 

The  first  time  Dr.  Sherlock  appeared  at  court  after  this,  the 
queen  chid  him  extremely,  and  asked  him  if  he  was  not  fu^hamed 
to  be  overreached  in  this  manner  by  the  Bishop  of  London.  She 
accused  him  of  being  a  second  time  the  dupe  of  the  latter  prelate, 
who  was  charged  with  having  misled  him  in  a  matter  conceniing 
the  advancement  of  Dr.  Rundle  to  an  episcopal  see.  "  How,"  she 
asked  him,  -  could  he  be  blind  and  weak  enough  to  be  running  his 
nose  into  another's  dirt  again."  As  for  the  king,  he  spoke  of'^  the 
prelates  on  this  occasion  '•  with  his  usual  softness."  They  were, 
according  to  the  hereditary  defender  of  the  faith,  « a  parcel  of 
black,  canting,  hypocritical  ra.«cals."  They  were  "silly,"  "  imper- 
tinent "  fellows,  presuming  to  dictate  to  the  crown ;  as  if  it  were 
not  the  express  duty  of  a  bishop  to  exercise  this  boldness  when 
emergency  warranted,  and  occasion  suited. 

Both  bills  were  passed  in  the  Commons.     The  Mortmain  Bill 


CAROLINE   WILHELMIXA    DOROTHEA. 


305 


(to  prevent  the  further  alienation  of  lands  by  will  in  mortmain) 
passed  the  Lords  ;  but  the  Quakers'  Relief  Bill  was  lost  there  by 
a  majority  of  two. 

The  queen  was  far  from  desiring  that  the  bishops  should  be  so 
treated  as  to  make  them  in  settled  antagonism  with  the  crown. 
She  one  day  ventured  to  say  something  in  this  spirit  to  the  king. 
It  was  at  a  time  when  he  was  peevishly  impatient  to  get  away  to 
Hanover,  to  the  society  of  Madame  AValmoden,  and  to  the  young 
son  bora  there  since  his  departure.  He  is  reported  to  have  ex- 
claimed to  Caroline,  when  she  was  gently  urging  a  more  courteous 
treatment  of  the  bishops,—"  I  am  sick  to  death  of  all  this  foolish 
stuff,  and  wish,  with  all  my  heart,  that  the  devil  may  take  all  your 
bishops,  and  the  devil  take  your  minister,  and  the  devil  take  the 
parliament,  and  the  devil  take  the  whole  island,  provided  I  can  get 
out  of  it,  and  go  to  Hanover."  * 

What  Caroline  meant  by  moderation  of  behavior  towards  the 
bishops,  it  is  hard  to  understand;  for  when  Drs.  Sherlock  and 
Hare  complained  to  her  that,  in  spite  of  their  loyalty  to  the  crown 
they  were  nightly  treated  with  great  coarseness  and  indignity  by 
lords  closely  connected  with  the  court,  Caroline  spoke  immediately, 
in  the  harsh  tone  and  strong  terms  ordinarily  employed  by  her 
consort,  and  said,  that  she  could  more  easily  excuse  Lord  Hervey, 
who  was  chiefly  complain<.'d  of  as  speaking  sharply  against  them  in 
parliament, — ''  I  can  easier  excuse  him,"  exclaimed  her  majesty, 
"  for  throwing  some  of  the  Bishop  of  London's  dirt  upon  you,  than 
I  can  excuse  all  you  other  fools  (who  love  the  Bishop  of  London 
no  better  than  he  does,)  for  taking  the  Bishop  of  London's  dirt 
upon  yourselves."  She  claimed  a  right  to  chide  the  prelates 
soundly,  upon  the  ground  that  she  loved  them  deeply — and  she 
made  very  liberal  use  of  the  privilege  she  claimed.  Bishop  Hare, 
in  replying,  called  Lord  Hinton,  one  of  Lord  Hervey 's  imitators, 
his  "  ape."  The  queen  told  this  to  Lord  Hervey,  who  answered, 
that  his  ape,  if  he  came  to  know  that  such  term  had  been  applied 
to  him,  would  certainly  knock  down  the  queen's  "  baboon."  Caro- 
line, with  a  childish  spirit  of  mischief,  communicated  to  Hare  what 


*  Lord  Hervey. 


306 


LIVES  OP  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


CAROLINE  WILHELMINA  DOROTHEA. 


307 


she  had  done,  and  what  her  vice-chancellor  had  said  upon  it.     The 
terrified  prelate  immediately  broke  the  third  commandment,  ex- 
claiming, **  Good  God !  madam,   what  have  you    done  ?     As  for 
Lord  Hervey,  he  will  satisfy  himself,  perhaps,  with  playing  his  wit 
off  upon  me,  and  calling  me  Old  Baboon;  but,  for  my  Lord  Ilin- 
ton,  who  has  no  wit,  he  will  knock  me  down."     This  talUed  so 
ridiculously,  we  are  told  by  the  vice-chamberlain,  who  rejx)rts  the 
scene,  with  the  information  given  him  by  Caroline  herself, — "This 
tallied  so  ridiculously  with  what  Lord  Ilervey  had  said  to  the 
queen,  that  she  burst  into  a  fit  of  laughter,  which  lasted  some  mi- 
nutes before  she  could  speak ;  and  then  she  told  the  bishop,  *  That 
is  just,  my  good  lord,  what  Lord  Ilervey  difl  do,  and  what  he  said 
the  ape  would  do.'  "     The  queen,  however,  promised  that  no  harm 
should  come  to  the  prelate. 

No  inconsiderable  amount  of  hann,  however,  was  inflicted  on 
many  of  the  prelates,  including  Hare  himself.     Walpole  was  dis- 
posed to  translate  him,  when  an  advantageous  opportunity  offered; 
but  Hervey  showed  him  good  reason  for  preferring  pliant  Potter, 
then  of  Oxford.     Gibson,  the  Bishop  of  London,  had  been  looking 
to  be  removed  to  Canterbury,  whenever  Dr.  Wake's  death  there 
should  cause  a  vacancy.     He  expected,  however,  that,  in  accord- 
ance with  his  wish,  Sherlock  should  succeed  him  in  London.     The 
queen  was  disposed  to  sanction  the  arrangement ;  but  she  was 
frightened  out  of  it  by  Walpole  and   Ilervey.     She  accordingly 
advised  Sherlock  **  to  go  down  to  his  diocese,  and  live  quietly ;  to 
let  the  spirit  he  had  raised  so  foolishly  against  him  here  subside ; 
and  to  reproach  himself  only  if  he  had   failed,  or  should  fail,  of 
what  he  wished  should  be  done,  and  she  had  wished  to  do  for  him." 
During  the  absence  of  the  king  in  173G,  in  Hanover,  the  Queen 
Regent  had  but  an  uneasy  time  of  it  at  home.     First,  there  were 
com  riots  in  the  west,  which  were  caused  by  the  attempts  of  the 
people  to  prevent  the  ex|,ortation  of  corn,  and  which  could  only 
be  suppressed  by  aid  of  the  military.     Next,  there  were  labor  riots 
in  the  metropolis  in  consequence  of  the  market  being  overstocked 
by  Irislu  laborers,  who  offered  to  work  at  lower  rates  than  the  Eng- 
lish ;  and  which   also  the    bayonet  alone  was  able   to   suppress. 
Thiixlly,  the  coasts  were  infested  by  smugglers,  whom  the  prospect 


of  the  hangman  could  not  deter  from  their  exciting  vocation,  and 
who  not  only  killed  revenue  officers  in  very  pretty  battles,  but  were 
heartily  assisted  by  the  country  people,  who  looked  upon  the  con- 
trabandists as  most  gallant  and  useful  gentlemen.  Much  sedition 
was  mixed  up  with  the  confusion  which  arose  from  these  tumultu- 
ary proceedings ;  for  whenever  the  people  were  opposed  in  their 
inclinations,  they  immediately  took  to  cursing  the  queen  especially, 
not,  however,  sparing  the  king :  nor  forgetting,  in  their  street  ova- 
tions, to  invoke  blessings  ujKjn  James  IH.  It  was,  indeed,  the 
fashion  for  every  aggrieved  person  to  speak  of  George  11.  in  his 
character  of  Elector  of  Hanover,  as  "  a  foreign  prince."  When 
this  was  done  by  a  nonjuring  clerg}'man  named  Dixon,  who  ex- 
ploded an  innocent  infernal  machine  in  Westminster  Hall,  to  the 
great  terror  of  judges  and  lawyers,  and  which  scattered  papers 
over  the  hall,  denouncing  various  acts  of  parliament,  first  that 
against  the  sale  of  gin  in  unlicensed  places :  then  the  act  for  build- 
ing Westminster  Bridge ;  the  one  to  suppress  smuggling ;  and  that 
which  enabled  "a  foreign  prince"  to  borrow  600,000/.  of  money 
sacredly  appropriated  to  the  payment  of  our  debts, — the  lord  chan- 
cellor and  the  chief  justice  were  so  affrighted,  that  they  called  the 
escapade  "  a  treason."  Caroline  summoned  a  council  thereon,  and 
having  at  last  secured  the  half-mad  and  destitute  offender,  they 
consigned  him  to  rot  in  a  jail ;  although,  as  Lord  Hervey  says, 
"  the  lawyers  should  have  sent  him  to  Bedlam,  and  would  have 
sent  him  to  Tyburn." 

The  popular  fury  was  sometimes  so  excited,  that  it  was  found 
necessary,  as  in  the  Michaelmas  of  this  year,  to  double  the  guards 
who  had  the  care  of  her  sacred  majesty  at  Kensington.  The  popu- 
lace had  detennined  upon  being  drunk  when,  where,  and  how  they 
liked.  The  government  had  resolved  that  they  should  not  get 
drunk  upon  gin  at  any  but  licensed  places ;  and  thereupon  the  ma- 
jesty of  the  'people  became  so  furious,  that  even  the  person  of  Ca- 
roline was  hardly  considered  safe  in  her  own  palace. 

Nor  were  riots  confined  only  to  England.  A  formidable  one 
broke  out  in  Edinburgh, — based  upon  admiration  for  a  smuggler 
named  Wilson,  who  had  very  cleverly  robbed  a  revenue  officer,  as 
well  as  defrauded  the  revenue.     The  mob  thought  it  hard  that  the 


r 


% 


308 


LIVES  OP  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


poor  fellow  should  be  hanged,  as  he  was,  for  such  little  foibles  as 
these ;  and  though  they  could  not  I'cscue  him  from  the  gallows, 
they  raised  a  desperate  tumult  as  he  was  swung  from  it.  The 
town  guard  fired  upon  the  rioters,  by  order  of  their  captain,  Por- 
teous,  and  several  individuids  were  slain.  The  captain  was  tried 
for  this  alleged  unlawful  slaying,  and  was  condemned  to  die ;  but 
Caroline,  who  admired  promptness  of  ciiaracter,  stayed  the  execu- 
tion by  sending  down  a  reprieve.  The  result  is  well  known ;  the 
mob  broke  open  the  prison  and  inflicted  Lynch  law  upon  the  cap- 
tarn,  hanging  him  in  the  market-place,  amid  a  shower  of  curses  and 
jeers  against  Caroline  and  her  reprieve. 

The  indignation  of  the  Queen  Regent  was  almost  incontroUable. 
She  was  especially  indignmit  against  General  Moyle,  commander 
of  the  troops,  who  had  refused  to  interfere  to  suppress  the  riot. 
He  was  tolerably  well  justified  in  his  refusal ;  for  the  magistrates 
of  Edinburgh,  ever  ready  to  invoke  assistance,  were  given  to  betray 
them  who  rendered  it,  to  the  gallows,  if  the  riot  was  suppressed  by 
shedding  the  blood  of  the  rioters.     His  conduct  on  this  occasion 
was  furtlier   regulated  by   orders  from    his    commander-in-chief. 
Caroline  had  no  regard  for  any  of  the  considerations  which  gov- 
erned the  discreet  general,  and  in  the  vexation  of  her  chafed  spirit, 
she  declared  that  Moyle  deserved  to  be  shot  by  oi*der  of  a  court- 
martial.     It  was  with  great  difiicuhy  that  her  ministers  and  friends 
succeeded  in  softening  the  asperity  of  her  temper ;  even  Sir  Robert 
"VValpole,  who  joined  in  representing  that  it  were  better  to  hold 
Moyle  harmless,  maintained  in  private  that  the  general  was  fool, 
knave,  or  coward.     Lord  Hervey  says  that  the  queen  resented  the 
conduct  of  the  Scotch  on  this  occjision,  as  showing  **  a  tendency  to 
shake  off  all  government ;  and  I  believe  Avas  a  little  more  irritated, 
from  considering  it  in  some  degree  as  a  pei-sonal  afiVont  to  her,  who 
had  sent  Captain  Porteous*s  reprieve ;  and  had  she  been  told  half 
what  was  reported  to  have  been  said  of  her  by  the  Scotch  mob  on 
tliis  occasion,  no  one  could  think  that  she  had  not  ample  cause  to 
be  provoked." 

To  return  to  the  domestic  affairs  of  Caroline  ;  it  is  to  be  observed 
thai  the  queen  had  not  seen  the  king  leave  England,  with  indiffer- 
ence.    She  was  aware  that  he  was  chiefly  attracted  to  Hanover  by 


CAROLINE  WILHELMINA  DOROTHEA. 


309 


the  unblushing  rival  who,  on  his  departure  thence,  had  drank,  amid 
smiles  and  tears,  to  his  speedy  return.  His  departure,  therefore, 
something  affected  her  proud  spirit,  and  she  was  for  a  season  de- 
pressed. But  business  acted  upon  her  as  a  tonic,  and  she  was 
occupied  and  happy,  yet  not  without  her  hours  of  trial  and  vexation, 
until  the  time  approached  for  the  king's  return. 

Bitter,  however,  were  her  feelings,  when  she  found  that  return 
protracted  beyond  the  usual  period.  For  the  king  to  be  absent  on 
his  birthday  was  a  most  unusual  occurrence,  and  Caroline  felt  that 
the  rival  must  have  some  power  indeed  who  could  thus  restrain  him 
from  indulgence  in  old  habits.  She  was  however,  as  proud  as  she 
was  pained.  She  began  to  grow  cool  in  her  ceremony  and  atten- 
tions to  the  king.  She  abridged  the  ordinary  length  of  her  letters 
to  him,  and  the  usual  four  dozen  pages  were  shortened  into  some 
seven  or  eight.  Her  immediate  friends,  who  were  aware  of  this 
circumstance,  saw  at  once  that  her  well-known  judgment  and  pru- 
dence were  now  in  default.  They  knew  that  to  attempt  to  insinuate 
reproach  to  the  king  would  arouse  his  anger,  and  not  awaken  his 
sleeping  tenderness.  They  feared  lest  her  power  over  him  should 
become  altogether  extinct,  and  that  his  majesty  would  soon  as  little 
regard  his  wife  by  force  of  habit  as  he  had  long  ceased  to  do  by 
readiness  of  inclination.  It  was  Walpole's  conviction  that  the  king's 
respect  for  her  was  too  firmly  based  to  be  ever  shaken.  Faithless 
himself,  he  reverenced  the  fidelity  and  sincerity  which  he  knew 
were  in  her ;  and  if  she  could  not  rule  by  the  heart,  it  was  certain 
that  she  might  still  continue  supreme  by  the  head — by  her  superior 
intellect.  Still,  the  minister  recognized  the  delicacy  and  the  danger 
of  the  moment,  and  in  an  inter\-iew  with  Caroline,  he  made  it  the 
subject  of  as  extraordinary  a  discussion  as  was  ever  held  between 
minister  and  royal  mistress — between  man  and  woman.  Walpole 
reminded  her  of  faded  charms  and  growing  years,  and  he  expatiated 
on  the  impossibility  of  her  ever  being  able  to  establish  su- 
premacy in  the  king's  regard  by  power  of  her  personal  attractions ! 
It  is  a  trait  of  her  character  worth  noticing,  that  she  listened  to 
these  unwelcome,  but  almost  unwarranatbly  expressed  truths,  with 
immovable  patience.  But  Waljwle  did  not  stop  here.  He  urged 
her  to  resume  her  long  letters  to  the  king,  and  to  address  him  in 


810 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


terms  of  humility,  submissiveness,  duty,  and  tender  affection ;  and 
he  set  the  climax  on  what  one  might  almost  be  authorized  to  con- 
sider his  impudence,  by  recommending  her  to  invite  the  king  to 
bring  Madame  Walmoden  with  him  to  England.  At  this  counsel, 
the  tears  did  spring  into  the  eyes  of  Caroline.  The  softened  feeling, 
however,  only  maintained  itself  for  a  moment.  It  was  soon  forgotten 
in  her  desire  to  recover  or  retain  her  power.  She  promised  to 
obey  the  minister  in  all  he  had  enjoined  upon  her ;  but  Walpole, 
well  as  he  knew  her,  very  excusably  conjectured  that  there  must 
still  be  enough  of  the  mere  woman  in  her,  to  induce  her  to  refuse 
to  perfonn  what  she  had  promised  to  accomplish.  He  was,  how- 
ever, mistaken.  It  is  true,  indeed,  that  her  heart  recoiled  at  what 
the  head  had  resolved,  but  she  maintained  her  resolution.  She 
conversed  calmly  with  Walpole  on  the  best  means  of  carrying  it 
out.  But  the  minister  put  no  tnist  in  her  assertions  until  such  a 
letter  as  he  had  recommended  had  actually  been  dispatched  by  her 
to  the  king.  She  rallied  \Val|K)le  on  his  doubts  of  her,  but  praised 
him  for  his  abominable  counsel.  It  was  this  commendation  which 
alarmed  him.  He  could  believe  in  her  reproof;  but  he  affirmed 
that  he  was  always  afraid  when  Caroline  "  daubed,**  However,  he 
was  now  obliged  to  believe,  for  the  queen  spoke  calmly  of  the 
coming  of  her  rival,  allotted  rooms  for  her  reception,  devised  plans 
and  projects  for  rendering  her  comfortable,  and  even  expressed  her 
willingness  to  take  he^  into  her  own  service  !  Walpole  opposed 
this,  but  she  cited  the  case  of  Lady  Suffolk.  Upon  which  the  min- 
ister observed,  with  infinite  moral  discrimination,  that  there  was  a 
difference  between  the  king's  making  a  mistress  of  the  queen's 
servant,  and  making  a  queen's  servant  of  his  mistress.  The  people 
might  reasonably  look  upon  the  first  as  a  very  natural  condition  of 
things,  while  the  popular  virtue  might  feel  itself  outraged  at  the 
second.  Caroline  said  nothing,  but  wrote  certainly  the  most  sin- 
gular letter  that  ever  wife  wrote  to  a  husband.  It  was  replied  to 
by  a  letter  also  the  most  singular  that  ever  husband  addressed  to  a 
wife.  *     The  king's  epistle  was  full  of  admiration  at  his  consort's 

*  Copies  of  the  original  letters  in  French,  will  be  found  in  Lord  Hervey's 
admirable  volumes. 


CAROLINE  WILHELMINA  DOROTHEA. 


811 


as  virtuous  as  she  !  "  But,''  wrote  he,  in  very  elegant  French,  in 
which  dirty  passipn  was  hidden  beneath  very  refined  sentiment ; 
"  But  you  know  my  passions,  my  dear  Caroline  ;  you  know  my 
weaknesses  ;  there  is  nothing  in  my  heart  hidden  from  you;  and 
would  to  God,"  exclaimed  the  mendacious,  blaspheming  libertine, 
"  would  to  God  that  you  could  correct  me  with  the  same  facility 
with  which  you  apprehend  me.  Would  to  God  that  I  could  imitate 
you  as  well  as  I  admire  you,  and  that  I  could  learn  of  you  all  the 
virtues  which  you  make  me  see,  feel,  and  love." 

The  figure  of  Louis  XL,  kneeling  before  the  Virgin,  and  asking 
permission  to  sin  once  more,  upon  proper  compensation,  is  dignified 
compared  with  this  matter-of-fact  husband  who  affects  to  revere  the 
virtues  which  he  cannot  imitate,  and  who  pleads,  to  his  own  wife, 
the  strength  of  his  unlicensed  passions,  which  prompt  him  to  an 
infidelity  which  she,  on  her  side,  is  too  prompt  to  further  and  to 
pardon.  Some  centuries  more  must  elapse  before  a  scene  like  this 
can  seem  to  wear  about  it  a  halo  of  historical  dignity.  But  centu- 
ries will  not  hide  the  fact  that  on  this  occasion,  in  the  weakness  of 
Caroline,  there  was  an  infamy  as  stupendous  as  that  in  the  vice  of 
her  most  worthless  husband. 

The  queen  then  had  not  only  to  look  after  the  affairs  of  the 
kingdom  in  the  monarch's  absence,  but  to  assist  him  with  her  ad- 
vice for  the  better  management  of  his  love  affairs  in  Hanover. 
With  all  Madame  Walmoden's  affected  fidelity  towards  him,  he  had 
good  grounds  for  suspecting  that  his  interest  in  her  was  shared  by 
less  noble  rivals.  The  senile  dupe  was  perplexed  in  the  extreme. 
One  rival  named  as  being  on  too  fiimiliar  terms  with  the  lady,  was 
a  Captain  von  Schulemberg,  a  relation  of  the  Duchess  of  Kendal. 
There  was  a  little  drama  enacted  by  all  three  parties,  as  complica- 
ted as  a  Spanish  comedy,  and  full  of  love-passages,  rope-ladders, 
and  lying.  The  closing  scene  exhibits  the  lady  indignant  in  assert- 
ing her  innocence,  and  the  wretched  monarch  too  happy  to  put 
faith  in  her  assertions.  When  left  alone,  however,  he  addressed  a 
letter  to  his  wife,  asking  her  what  she  thought  of  the  matter,  and 
amiable  conduct,  and  of  descriptions  of  her  rival's  bodily  and  mental 
features.  He  extolled  the  virtues  of  his  wife,  and  then  expressed 
a  wish — the  wretched  little  debauched  hypocrite — that  he  could  be 


812 


LIVES  OF  THE    QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


requesting  her  to  consult  Walpole,  as  a  man  "  who  has  more  expe- 
rience in  these  sort  of  matters,  my  dear  Caroline,  than  yourself, 
and  who  in  the  present  affair  must  necessarily  be  less  prejudiced 
than  I  am!"  There  never  was  an  epithet  of  obloquy  which  this 
miserable  fellow  flung  at  his  fellow-men,  which  might  not  have 
been  more  appropriately  applied  to  himself. 

Caroline,  doubtless,  gave  the  counsel  that  was  expected  from 
her;  and  then,  having  settled  to  the  best  of  her  ability  this  very 
delicate  affiiir,  she  was  called  upon  to  interfere  in  a  matter  more 
serious.  The  young  Princess  of  Wales  had  scandalized  the  whole 
royal  family  by  taking  the  sacrament  at  the  German  Lutheran 
chapel.  Serious  remonstrance  was  made  to  her  on  the  subject ; 
but  the  young  lady  shed  tears,  and  pleaded  her  conscience.  Reli- 
gious liberty,  however,  was  not  a  thing  to  be  thought  of,  and  she 
must  take  the  sacrament  according  to  the  forms  prescribed  by  the 
Church  of  J:ngland.  She  resisted  the  compulsion,  until  it  was 
intimated  to  her  that  if  she  persisted  in  the  course  on  which  she 
had  entered,  there  was  a  possibility  that  she  might  be  sent  back  to 
Saxe-Gotha,  Upon  that  hint  she  at  once  joined  the  Church  of 
Enf^land.  Slie  had  no  more  hesitation  than  a  Lutheran  or 
Catholic  German  princess,  who  marries  into  the  Czar*s  family, 
has  of  at  once  accepting  all  which  the  Greek  Church  enjoins,  and 
which  the  lady  neither  cares  for  nor  comprehends. 

Nor  was  this  the  only  church  matter  connected  with  the  princess^ 
which  gave  trouble  to  the  queen.  The  case  of  conscience  was 
followed  by  a  case  of  courtesy,  or  rather  perhaps  of  the  want  of  it. 
The  queen  attended  divine  service  regularly  in  the  chapel  in 
Kensington  Palace,  and  set  a  good  example  of  being  early  in  her 
attendance,  which  was  not  followed  by  the  Prince  and  Princess  of 
Wales,  when  they  also  were  in  residence  at  the  palace.  It  was 
the  bad  habit  of  the  latter,  doubtless  at  the  instigation  of  her  hus- 
band, not  to  enter  the  chapel  till  after  the  service  had  commenced, 
and  the  queen  was  engaged  in  her  devotions.  The  princess  had 
then,  in  order  to  get  to  the  seat  allotted  to  her,  to  pass  by  the 
queen — a  large  woman  in  a  small  pew !  The  scene  was  unbe- 
coming in  the  extreme,  for  the  princess  passed  in  front  of  her 
majesty,  between  her  and  the  prayer-book,  and  there  was  much 


CAROLINE    WILHELMINA    DOKOTHEA. 


313 


confusion  and  unseemliness  in  consequence.  When  this  had  been 
repeated  a  few  times,  the  queen  ordered  Sir  William  Toby,  the 
princess's  chamberlain,  to  introduce  his  royal  mistress  by  another 
door  than  that  by  which  the  queen  entered,  whereby  her  royal 
highness  might  pass  to  her  place  without  indecorously  incom- 
moding her  majesty.  The  prince  would  not  allow  this  to  be  done, 
and  he  only  so  far  compromised  the  matter,  by  ordering  the 
princess,  whenever  she  found  the  queen  at  chapel  before  herself, 
not  to  enter  at  all,  but  to  return  to  the  palace. 

Caroline,  offended  as  she  was  with  her  son,  would  not  allow 
him  to  pretend  that  she  was  as  difficult  to  live  with  as  his  father, 
and  so  concealed  her  anger.  Lord  Hervey  so  well  knew  that  the 
prince  wished  to  render  the  queen  unpopular,  that  he  counselled 
his  royal  mistress  not  to  let  her  son  enjoy  a  grievance  that  he 
could  trade  upon.  Lord  Hervey  said,  "  he  could  wish  that  if  the 
prince  was  to  sit  down  in  her  lap,  that  she  would  only  say,  she 
hoped  he  found  it  easy." 

For  the  princess,  the  queen  had  nothing  but  a  feeling  which 
partook  mostly  of  a  compassionate  regard.  She  knew  her  to  be 
really  harmless,  and  thought  her  very  dull  company ;  which  for  a 
woman  of  Caroline's  intellect  and  power  of  conversation,  she  un- 
doubtedly was.  The  woman  of  cultivated  mind  yawned  wearily  at 
the  truisms  of  the  common-place  young  lady,  and  made  an  assertion 
with  respect  to  her  which  bespoke  a  mind  more  coarse  than  cul- 
tivated. "  Poor  creature,"  said  Caroline,  of  her  young  daughter- 
in-law,  "were  she  to  spit  in  my  face,  I  should  only  pity  her 
for  being  under  such  a  fool's  direction,  and  wipe  it  off."  The 
fool,  of  course,  was  the  speaker's  son.  The  young  wife,  it  must 
be  confessed,  was  something  childish  in  her  ways.  Nothing 
pleased  her  better  than  to  play  half  through  the  day  with  a 
large,  jointed  doll.  This  she  would  dress  and  undress,  and 
nurse  and  fondle  at  the  windows  of  Kensington  Palace,  to  the 
amusement  and  wonder,  rather  than  to  the  edification,  of  the 
servants  in  the  palace  and  the  sentinels  beneath  the  windows. 
The  Princess  Caroline  almost  forgot  her  gentle  character  in 
chiding  her  sister-in-law,  and  desiring  her  "  not  to  stand  at  the 

window  during  these  operations  on   her  baby."     The   Princess 
Vol.  I.— li 


814 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


Caroline  did  not  found  her  reproach  upon  the  impropriety  of  the 
action,  but  upon  that  of  allowing  it  to  be  witnessed  by  others. 
The  lower  people,  she  said,  thought  everything  ridiculous  tliat 
was  not  customary',  and  the  thing  would  draw  a  mob  about  her, 
and  make  la  canaille  talk  disagreeably ! 

The  act  showed  the  childishness  of  her  character  at  that  time ; 
a  childishness  on  which  her  husband  improved  by  getting  her  to 
apply,  through  the  queen,  for  the  king's  consent  to  allow  her  to 
place  Lady  Archibald  Hamilton  upon  her  household.  Frederick 
informed  his  young  wife  of  the  position  in  which  the  world  said 
the  lady  stood  with  regard  to  him ;  but  he  assured  her  that  it  was 
all  false.  Augusta  believed,  or  affected  to  believe,  or  was  perhaps 
indifferent ;  and  Lady  Archibald  was  made  lady  of  the  bed- 
chamber, privy  purse,  and  mistress  of  the  robes  to  the  princess, 
with  a  salary  of  nine  hundred  pounds  a-year. 

While  the  ladies  of  the  court  discussed  the  subject  of  the  king, 
his  wife,  his  favorite,  and  the  favorite  of  the  prince,  and  seriously 
canvassed  the  expediency  of  bringing  Madame  Walmoden  to  Eng- 
land, there  were  some  who  entertained  an  idea  that  it  would  be 
weHif  the  sovereign  himself  could  be  kept  out  of  it.  The  people 
took  to  commiserating  Caroline,  and  there  were  many  who  cen- 
sured her  husband  for  his  infidelity,  while  others  only  reproved 
him  because  that  faithlessness  was  made  profitable  to  foreigners  and 
not  to  fairer  frailty  at  home.  In  the  meantime,  his  double  taste 
'for  his  electorate  and  the  ladies  there,  was  caricatured  in  various 
ways.  Pasquinades  intimated  that  his  Hanoverian  majesty  would 
condescend  to  visit  his  British  dominions  at  a  future  stated  period. 
A  lame,  blind,  and  aged  horse,  with  a  saddle,  a  pillion  behind  it, 
was  sent  to  wander  through  the  streets,  with  an  inscription  on  his 
forehead,  which  begged  that  nobody  would  stop  him,  as  he  was 
"the  king's  Hanoverian  equipage,  going  to  fetch  his  majesty  and 


his 


to  Enjrland.' 


The  most  stinging  satire  of  all  was 


boldly  affixed  to  the  walls  of  St.  James's  Palace,  and  was  to  this 
effect :  "  Lost  or  strayed,  out  of  this  house,  a  man  who  has  lefl  a 
wife  and  six  children  on  the  parish.  Whoever  will  give  any 
tidings  of  him  to  the  churchwardens  of  St.  James's  parish,  so  as 
he  may  be  got  again,  shall  receive  four  shillings  and  sixpence 


CAROLINE  WILHELMINA    DOROTHEA. 


815 


reward.     N.B.  This  reward  will  not  be  increased,  nobody  judging 
him  to  deserve  a  crown." 

The  king  himself  was  rather  gratified  than  otherwise  with 
satires  which  imputed  to  him  a  gallantry  (as  it  is  erroneously 
called)  of  disposition.  He  was  only  vexed  when  censure  was 
gravely  directed  against  him,  w^hich  had  reference  to  the  incom- 
patibility of  his  pui*suits  with  his  position,  his  age,  and  his  infir- 
mities. He  preferred  being  reproved  as  a  profligate,  rather  than 
being  considered  past  the  period  when  profligacy  would  be  venial. 

Previous  to  his  return  to  England,  he  expressed  a  wish  to  the 
queen  that  she  would  remove  from  Kensington  to  St.  James's,  on 
the  ground  that  it  would  be  better  for  her  health,  and  she  would 
be  easier  of  access  to  the  ministers.  The  road  between  London 
and  the  suburban  locality  which  may  now  be  said  to  be  a  part  of 
it,  was,  at  the  jxiriod  alluded  to,  in  so  wretched  a  condition,  that 
Kensington  Palace  was  more  remote  from  the  metropolis,  than  ^ 
Windsor  Castle  is  now.  Caroline  understood  her  husband  too 
well  to  obey.  She  continued,  as  regent,  to  live  in  retirement,  and 
this  affectation  of  disregard  for  the  outward  splendor  of  her  office 
Wiis  not  unfavorably  looked  upon  by  the  king. 

The  queen's  rule  of  conduct  was  not,  however,  that  which  best 
pleased  her  son.  Frederick  declared  his  intention  of  leaving  the 
suburban  palace  for  London. 

Caroline  was  vexed  at  the  announcement  of  the  supposed  author 
of  an  intention  which  amounted,  in  other  words,  to  the  setting  up 
of  a  rival  court  ;  particularly,  after  the  orders  which  had  been 
communicated  from  the  king  to  the  Prince  of  Wales,  through  the 
Duke  of  Grafton..  Frederick  wro'te  a  note  in  reply,  like  that  of 
his  mother's,  in  French,  in  which  he  intimated  his  willingness  to 
remain  at  Kensington  as  long  as  the  Queen  Regent  made  it  her 
residence.  The  note  was  probably  written  for  the  Prince  by  I^rd 
Chesterfield.  Caroline  inflicted  considerable  annoyance  on  her 
son  by  refusing  to  consider  him  as  the  author  of  the  note,  which, 
by  the  way,  Lord  Her\ey  thought  might  have  been  written  by 
«  young  Pitt,"  but  certainly  not  by  Lord  Chesterfield.  The  note 
itself  is  only  quoted  from  memory  by  Lord  Heryey,  who  says  that 
Lord  Chesterfield  would  have  written  better  French,  as  well  as 


316 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


with  more  turns  and  points.  To  me  it  appears  to  closely  resemble 
the  character  of  Lord  Chesterfield's  letters  in  French,  which  were 
never  so  purely  French  but  there  could  be  detected  in  them  phrases 
which  were  mere  translations  of  English  idioms ;  and  it  was  pre- 
cisely because  of  such  a  fault  that  Caroline  had  suspected  that  the 
note  was  written  by  an  Englishman  bom.  The  question,  however, 
is  not  worth  discussion.  The  fact  remains  to  be  noticed  that,  in 
spite  of  the  promise  made  by  the  prince  to  remain  at  Kensington, 
he  really  removed  to  London,  but,  as  his  suite  was  left  in  the 
suburbs,  he  considered  that  his  pledge  was  honorably  maintained. 

Frederick's  conduct  seems  to  have  arisen  from  a  fear  which  was 
as  marked  in  him  as  it  was  in  his  father — a  fear  of  its  being  sup- 
posed that  he  was  governed  by  others.  Had  it  been  the  queen's 
interest  to  rule  him  by  letting  him  suppose  that  he  was  free  from 
the  iniluence  of  others,  she  would  have  done  it  as  readily  and  as 
easily  as  in  the  case  of  the  king.  The  queen  considered  him  so 
far  unambitious,  that  he  did  not  long  for  his  father's  death,  but 
Lord  Hervey  showed  her  that  if  he  did  not,  the  creditors  who  had 
lent  him  money,  payable  with  interest  at  the  king's  decease,  were 
less  delicate  in  this  matter ;  and  that  the  demise  of  the  king  mijrht 
be  so  profitable  to  many  as  to  make  the  monarch's  speedy  death  a 
consummation  devoutly  to  be  wished.  The  life  of  the  sovereign 
was  thus  put  in  present  peril,  and  Lord  Hervey  suggested  to  the 
queen  that  it  would  be  well  were  a  bill  brought  into  parliament, 
making  it  a  capital  offence  for  any  man  to  lend  money  for  a  pre- 
miiun  at  the  king's  death.  "  To  be  sure,"  replied  the  queen,  "  it 
ought  to  be  so,  and  pniy  talk  a  little  with  Sir  Robert  Walpole 
about  it."  Meanwhile,  Frederick  Prince  of  Wales  exhibited  a 
liberality  which  charmed  the  public  generally,  rather  than  his  cre- 
ditors in  particular,  by  forwarding  500/.  to  the  Lord  Mayor  for  the 
purpose  of  releasing  poor  freemen  of  the  City,  from  prison.  The 
act  placed  the  prince  in  strong  contrast  with  his  father,  who  had 
been  squandering  large  sums  in  Germany. 

The  king's  departure  from  Hanover  for  England  took  place  in 
the  night  of  the  7th  to  the  8th  of  December,  after  one  of  those 
brilliant  and  festive  farewell  suppers  which  were  now  given  on 
such  occasions  by  the  Circe  or  the  Cynthia  of  the  hour.     Wine 


CAROLINE  WILHELMINA  DOROTHEA. 


817 


and  tears,  no  doubt,  flowed  abundantly  ;  but,  as  soon  as  the  scene 
could  be  decently  brought  to  an  end,  the  royal  lover  departed,  and 
arrived  on  the  11th  at  Helvoetsluys.  His  daughter  Anne  was 
lying  sick,  almost  to  death,  at  the  Hague,  where  her  life  had,  with 
difficulty,  been  purchased  by  the  sacrifice  of  that  of  the  little 
daughter  she  had  borne.  The  king,  however,  had  not  leisure  for 
the  demonstration  of  any  parental*  affection,  and  he  hurried  on 
without  even  inquiring  after  the  condition  of  his  child.  ]VIatter-of- 
fact  people  are  usually  tender,  and,  if  not  tender,  courteously  decent 
people.  The  king  was  a  matter-of-fact  person  enough,  but  even  in 
this  he  acted  like  those  highly  refined  and  sentimental  persons  in 
whom  affection  is  ever  on  their  lips  and  venom  in  their  hearts. 

The  wind  was  fair,  and  all  London  was  in  expectation,  but  with- 
out eagerness,  of  seeing  once  more  their  gaillard  of  a  king,  with 
his  grave  look,  among  them.  But  the  wind  veered,  and  a  hurri- 
cane blew  from  the  west  with  such  violence,  that  every  one  con- 
cluded if  the  king  had  embarked  he  must  necessarily  have  gone 
down,  and  the  royal  convoy  of  ships  perished  with  him.  Bets 
were  laid  upon  the  event,  and  speculation  was  busy  in  every  cor- 
ner. The  excitement  was  naturally  great,  for  the  country  had 
never  been  in  such  uncertainty  about  their  monarch.  Wagers  in- 
creased. Walpole  began  to  discuss  the  prospects  of  the  royal 
family,  the  probable  conduct  of  the  possible  new  sovereign,  the 
little  regard  he  would  have  for  his  mother,  the  faithless  guardian 
he  would  be  over  his  brother  and  sisters,  and  the  bully  and  dupe 
he  would  prove,  by  turns,  of  all  with  whom  he  came  in  contact. 
Lord  Hervey  and  Queen  Caroline  discussed  the  same  delicate 
question,  and  the  latter,  fancying  that  her  son  ah-eady  assumed,  in 
public  and  in  her  presence,  the  swagger  of  a  new  greatness,  and 
that  he  was  bidding  for  popularity,  would  not  listen  to  Lord  Iler- 
vey's  assurances  that  she  would  be  able  to  rule  him  as  easily  as 
she  had  done  his  father.  She  ridiculed  his  conduct,  called  him 
fool  and  ass,  and  averred  that  while  the  thought  of  some  things  he 
did  "  make  her  feel  sick,"  the  idea  of  the  popularity  of  Fritz 
made  her  "  vomit."  As  hour  was  added  to  hour,  amid  all  this 
speculation  and  trouble,  and  "  still  Caisar  came  not,"  reports  of  loss 
of  life  at  sea  became  rife.     At  Harwich,  guns  had  been  heard  at 


318 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


night,  booming  over  the  waters  ;  people  had  come  to  the  conclu- 
sion that  they  were  guns  of  distress  tired  from  the  royal  fleet — the 
funeral  dirge  of  itself  and  the  monarch.  Communication  of  this 
gratifying  conclusion  was  made  to  Caroline.  Prince  Frederick 
kinkly  prepared  her  for  the  worst ;  Lord  Hervey  added  the  ex- 
pression of  his  fears  that  that  worst  was  not  very  far  off;  and  the 
Prmcess  Caroline  began  meditating  upon  the  hatred  of  her  brother 
"  for  mama,"  and  the  little  chance  there  would  be  of  her  obtaining 
a  libend  provision  from  the  new  king.  The  queen  was  more  con- 
cerned than  she  chose  to  acknowledge,  but  when  gloomy  uncer- 
tainty was  at  its  highest,  a  courier  whose  life  had  been  risked  with 
those  of  the  ship's  crew  with  whom  he  came  over,  in  order  to  in- 
fonn  Caroline  that  her  consort  had  not  risked  his  own,  was  flung 
ashore,  "miraculously,"  at  Yarmouth,  whence  hastening  to  St. 
James's,  he  relieved  all  apprehensions  and  crushed  all  aspiring 
hopes,  by  the  announcement  that  his  majesty  had  never  embarked 
at  all,  and  was  still  at  Helvoetsluys  awaiting  tine  weather  and 
favorinjr  jrales. 


•o  O' 


The  tine  weather  came,  and  the  wind  was  fair  for  brinsrinsr  the 
royal  wanderer  home.  It  remained  so  just  long  enough  to  induce 
all  the  king's  anxious  subjects  to  conclude  that  he  had  embarked, 
and  then  wind  and  weather  became  more  tempestuous  and  adverse 
than  they  were  before.  And  now  people  set  aside  speculation, 
and  confessed  to  a  conviction  that  his  majesty  lived  only  in  history. 
During  the  former  season  of  doubt,  Caroline  had  solaced  herself 
or  wiled  away  her  time  by  reading  RulUn,  and  affecting  to  make 
light  of  all  the  gloomy  reports  which  were  made  in  her  hearing. 
There  was  now,  however,  more  cause  for  alarm.  By  ones,  and 
twos,  and  fours,  the  ships  which  had  left  Helvoetsluys  with  the 
king  were  flung  upon  the  English  coast,  or  succeeded  in  making 
separate  harbors,  in  a  miserably  wrecked  condition.  All  the 
intelHgence  they  brought  was,  that  his  majesty  had  embarked,  that 
they  had  set  sail  in  company,  that  im  awful  hurricane  had  arisen, 
that  Sir  Charles  Wager  had  made  signal  for  every  vessel  to  pro- 
vide for  its  own  safety,  and  that  the  last  seen  of  the  royal  yacht 
was  that  she  was  tacking,  and  they  only  hoped  that  his  majesty 
might  have  succeeded  in  getting  back  to  Helvoetsluys.     Some  in 


CAROLINE  WILHELMINA    DOROTHEA. 


319 


England  echoed  that  loyally  expressed  hope ;  others  only  desired 
that  the  danger  intimated  by  it  might  have  been  wrought  out  to 
its  full  end. 

Christmas-day  at  St.  James's  was  the  very  gfoomiest  of  festive 
times,  and  the  evening  was  solemnly  spent  in  round  games  of 
cards.  The  queen,  indeed,  did  not  know  of  the  disasters  which 
had  liappened  to  the  royal  fleet ;  but  there  was  uncertainty  enough 
touching  the  fate  of  her  royal  husband,  to  make  even  the  reading 
of  Rollin  a{)pear  more  decent  than  playing  at  basset  and  cribbage. 
Meanwhile,  the  ministers  and  court  officials  stood  round  the  royal 
table,  and  discoursed  on  trivial  subjects,  while  their  thoughts  were 
directed  towards  their  storm-tost  master.  On  the  following  mprn- 
ing,  Sir  Robert  Walpole  informed  her  majesty  of  the  real  and 
graver  aspect  of  affairs.  The  heart  of  the  tender  woman  at  once 
melted  ;  and  Caroline  burst  into  tears,  unrestrainedly.  The  house- 
hold of  the  heir-ai)parent,  on  the  other  hand,  began  to  wear  an 
a.spect,  as  though  the  wishcd-for  inheritance  had  at  last  fallen 
upon  it. 

The  day  was  Sunday,  and  the  queen  resolved  upon  attending 
chapel  as  usual.  Lord  Hervey  thought  her  weak  in  determining 
to  sit  up  to  be  stared  at.  He  had  no  idea  that  a  higher  motive 
might  influence  a  wife  in  dread  uncertainty  as  to  the  fate  of  her 
husband.  Caroline,  it  is  true,  was  not  influenced  by  any  such  high 
motive.  She  simply  did  not  wish  that  people  should  conclude, 
from  her  absence,  that  the  sovereign  had  perished,  and  she  would 
neglect  no  duty  belonging  to  her  position  till  she  was  relieved 
from  it  by  law.  She  accordingly  a[)peared  at  chapel  as  usual,  and 
in  the  very  midst  of  the  service  a  letter  was  delivered  to  her  from 
the  kinjr,  in  which  the  much-vexed  monarch  told  her  how  he  had 
set  sail,  how  the  fleet  had  been  scattered,  how  he  had  been  driven 
back  to  Helvoetsluys  after  beating  about  for  some  twenty  hours, 
and  how  it  was  all  the  fault  of  Sir  Charles  Wager,  who  had  hur- 
ried him  on  board,  on  assurance  of  wind  and  tide  being  favorable, 
and  of  there  being  no  time  to  be  lost. 

The  joy  of  Caroline  was  honest  and  unfeigned.  She  declared 
that  her  heart  had  been  heavier  that  day  than  ever  it  had  been 
before ;  that  she  was  still,  indeed,  anxious  touching  the  fate  of  one 


320 


LIVES   OF  THE   QUEENS    OF  ENGLAND. 


whose  life  was  so  precious  not  merely  to  his  family,  but  to  all  Eu- 
rope ;  and  that  but  for  the  impatience  and  mdiscretion  of  Sir 
Charles  Wager,  the  past  great  perU  would  never  have  been 
incurred. 

The  admiral  was  entirely  blameless.    The  king  had  deliberately 
misrepresented  the  circumstances.     It  was  the  royal  impatience 
that  had  caused  all  the  subsequent  peril.     Tlie  sovereign,  weary 
of  waiting  for  a  wind,  declared  that  if  the  admiral  would  not  sail, 
he  would  go  over  in  a  packet-boat.     Sir  Charles  maintained  he 
could  not.     '^  Be  the  weather  what  it  may,"  said  the  kin-,  ^^  I  am 
not  afraid."     - 1  am^  was  the  laconic  remark  of  the^seaman. 
George  remarked  that  he  wanted  to  see  a  storm,  and  would  sooner 
be  twelve  hours  in  one,  than  be  shut  up  for  twenty-four  hoiu-s 
more  at  Helvot^tsluys."     -  Twelve  hours  in  a  storm ! "  cried  Sir 
Charies,  *'four  hours   would  do  your  business  for  you."      The 
admiral  would  not  sail  till  the  wind  was  fair;  and  he  remarked  to 
the  king  that  although  his  majesty  could  compel  him  to  go,  "I'' 
said  Sir  Charies,  -  can  make  you  come  back  again."     The  storm 
which  arose  after  they  did  set  sail,  was  most  terrific  in  character, 
and  the  escape  of  the  voyagers  was  of  the  narrowest.     The  run 
back  to  the  Dutch  coast  was  not  effected  without  difficulty.     On 
landing.  Sir  Charies  observed,  '^  Sir,  you  wished  to  see  a  storm  • 
how  does  your  majesty  like  it  ?"     -  So  well,"  said  the  king,  *•  that 
I  never  wish  to  see  another."     The  admiral  remarked,  intone  of 
Ins  private  letters,  giving  a  description  of  the  event,  ^  that  his  ma- 
jesty  was  at  present  as  tame  as  any  about  him  ;  ^  an  epithet,"  says 
Lord  Hervey,  "that  his  majesty,  had  he  known  it,  would,  iVancv 
have  liked,  next  to  the  stoim,  the  least  of  anything  that  happened 
to  him." 

"How  is  the  wind  for  the  king?"  was  the  popuUir  quer>'  at  the 
time  of  this  voyage,  and  the  popular  answer  was,  '*  Like  the  na- 
tion—against hun."  And  when  men  who  disliked  him  because  of 
his  vices,  or  of  their  political  hopes,  remarked  that  the  sovereign 
had  been  saved  from  drowning,  they  generally  added  the  comment 
that  **it  was  God's  mercy,  and  a  thousand  pities  I"  The  anxiety 
of  Ciirolme  for  the  king's  safety  had,  no  doubt,  been  ver>'  great— 
so  great,  that  in  it  she  had  forgotten  sj-mpathy  for  her  daughter  in 


CAROLINE   WILHELMINA   DOROTHEA. 


321 


her  hour  of  trial.  Lord  Hervey  will  not  allow  that  the  queen  had 
any  worthier  motive  for  her  anxiety,  than  her  apprehension  "  of 
her  son's  ascending  the  throne,  as  there  were  no  lengths  she  did 
not  tiiink  him  capable  of  going  to  pursue  and  ruin  her." 

She  comforted  herself  by  declaring  that  had  the  worst  happened, 
she  still  would  have  retained  Lord  Hervey  in  her  service,  and 
have  given  him  an  apartment  in  her  jointure  house,  (old)  Somer- 
set House.  She  added,  too,  that  she  would  have  gone  down  on 
her  knees  to  beg  Sir  Robert  WaliX)le  to  continue  to  serve  the  son, 
as  he  had  done  the  father.  All  this  is  not  so  self-denying  as  it 
seems.  In  retaining  Lord  Hervey,  whom  her  son  hated,  she  was 
securing  one  of  her  highest  pleasures ;  and  by  keeping  Sir  Robert 
in  the  service  of  the  prince,  she  would  have  governed  the  latter  as 
she  had  done  his  father. 

Gross  as  the  king  was  in  his  acts,  he  was  choice  and  refined, 
when  he  chose,  in  his  letters.  The  epistle  which  he  wrote  in  reply 
to  the  congratulations  of  the  queen  on  his  safety,  is  elegant,  touch- 
ing, warm,  and  ap[)arently  sincere.  "In  spite  of  all  the  danger  I 
have  incurred  in  this  tempest,  my  dear  Caroline,  and  notwithstand- 
ing all  I  have  suffered,  having  been  ill  to  an  excess,  which  I 
thought  the  human  body  could  not  bear,  I  assure  you  that  I  would 
expose  myself  to  it  again  and  again,  to  have  the  pleasure  of  hear- 
ing the  testimonies  of  your  affection  with  which  my  position  in- 
spired you.  This  affection  which  you  testify  for  me,  this  friendship, 
this  fidelity,  the  inexhaustible  goodness  which  you  show  for  me ; 
and  the  indulgence  which  you  have  for  all  my  weaknesses ;  are  so 
many  obligations  which  I  can  never  suflSciently  recompense,  can 
never  sufficiently  merit,  but  which  I  also  can  never  forget."  The 
original  French  runs  more  prettily  than  this,  and  adapts  itself  well 
to  the  phrases  which  praised  the  queen's  charms  and  attractions 
with  all  the  ardor  of  youthful  swain  for  blushing  nymph.  The 
queen  showed  the  letter  to  "SValpole  and  Hervey,  with  the  remark 
that  she  was  reasonably  pleased  with,  but  not  unreasonably  proud 
of  it.  The  gentlemen  came  to  the  conclusion  that  the  master  whom 
they  served  was  the  most  incomprehensible  master  to  whom  service 
was  ever  rendered.  He  was  a  mere  old  cajoler,  deceiving  the  wo- 
man whom  he  affected  to  praise,  and  only  praising  her  because  she 

14* 


322 


LIVES  OF  THE    QUEENS   OF   ENGLAND. 


let  him  have  an  unconstrained  course  in  vice,  while  she  enjoyed 
one  in  power. 

At  length,  after  a  detention  of  five  weeks  at  Helvoetslujs,  the 
king  arrived  at  Lowestoffe.     The  queen  received  information  of 
his  coming,  at  four  o'clock  in  the  morning,  after  a  sleepless  night, 
caused  by  illness  both  of  mind  and  body.    When  Wal[K)le  repaired' 
to  her  at  nine  the  next  morning,  she  was  still  in  bed,  and  the  good 
Princess   Caroline  was  at  her  side,  trying  to  read  her  to  sleep. 
Wali)ole  waited  until  her  majesty  had  taken  some  repose;  and 
meanwhile  the  Prince  of  Wales  and  the  Princess  Amelia  (who 
was  distrusted  by  her  brother  and  by  her  mother,  because  she 
affected  to  serve  each,  while  she  betrayed  both),  entered  into  a 
gossiping  sort  of  conference  with  him  in  the  antechamber.     The 
prince  was  all  praise,  the  minister  all  counsel.     Walpole  perhaps 
felt  that  the  heir-apparent,  who  boasted  that  when  he  appeared  in 
public,  the  people  shouted,  ^'Croicnhim!   Crown  him!''  was  en- 
gaging him  to  lead  the  first  administration  under  a  new  reign. 
The  recent  prospect  of  such  a  reign  being  near  at  hand,  had  bJI-n 
a  source  of  deep  alarm  to  Caroline,  and  also  of  distaste.     She 
would  have  infinitely  preferred  that  Frederick  should  have  been 
disinherited,  and  his  brother  William  advanced  to  his  position  as 
heir-apparent. 

The  king  arrived  in  town  on  the  15th  of  January,  17^7.     He 
came  in  sovereign  goo<l-humor;  greeted  all  kindly,  was  warmly 
received,  and  was  never  tired  of  expatiating  on  the  admirable  qual- 
ities of  his  consort.     An  observer,  indift'erently  instructed,  would 
not  have  thought  that  this  contemptible  jjersonage  had  a  mistress, 
who  was  the  object  of  more  ardent  homage  than  he  ever  paid  to 
that  wife,  whom  he  declared  to  be  superior  to  all  the  women  in  the 
world.     He  was  fervent  in  his  eulogy  of  her,  not  only  to  herself 
but  to  Sir  Robert  Walpole ;  and  indeed  was  only  peevish  with 
those  who  presumed  to  inquire  after  his  health.     The  storm  had 
something  shaken  him,  and  he  was  not  able  to  open  parliament  in 
person;  but  nothing  more  sorely  chafed  liim  than  an  air  of  solici- 
tude and  inquiry  after  liis  condition  by  loyal  ser%-itors,— who  got 
nothing  for  their  pains  but  the  appellation  of  **  puppies."    He  soon, 
however,  had  more  serious  provocation  to  contend  with. 


V 


" 


CAROLINE   WIMIELMIXA    DOKOTIIEA. 


323 


k 


The  friends  of  the  Prince  of  Wales  compelled  him,  little  reluct- 
ant, to  bring  the  question  of  his  income  before  parliament.  The 
threat  to  take  this  step  alarmed  Walpole,  by  whose  advice  a  mes- 
sage was  sent  from  the  king,  and  delivered  by  the  lords  of  the 
council  to  tiie  prince,  whereby  the  proposal  was  made  to  settle 
upon  him  the  50,000/.  a-year  which  he  now  received  in  monthly 
payments  at  the  king's  pleasure,  and  also  to  settle  a  jointure,  the 
amount  of  which  was  not  named,  upon  the  princess. 

Both  their  majesties  were  very  unwilling  to  make  this  proposi- 
tion, but  Walpole  assured  them  that  the  submitting  it  to  the  prince 
would  place  his  royal  highness  in  considerable  difficulty.  If  he 
accepted  it,  the  king  would  get  credit  for  generosity ;  and  if  he 
rejected  it,  the  prince  would  incur  the  blame  of  undutifuhiess  and 
ingratitude. 

The  offer  was  made,  but  it  was  neither  accepted  nor  refused. 
The  prince  expressed  great  gratitude,  but  declared  his  inability  to 
decide,  as  the  conduct  of  the  measure  was  in  the  hands  of  others, 
and  he  could  not  prevent  them  from,  bringing  the  consideration  of 
it  before  parliament.  The  prince's  friends,  and  indeed  others  be- 
sides his  friends,  saw  clearly  enough  that  the  king  offered  no  boon. 
His  majesty  simply  proposed  to  settle  upon  his  son  an  annual 
income  amounting  to  only  half  of  what  parliament  had  granted  on 
the  understanding  of  its  being  allotted  to  the  prince.  The  king 
and  queen  maintained  with  equal  energy,  and  not  always  in  the 
most  delicate  manner,  that  the  parliament  had  no  more  right  to 
interfere  with  the  appropriation  of  this  money  than  that  body  had 
with  the  allowances  made  by  any  father  to  his  son.  The  rage  of 
the  queen  was  more  unrestrained  than  that  of  her  husband,  and 
she  was  especially  indignant  against  Walpole  for  having  counselled 
that  an  offer  should  be  made,  which  liad  failed  in  its  object,  and 
had  not  prevented  the  matter  being  brought  before  parliament. 

The  making  of  it,  however,  had  doubtless  some  influence  upon 
the  members,  and  helped  in  a  small  way  to  increase  the  majority 
in  favor  of  the  government.  The  excitement  in  the  court  circle 
was  very  great  when  an  address  to  the  king  was  moved  for  by 
Pulieney,  suggesting  the  desirableness  of  the  prince's  income 
l)eing  increased.     The  consequent  debate  was  one  of  considerable 


tTT"  — 


ittHHfeei^ 


324 


UVES  OF  THE  QUEERS   OF  ENGLAND. 


interest,  and  was  skilfully  maintained  by  the   respective   adver- 
sanes.     The  prince's  advocates  were  broadly  accused  of  lying 
and  Caroline,  at  all  times  and  seasons,  in  her  dressing-room  with 
Lord  Ilervey,  and  in  the   drawing-room  with  a  crowded  circle 
around  her,  openly  and  coarsely  stigmatized  her  son  as  a  liar,  and 
his  friends  as  "nasty"  Whigs.     Great  was  her  joy  when,  by  a 
majority  of  234  to  204,  the  motion  for  the  address  was  defeated. 
Tliere  was  even  congratulation  that  the  victory  had  cost  the  kin- 
so  little  in  bribes,  only  900/,  in  divisions  of  500/.  to  one  member 
and  400/.  to  another.     And  even  this  sum  was  not  positive  pur- 
chase-money of  votes  for  this  especial  occasion,  but  money  pro- 
mised  to  be  paid  at  the  end  of  the  session  for  general  service,  and 
only  advanced  now  because  of  the  present  particular  and  well- 
appreciated  assistance  rendered. 

Let  us  do  the  prince  the  justice  to  say,  that  in  asking  that  his 
income  might  be  doubled,  he  did  not  ask  that  the  money  should  be 
drawn  from  the  public  purse.     When  Bubb  Dodington  first  ad- 
vised  him   to  apply  to  pai-liament  for  a  grant,  his  answer  was 
spirited  enough.     "The  people  have  done  quite  enou-h  for  my 
fem.Iy  already,  and  I  would  rather  beg  my  bread  from  door  to 
door  than  be  a  charge  to  them."     What  he  asked  for  was,  that  out 
of  his  father^s  civil  list  of  nearly  a  million  sterling  per  annum,  he 
might  be  provided  with  a  more  decent  revenue  than  a  be--arly 
fifty  thousand  a  year,  paid  at  his  father's  jjleasure.     Pulteney's 
motion  was  denounced  by  ministers  as  an  infraction  of  the  kin-'s 
prerogative.     Well,  Frederick  could  not  get  the  cash  he  coveted 
from  the  king,  and  he  would  not  take  it  from  the  public.     Bubb 
Dodington  had  advised  him  to  apply  to  parliament,  and  he  re- 
warded Bubb  for  the  hint  by  easing  him  occasionally  of  a  few 
thousands  at  play.     He  exulted  in  winning.     "  I  have  just  nicked 
Dodington,"  said  he  on  one  occasion,  "  out  of  5000/.^  and  Bubb 
has  no  chance  of  ever  getting  it  again  ! " 

The  battle,  however,  was  not  yet  concluded.  The  prince's 
party  resolved  to  make  the  same  motion  in  the  Lords  which  had 
been  made  in  the  Commons.  The  king  and  queen  meanwhile 
considered  that  they  were  released  from  their  engagement,  where- 
by the  prince's   revenue  was  to  be  placed  entirely  in  his  own 


CAROLINE    WJLIIKLMLVA    DOMOTIIEA. 


325 


, 


power.  They  were  also  anxious  to  eject  their  son  from  St.  James's. 
Good  counsel,  nevertheless,  prevailed  over  them  to  some  extent, 
and  they  did  not  proceed  to  any  of  the  extremities  threatened  by 
them.     In  the  meantime,  the  scene  within  the  palace  was  one  to 
make  a  very  stoic  sigh.     The  son  had  daily  intercourse  with  one 
or  both  of  his  parents.     He  led  the  queen  by  the  hand  to  dinner, 
and  she  could  have  stabbed  him  on  the  way ;  for  her  wrath  wai 
more  bitter  than  ever  against  him,  for  the  reason  that  he  had 
introduced  her  name,  through   his  friends,  in  the  parliamentary 
debate,  in  a  way  which   she  considered   must   compromise   her 
rei>utation  with  the  peoi)le  of  England.     He  had  himself  declared 
to  the  councillors  who  had  brought  him  the  terms  of  the  king's 
offer,  that  he  had  frequently  applied  through  the  queen  for  In 
interview  with  the  king,  at  which  an  amicable  arrangement  of 
their  differences  might  be  made,  but  that  she  had  prevented  such 
an  interview,  by  neglecting  to  make  the  prince's  wishes  known  to 
his  father.     This  story  was  repeated  by  the  prince's  friends  in 
parliament,  and  Caroline  called  Heaven  and  earth  to  witness  that 
her  son  had  grossly  and  deliberately  lied.     In  this  temper  the  two 
often  sat  down  to  dinner  at  the  same  table.     As  for  the  kin- 
although  Frederick  attended  the  royal  levees,  and  stood  near  hTs 
royal  su-e,  the  latter  never  aflfected  to  behold  or  to  consider  him  as 
present,  and  he  invariably  spoke  of  him  as  a  brainless,  impertinent 
puppy  and  scoundrel.* 

The  motion  for  the  address  to  the  king  praying  him  to  confer  a 
jointure  on  the  princess,  and  to  settle  100,000/.  a-year  out  of  the 
civil  list  on  the  prince,  was  brought  before  the  House  of  Peers  by 
Lord  Carteret.  That  nobleman  so  well  served  his  royal  client 
that,  before  bringing  forward  the  motion,  he  made  an  apolo-y  to 
the  queen,  declaring  that  office  had  been  forced  on  him.  ^The 
exercise  thereof  was  a  decided  failure.  The  Lords  rejected  the 
motion,  on  a  division  of  103  to  40,  the  majority  making  stroncr 
protest  against  the  division  of  the  house,  and  in  very  remarkable 
language.     The  latter  did  not  trouble  their  majesties,  and  this 


826 


LIVES   OF  THE    QUEENS   OF   ENGLAND. 


settling  of  the  question  even  helped  to  restore  Sir  Robert  Walpole 
to  the  royal  favor,  from  which  he  had  temporarily  fallen. 

There  was  another  public  affair  which  gave  the  queen  as  much 
perplexity  as  any  of  her  domestic  troubles.     This  was  the  investi- 
gation into  the  matter  of  the  Porteous  riot  at  Edinburgh,  with  the 
object  of  punishing  those  v»ho  were  most   to  blame.     It  is  not 
necessary  to"  detail  this  matter  at  any  length,  or  indeed  further 
than  the  queen  was  personally  connected  with  it.     She  was  ex- 
ceedingly desirous  that  it  should  be  decided  on  its  merits,  and 
that  it  should  not  be  made  a  national  matter  of.     On  this  account, 
she  was  especially  angry  with  the  Duke  of  Newcastle,  on  whom 
she  laid  the  blame  of  having  very  unnecessarily  dragged  up  to 
London  such  respectable  men  as   the  Scotch  judges;   and   she 
asked  him  "What  the  devil  he  meant  by  it?"     While  the  affair 
was  still  pending,  but  after  the  judges  had  been  permitted  to  go 
back  again,  the  queen  remarked  to  Lord  Ilervey,  "she  should  be 
glad  to  know  the  truth,  but  believed  she  should  never  come  at  it — 
whether  the  Scotch  judges  had  been  really  to  blame  or  not  in  the 
trial  of  Captain   Porteous  :  for,  between  you  and  the  Bishop  of 
Salisbury"  (Sherlock),  said  she,  "who  each  of  you  convinced  me 
by  turns,  I  am  as  much  in  the  dark  as  if  I  knew  nothing  at  all  of 
the  matter.     lie  comes  and  tells  me  that  they  are  all  as  black  as 
devils ;  you,  that  they  are  as  white  as  snow ;  and  whoever  speaks 
last,  I  believe.     I  am  like  that  judge  you  talk  of  so  often  in  the 
play   (Gripus,*   I  think   you  call   him),  that  after  one  side  had 
spoken  begged  t'others  might  hold  their  tongue,  for  fear  of  puzzling 
what  was  clear  to  him.     I  am  Queen  Gripus  ;  and  since  the  more 
I  hear  the  more  I  am  puzzled,  I  am  resolved  I  will  hear  no  more 
about  it;  but  let  them  be  in  the  right  or  the  wrong,  I  own  to  you 
I  ara  glad  they  are  gone."     The  city  of  Edinburgh  was  ultimately 
punished  by  the  deposition  of  its  provost,  Mr.  Wilson,  who  wa^ 
declared  incapable  of  ever  serving  his  majesty ;  and  by  the  impo- 
sition of  a  fine  of  two  thousand  pounds — not  "  Scots,"  but  sterling. 
The  "mulct"  was  to  go  the  "cook-maid  widow  of  Captain  Por- 
teous, and  make,  her  with  most  unconjugal  joy,  bless  the  hour  in 
which  her  husband  was  hanged."  t 

*  In  •*  Amphitryon  "  f  Lord  Hervpy. 


CAROLINE   WILIIELMINA    DOIIOTIIEA. 


827 


The  conduct  of  Caroline,  when  Sir  John  Beniard  proposed  to 
to  reduce  the  interest  on  the  National  Debt  from  four  to  three  per 
cent.,  again  presents  her  to  us  in  a  very  unfavorable  light.     Not 
only  the  queen,  but  the  king  also  was  most  energetically  opposed 
to  the  passing  of  the  bill.     People  conjectured  that  their  majesties 
were  large  fundholders,  and  were  reluctant  to  lose  a  quarter  of  the 
income  thence  arising  for  the  good  of  the  nation.     The  bill  was 
ultimately  thrown  out,  chiefly  through  the  opiwsition  of  Walpole. 
By  this  decision,  the  House  stultified  its  own  previously  accorded 
permission  (by  220  to  157)  for  the  introduction  of  the  bill.    Horace 
Walpole,  the  brother  of  Sir  Robert,  was  one  of  those  who  voted 
first  for  and  then  against  the  bill— or  first  against,  and  then  for  his 
brother.     We  must  once  more  draw  from  Lord  Ilervey's  graphic 
pages  to  show   what  followed  at  Court  upon  such  a  course:— 
"Horace  Walpole,  though  his  brother  made  him  vote  against  the 
three  per  cent.,  did  it  with  so  ill  a  grace,  and  talked  against  his  o\^ti 
conduct  so  strongly  and  so  frequently  to  the  queen,  that  her  majesty 
held  him  at  present  in  little  more  esteem  or  favor  than  the  Duke 
of  Newcastle.     She  told  him  that  because  he  had  some  practice  in 
treaties,  and  was  employed  in  foreign  affairs,  that  he  began  to  think 
he  understood  everything  better  than  anybody  else ;  and  that  it 
was  really  quite  new  his  setting  himself  up  to  undei-stand  the  rev- 
enue, money  matters,  and  the  House  of  Commons  better  than  his 
brother!     *  Oh,  what  are  you  all  but  a  rope  of  sand  that  would 
crumble  away  in  little  grains,  one  after  another,  if  it  was  not  for 
him  ?'     And  whenever  Horace  had  been  with  her,  speaking  on 
these  subjects,  besides  telling  Lord  Hervey  when  he  came  to  see 
her,  how  like  an  opinionated  fool  Horace  had  talked  before  them, 
she  used  to  complain  of  his  silly  laugh  hurting  her  ears,  and  hij 
dirty,  sweaty  body  offending  her  nose,  as  if  she  had  never  had  the 
two  senses  of  hearing  and  smelling  in  all  her  acquaintance  with 
poor  Horace,  till  he  had  talked  for  three  per  cent.     Sometimes  she 
used  to  cough  and  pretend  to  retch,  as  if  she  were  ready  to  vomit 
with  talking  of  his  dirt ;  and  would  often  bid  Lord  Hervey  open  the 
window,  to  purify  the  room  of  the  stink  Horace  had  left  behind 
him,  and  call  pages  to  burn  sweets  to  get  it  out  of  the  hangings. 
She  told  I^rd  Hervey  she  believed  Horace  had  a  hand  m  the 


328 


LIVES  OF  THE    QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


'  Craftsman/  for  tliat  once,  warmed  in  disputing  on  this  three  per 
cent  affair,  he  had  more  than  hinted  to  her  tliat  he  guessed  her 
reason  for  being  so  zealous  against  this  scheme  was  her  having 
money  in  the  stocks."  '^ 

When  such  coarseness  was  common  at  court,  we  need  not  be 
surprised  that  dramatic  authors,  whose  office  it  is  to  liohl  the  mirror 
up  to  nature,  should  have  attemi)ted  to  make  some  reflection  there- 
on, or  to  take  license  therefrom,  and  give  additional  coarseness  to 
the  stage.     Walpole's  virtuous  indignation   was   excited   at  this 
liberty-a  libeity  taken  only  because  people  in  his  station,  and  far 
above  his  station,  by  their  vices  and  coarseness,  justified  the  licence 
it  was  this  vice,  and  not  the  vices  of  dramatic  authors,  which  first 
lettered  tlie  drama,  and  established  a  censorship.     The  latter  was 
set  up,  not  because  the  stage  was  wicked,  but  in  order  that  it 
should  not  satirize  the  wickedness  of  those  in  high  station.     The 
queen  vvas  exceedingly  delighted  to  see  a  gag  put  upon  both  Thalia 
and  Melpomene. 

The  vice  w^os  hideous.     They  who  care  to  stir  the  offensive  mass 
wil   find  proof  enough  of  this  hideousness  in  the  account  given  by 
Lady  Deloraine,  the  wife  of  Mr.  Windham,  of  the  king's  courtship 
ot  her,  and  h.s  consequent  temporary  oblivion  of  Madame  Walmo- 
clen.     This  new  rival  of  the  queen,  a  chai-ming  doll  thirty-five 
years  of  age,  was  wooed  by  the  king  in  a  strain  which  the  stage 
wou  d  hardly  have  reproduced ;  and  his  suit  was  commented  upon  by 
the  lady,  in  common  conversation  with  lords  and  hidies,  with  an 
unctuousness  of  phrase,  a  licentiousness  of  manner,  and  a  coolness 
of  calculatH.n,  such  as  would  have  disgraced  the  most  immodest  of 
women.     This  coarseness  of  sentiment  and  expression  was  equally 
common.     AV  hen  it  was  said  that  Lord  Cartaret  w:«  writin.  a 
history  of  his  times;  and  that  noble  author  himself  alleged  that\e 
was  engaged  in  "  giving  fame  to  the  queen,"  the  latter,  one  morn- 
ing,  noticed  the  alleged  fact  to  Lord  Hervey.     The  king  was 
present  and  his  majesty  remarked:-"!  dare  sayjie  wilf  paint 
you  in  fine  colors,  the  dirty  liar."     ^^  Why  not  ?"  asked  Caroline 
good  things  come  out  of  dirt  sometimes.     I  hare  ate  veir  -ood 
asparagus  raised  out  of  dung?"     When  it  was  said  that  n;t:nly 
Lord  Cartaret,  but  that  Lords  Bolingbroke  and  Chesterfield  were 


CAROLINE   WILIIELMINA    DOROTHEA. 


329 


also  engaged  in  writing  the  history  of  their  times,  the  queen  criti- 
cally anticipated,  "that  all  the  three  histories  would  be  three  heaps 
of  lies ;  but  lies  of  very  different  kinds  ;  she  said  Bolingbroke's 
would  be  great  lies ;  Chesterfield's  little  lies ;  and  Cartaret's  lies  of 
both  sorts."  ♦  It  may  be  added,  that  where  there  were  vice  and 
coarseness,  there  was  little  respect  for  justice,  or  for  independence  of 
conduct.  The  placemen  who  voted  according  to  his  conscience, 
when  he  found  his  conscience  in  antagonism  against  the  court,  was 
invariably  removed  from  his  place. 

Li  concluding  this  chapter,  it  may  be  stated  that  when  Frederick 
was  about  to  bring  forward  the  question  of  his  revenue,  the  queen 
would  fain  have  had  an  interview  with  the  son  she  alternately  de- 
spised and  feared,  to  persuade  him  against  pursuing  this  measure,— 
the  carrying  out  of  which  she  dreaded  as  prejudicial  to  the  king's 
health  in  his  present  enfeebled  state.  Caroline,  however,  would 
not  see  her  son,  for  the  reason,  as  the  mother  alleged,  that  he  was 
such  an  incorrigible  liar  that  he  was  capable  of  making  any  men- 
dacious report  of  the  interview,  even  of  her  designing  to  murder 
him.  She  had,  in  an  interview  with  him,  at  the  time  of  the  agita- 
tion connected  with  the  Excise  Bill,  been  compelled  to  place'' the 
Princess  Caroline,  concealed,  within  hearing,  that  she  might  be  a 
witness  in  case  of  the  prince,  her  brother,  misrepresenting  what 
had  really  taken  i)lacc. 

When  the  king  learned  the  prince's  intentions,  he  took  the  mat-  • 
ter  much  more  coolly  than  the  queen.  Several  messengers,  how- 
euer,  passed  between  the  principal  parties,  but  nothing  was  done  in 
the  way  of  turning  the  prince  from  his  purpose.  It  was  an  innocent 
puri)ose  enough,  indeed,  as  he  represented  it.  The  parliament  had 
intrusted  to  the  king  100,000/.  a  year  for  the  prince's  use.  The 
king  and  queen  did  not  so  understand  it,  and  he  simply  applied  to 
parliament  to  solicit  that  august  body  to  put  an  interpretation  on 
its  own  act. 

The  supposed  debilitated  condition  of  the  king's  health  gave  in- 
creased hopes  to  the  prince's  party.  The  queen,  therefore,  induced 
him  to  hold  levees  and  api)ear  more  frequently  in  public.     His 

*  Lord  Hervey. 


330 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEEN'S  OF  ENGLAND. 


improvement  in  health  and  good  humor  was  a  matterof  disappoint- 
ment to  those  who  wished  him  dying,  and  feared  to  see  him  grow 
popular.  ^ 

The  animosity  of  the  queen  and  her  daugliter,' the   Princess 
Uirohne,  was  almost  unnaturally  ferocious.  ♦     The  mother  curbed 
the  day  on  which  she  had  borne  the  son  who  was  for  ever  destroy- 
ing her  peace,  and  would  end,  she  said,  by  destmying  her  life. 
Ihere  was  no  opprobrious  epithet  which  she  did  not  cast  at  him, 
iiml  they  who  surrounded  the  queen  and  princess  had  the  honor  of 
dady  hearing  them  hope  that  God  would  strike  the  son  and  brother 
dead  with  apoplexy.     Such  enmity  seems  to  us  now  incredible,  and 
even  m  the  days  here  treated  of,  it  could  not  have  been  common, 
nor  agreeable  to   those   who  witnessed  it.     The  gentle  princess 
Carohne's  gentlest  name  for  her  brother  was  « that  nauseous  beast '» 
and  m  i-unning  over  the  catalogue  of  crimes  of  which  she  declared 
Inm  capable,  if  not  actually  guilty,  she  did  not  hesitate  to  say  that 
he  was  capable  of  murdering  even  those  whom  he  caressed.    Never 
was  family  circle  so  blasted  by  dissension  as  this  royal  circle  in 
which  the  parents  hated  the  son,  the  son  the  parents ;  the  parents 
deceived  one  another,  the  husband  betrayed  the  wife,  the  wife  de- 
luded the  husband,  the  children  were  at  mutual  antagonism,  and 
truth  was  a  stranger  to  all. 


CAROLINE  WILHELMINA    DOROTHEA. 


331 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE    BIRTH    OF   AN    HEIRESS. 

The  parliament  having  passed  a  land  tax  bill  of  two  shilHnrrs 
m  the  pound,  exempted  the  Prince  of  Wales  from  contributin^r 
even  the  usual  sixpence  in  the  pound  on  his  civil  list  revenue,  and 
settled  a  dowry  on  his  wife  of  50,000/.  per  annum,  peremptorily 

*  To  what  extent  it  was  so,  can  only  be  understood  by  those  who  peruse 
the  memoirs  of  this  Court  by  Lord  Hervey.  What  we  have  said  can  but  con- 
vey a  lam  t  Idea  of  the  reality,  as  described  in  the  volumes  of  the  queen's 
vice-chamberlain . 


rejected  Sir  John  Barnard's  motion  for  decreasing  the  taxation 
which  weighed  most  heavily  on  the  poor.*  The  public  found  mat- 
ter for  much  speculation  in  these  circumstances,  and  they  alter- 
nately discussed  them  with  the  subject  of  the  aggressive  ambition 
of  Russia.  The  latter  power  was  then  invading  the  Crimea  with 
two  armies  under  Munich  and  Lasci.  Then  as  now,  the  occupier 
of  the  Muscovite  throne  stooped  to  mendacity  to  veil  the  real  ob- 
ject of  the  war ;  and  then  as  now,  there  were  Russian  officers  not 
ashamed  to  be  assassins, — murdering  the  wounded  foe  whom  they 
found  lying  helpless  on  their  path.f 

The  interest  in  all  home  and  foreign  matters,  however,  was 
speedily  lost  in  that  which  the  public  took  in  the  matter,  which 
soon  presented  itself,  of  the  accession  of  an  heir  in  the  direct  here- 
ditary line  of  Brunswick. 

The  prospect  of  the  birth  of  a  lineal  heir  to  the  throne  ought  to 
have  been  one  of  general  joy  in  a  family  whose  own  possession  of 
the  crown  was  contested  by  the  disinherited  heir  of  the  Stuart  line. 
The  i)rospect  brought  no  joy  with  it  on  the  present  occasion.     It 
was  not  till  within  a  month  of  the  time  for  the  event,  that  the 
Prince  of  Wales  officially  announced  to  his  father,  on  the  best  pos- 
sible authority,  the  probability  of  the  event  itself.     Caroline  ap- 
pears at  once  to  have  disbelieved  the  announcement.     She  was  so 
desirous  of  the  succession  falling  to  her  second  son  AVilliara,  that 
she  made  no  scniple  of  expressing  her  disbelief  of  what,  to  most 
other  observers,  was  apparent  enough.     She  questioned  the  prin- 
cess herself,  with  more  closeness  than  even  the  position  of  a  mother- 
in-law  could  justify,  but  for  every  query  the  well-trained  Augusta 
had  one  stereotyped  reply,  "  I  don't  know.'*     Caroline,  on  her^'side, 
resolved  to  be  better  instructed.     « I  will  positively  be  present," 
she  exclaimed,  «  when  the  promised  event  takes  place ;"  adding 
with  her  usual  broadness  of  illustration,  "  It  can't  be  got  through 
so  soon  as  one  can  blow  one's  nose  ;  and  I  am  resolved  to  be  satis- 
fied that  the  child  is  hers." 

Salmon's  Chronological  Historian, 
t  Suwarrow's  Military  Catechism  contains  the  atrocious  hint,  that  a  wounded 
toeraan  may  become  a  dangerous  enemy. 


332 


tilVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  EXGI.AXD. 


il  • 


These  suspicions,  of  which  the  queen  made  no  secret,  were  of 
course  well  known  to  her  son.  He  was  offended  by  them  ;  offend- 
ed, too,  at  a  peremptory  order  that  the  birth  of  the  expected  heir 
should  take  place  in  Hampton  Court  Palace  ;  and  he  was,  more- 
over, stirred  up  by  his  political  friends  to  exhibit  his  own  indepen- 
dence, and  to  oppose  the  royal  wish,  in  order  to  show  that  he  had 
a  proper  spirit  of  freedom. 

Accordingly,  twice  he  brought  the  princess  to  London,  and  twice 
returned  with  her  to  Hampton  Court.     Each  time  the  journey  had 
been  undertaken  on  symptoms  of  indisposition  coming  on,  which, 
however,  passed  away.     At  length  one  evening,  the  prince  and 
princess,  afler  dining  in  public  with  the  king  and  queen,  took  leave 
of  them  for  the  night,  and  withdrew  to  their  apartments.     Up  to 
this  hour  the  princess  had  appeared  to  be  in  her  ordinary  health. 
Tokens  of  a  supervening  change  came  on,  and  the  i)rince  at  once 
prepared  for  action.     The  night  (the  31st  of  July,)  was  now  con- 
siderably advanced,  and  the  Princess  of  Wales,  who  had  been  hith- 
erto eager  to  obey  her  husband's  wishes  in  all  things,  was  now  too 
ill  to  do  anything  but  pray  against  them.     He  would  not  listen  to 
such   petitions.     He   ordered   his  *•  coach"  to  be  got  ready  and 
brought  round  to  a  side  entrance  of  the  palace.     The  lights  in  the 
apartment  were  in  the  meantime  extinguished.     He  con^'signed  his 
wife  to  the  strong  arms  of  Desnoyers,  the  dancing-masrer,  and 
Bloodworth  an  attendant,  who  dragged,  rather  than  carried,  her 
down  stairs.     In  the  meantime,  the  poor  lady,  whose  life  was  in 
very  present  peril,  and  sufferings  extreme,  prayed  earnestly  to  be 
permitted  to  remain  where  she  was.     Subsequently,  she  protested 
to  the  queen  that  all  that  had  been  done  had  taken  place  at  her 
own  express  desire  !     However  this  may  be,  the  prince  answered 
her  prayers  and  moans  by  calling  on  her  to  have  courage ;  upbraid- 
ing her  for  her  folly  ;  and  assuring  her,  with  a  very  manly  compla- 
cency, that  it  was  nothing,  and  would  soon  be  over !     At  length, 
the  coach  was  reached.     It  was  the  usually  capacious  vehicle"  of 
the  time,  and  into  it  got  not  only  the  prince  and  princess,  but  Lady 
Archibald  Hamilton,  and  two  female  attendants.     Vriad,  who  was 
not  only   a   valet-de-chambre,   but   a   surgeon    and-  accoucheur, 
mounted  the  box.     Bloodworth,  the  dancing-master,  and  two  or 


CAROLINE  WILHELMINA    DOROTHEA. 


333 


I 


three  more,  got  up  behind.  The  prince  enjoined  the  strictest 
silence  on  such  of  his  household  as  remained  at  Hampton  Court, 
and  therewith  the  coach  set  off,  at  a  gallop,  not  for  the  prmce'J 
own  residence  at  Kew,  but  for  St.  James's  Palace,  which  was  at 
twice  the  distance. 

At  the  palace  nothing  was  prepared  for  them.  There  was  not 
a  couch  ready  for  the  exhausted  lady,  who  had  more  than  once  on 
the  road  been,  as  it  seemed,  upon  the  point  of  expiring,— there 
was  not  even  a  bed  ready  for  her  to  lie  down  and  repo°se  upon. 
There  were  no  sheets  to  be  found  in  the  whole  palace,— or  at  least 
in  that  part  of  it  over  which  the  prince  had  any  authority.  For 
lack  of  them,  Frederick  and  Lady  Hamilton  aired  a  couple  of 
table-cloths,  and  these  did  the  service  required  of  them. 

In  the  meantime,  notice  had  been  sent  to  several  officers  of  state, 
and  to  the  more  necessary  assistants  required,  to  be  present  at  the 
imminent  event.  The  most  of  the  great  officers  were  out  of  the 
way.  In  lieu  of  them  arrived  the  Lord  President,  Wilmington; 
and  the  Lord  Privy  Seal,  Godolphin.  In  their  presence  was  bom' 
a  daughter  whom  Lord  Hervey  designated  as  "  a  little  rat,"  and' 
described  as  being  "  no  bigger  than  a  tooth-pick  case."  ^ 

Perhaps  it  was  the  confusion  which  reigned  before  and  at  her 
birth,  which  had  some  influence  on  her  intellects  in  after  life.  She 
was  an  extremely  pretty  child,  not  without  some  mental  qualifica- 
tions, but  she  became  remarkable  for  making  observations  which 
inflicted  pain  or  embarrassment  on  those  to  whom  they  were  ad- 
dressed. In  after  years,  she  also  became  the  mother  of  that  Caro- 
line of  Brunswick  who  herself  made  confusion  worse  confounded  in 
the  family  into  which  she  was  received  as  a  member ;— that  Caro- 
line whom  we  recollect  as  the  consort  of  George  IV.  and  the  pro- 
tectress of  Baron  Berffami. 

But  this  is  once  more  anticipating  events.  Let  us  return  to 
Hampton  Court,  where  the  king  and  queen,  concluding  that  their 
dear  son  and  heir  had,  with  his  consort,  relieved  his  illustrious 
parents  of  his  undesired  presence  for  the  night,  thought  of  nothing 
so  little  a.s  of  that  son  having  taken  it  into  his  head  to  perform  a 
trick  which  might  have  been  fittingly  accompanied  by  the  Beggars* 
Opera  chorus  of  "  Hurrah  for  the  Road  ! " 


83i 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


I 


No  comedy  has  such  a  scene  as  that  enacted  at  Hampton  Court 
on  this  night.  While  the  prince  was  carrying  off  the  prmcess,  de- 
spite all  her  agonizing  entreaties,  the  whole  royal  family  were 
quietly  amusing  themselves  in  another  part  of  the  palace,  uncon- 
scious of  what  was  passing.  The  king  and  the  Princess  Amelia 
were  at  commerce,  below  stairs :  the  queen,  in  another  apartment, 
was  at  quadrille ;  and  the  Princess  Caroline  and  Lord  Hervey 
were  soberly  playing  at  cribbage.  They  separated  at  ten,  and 
were  all  in  bed  by  eleven,  perfectly  ignorant  of  what  had  been  go- 
ing on  so  near  them. 

At  a  little  before  two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  Mrs.  Tichbome 
entered  the  royal  bed-chamber,  when  the  queen  waking  in  alarm, 
asked  her  if  the  palace  was  on  fire.  The  faithful  servant  intimated 
that  the  prince  had  just  sent  word  that  her  royal  highness  was  on 
the  point  of  becoming  a  mother.  A  courier  had  just  arrived,  in 
fact,  with  the  intelligence.  The  queen  leai)ed  out  of  bed  and  called 
for  her  "  morning  gown,"  wherein  to  hurry  to  the  room  of  her 
daughter-in-law.  When  Tichbome  intimated  that  she  would  need 
a  coach  as  well  as  a  gown,  for  that  her  royal  highness  had  been 
carried  off  to  St.  James's,  the  queen's  astonishment  and  indignation 
were  equally  great.  On  the  news  being  communicated  to  the 
king,  his  surprise  and  wrath  were  not  less  than  the  queen's,  but  he 
did  not  fail  to  blame  his  consort  as  well  as  his  son.  She  had  al- 
lowed herself  to  be  out-witted,  he  said  ;  a  false  child  would  despoil 
her  own  offspring  of  their  rights ;  and  this  was  the  end  of  all  her 
boasted  aire  and  management  for  the  interests  of  her  son  William ! 
He  hoped  that  Anne  would  come  from  Holland  and  scold  her. 
"  You  deserve,"  he  exclaimed,  "•  anything  she  can  say  to  you." 
The  queen  answered  little,  lest  it  should  im})ede  her  in  her  haste 
to  reach  London.  In  half  an  hour  she  had  left  the  palace  accogi- 
panied  by  her  two  daughters,  and  attended  by  two  ladies  and  three 
noblemen.     The  party  reached  St.  James's  by  four  o'clock. 

As  they  ascended  the  staircase,  Lord  Hervey  invited  her 
majesty  to  take  chocolate  in  his  apartments,  after  she  had  visited 
the  princess.  The  queen  replied  to  the  invitation  "  with  a  wink," 
and  a  significant  intimation  that  she  certainly  would  refuse  to 


CAROLINE   WILHELMINA    DOROTHEA. 


335 


accept  of  any  refreshment  at  the  hands  of  her  son.     One  would 
almost  suppose  that  she  expected  to  be  poisoned  by  him. 

The  prince  attired,  according  to  the  hour,  in  nightgown  and  cap, 
met  his  august  mother  as  she  approached  his  apartments,  and 
kissed  her  hand  and  cheek,  according  to  the  mode  of  his  country 
and  times.     He  then  entered  garrulously  into  details  that  would 
have  shocked  the  delicacy  of  a  monthly-nurse,  but  as  Caroline 
i-emarked,  she  knew  a  good  many  of  them  to  be  "  lies."     She  was 
cold  and  reserved  to  the  prince,  but  when  she  approached  the  bed- 
side of  the  princess,  she  sjioke  to  her  gently  and  kindly,— womanly 
in  short ;  and  concluded  by  expressing  a  fear  that  her  royal  high- 
ness liad  suffered  extremely,  and  a  hope  that  she  was  now  doing 
well.     The  lady  so  sympathizingly  addressed,  answered  somewhat 
flippantly,  that  she   had  scarcely  suffered  anything,  and  that  the 
matter  in  question  was  almost  nothing  at  all.    Caroline  transferred 
her  sympathy  from  the  young  mother  to  her  new-born  child.    The 
latter  was  put  into  the  queen's  arms.     She  looked  upon  it  silently 
for   a   moment,   and   then    exclaimed   in    French,    her   ordinary 
language,  "May  the  good  Gotl  bless  you,  poor  little  creature; 
here  you  are  arrived  in  a  most  disagreeable  worid."     The  wish 
failed,  but  the  assertion  was  true.    The  "poor  little  creature"  was 
cursed  with  a  long  tenure  of  life,  during  which  she  saw  her  hus- 
band deprived  of  his  inheritance,  heard  of  his  violent  death,  and 
l)ai1icii)ated  in  family  sorrow,  heavy  and  undeserved. 

After  pitying  the  daughter  thus  bom,  and  commisserating  the 
mother  who  bore  her,  Caroline  was  condemned  to  listen  to  the  too 
minute  details  of  the  journey  and  its  incidents,  made  by  her  son. 
She  turned  from  these  to  shower  her  indignation  upon  those  who 
had  aided  in  the  flight,  and  without  whose  succor  the  flight  itself 
could  hardly  have  been  accomplished.     She  directed  her  indigna- 
tion by  turns  upon  all,  but  she  let  it  descend  with  peculiar  heavi- 
ness upon  Lady  Archibald  Hamilton,  and  made  it  all  the  more 
pungent   by    the    comment,   that,   considering   Lady  Archibald's 
mature  age,  and  her  having  been  the  mother  of  ten  children,  she 
had  years  enough,  and  experience  enough,  and  offspring  enough, 
to  have  taught  her  better  things,  and  greater  wisdom.     To  all 
these  winged  words,  the  lady  attacked  answered  no  further  than 


336 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


CAROLINE  WILHELMINA  DOROTHEA. 


by  turning  to  the  prince,  and  repeating,  "  You  see,  sir!"  as  though 
she  would  intimate  that  she  had  done  all  she  could  to  turn  him 
from  the  evil  of  his  ways,  and  had  gained  only  unmerited  reproach 
for  the  exercise  of  a  virtue,  which,  in  this  case,  was  likely  to  be 
its  own  and  its  only  reward ! 

The  prince  was  again  inclined  to  become  gossiping  and  offensive 
in  his  details,  but  his  royal  mother  cut  him  short  by  bidding  him 
get  to  bed  ;  and  with  this  message  by  way  of  farewell,  she  left  the 
room,  descended  the  staircase,  crossed  the  court  on  foot,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  Lord  Hervey's  apartments,  where  there  awaited  her 
gossip  more  welcome,  and  very  superior  chocolate. 

Over  their  ^  cups,"  right  merry  were  the  queen  and  her  gallant 
vice-chamberlain,  at  the  extreme  folly  of  the  royal  son.  They 
were  too  merry  for  Caroline  to  be  indignant,  further  than  her 
indignation  could  be  shown  by  designiiting  her  son  by  the  very 
rudest  possible  of  names,  and  showitig  her  contempt  for  all  who 
had  helped  him  in  the  night's  escapade.  She  acknowledged  her 
belief  that  no  foul  play  had  taken  place,  chiefly  because  the  child 
was  a  daughter.  This  circumstance  was  in  itself  no  proof  of  the 
genuineness  of  the  little  lady,  for  if  Frederick  had  been  desirous 
of  setting  aside  his  brother  William,  his  mother's  favorite,  from  all 
hope  of  succeeding  to  the  throne,  the  birth  of  a  daughter  wa^  quite 
as  suflSicient  for  the  purpose  as  that  of  a  son.*  The  queen  com- 
forted herself  by  remarking  that,  at  all  events,  the  trouble  she  had 
taken  that  night  was  not  gratuitous.  It  would  at  least,  as  she 
delicately  remarked,  be  a  "good  grimace  for  the  public,"  who 
would  contrast  her  parental  anxiety  with  the  marital  cruelty  and 
the  filial  undutifulness  of  the  Prince  of  Wales. 

TNTiile  tliis  genial  pair  were  thus  enjoying  their  chocolate  and 
gossip,  the  two  princesses,  and  two  or  three  of  the  noblemen  m 
attendance,  were  doing  the  siime  in  an  adjoining  apartment. 
Meanwhile  "\Valix)le  had  arrived,  and  had  been  closeted  with  the 
prince,  who  had  agjiin  had  the  supreme  felicity  of  narrating  to  the 
unwilling  listener  all  the  incidents  of  the  journey,  in  telling  which 
he,  in  fact,  gave  to  the  minister  the  opportunity  which  Gyges  was 

*   Hcrvey  makes  this  remark,  but  it  was  originally  made  by  Walpulc. 


337 


afforded  by  Candaules,  or  something  very  like  it,  and  for  which 
Frederick  merited,  if  not  the  fate  of  the  heathen  husband,  at  least 
the  next  severe  penalty  short  of  it. 

The  sun  was  up  long  before  the  royal  and  illustrious  party  dis- 
persed. The  busy  children  of  industry,  who  saw  the  queen  and 
her  equipage  sweep  by  them  along  the  Western  Road,  must  have 
been  perplexed  with  attempts  at  guessing  at  the  causes  of  her 
majesty  being  so  eariy  abroad,  in  so  way-worn  a  guise.  The  last 
thing  they  could  then  have  conjectured  was  the  adventure  of  the 
night ;— the  scene  at  Hampton  Court,  the  flight  of  the  son  with 
his  wife,  the  pursuit  of  the  royal  mother  with  her  two  daughters, 
the  occurrence  at  St.  James's— or,  indeed,  any  of  the  incidents  of 
the  stirring  drama  that  had  been  played  out. 

From  the  hour  when  royalty  had  been  suddenly  aroused,  to 
that  at  which  the  queen  arrived  at  Hampton  Court  Palace,  eight 
in  the  morning,  George  II.  had  troubled  himself  as  little  with 
conjecturing,  as  his  subjects.  When  the  queen  detailed  to  him  aU 
that  had  passed,  he  poured  out  the  usual  amount  of  paternal  wrath ; 
—and  of  the  usual  quality.  He  never  was  nice  of  epithet,  and 
least  of  all  when  he  had  any  to  bestow  upon  his  son.  It  was  not 
spared  now,  and  what  was  most  liberally  given  was  most  bitter  o. 
quality. 

Meanwhile,  \mh  prince  and  princess  addressed  to  their  majes- 
ties explanatory  notes  in  French,  which  explained  nothing,  and 
which,  as  far  a.s  regards  the  prince's  notes,  were  in  poor  French, 
and  worse  spelling.  Everything,  of  course,  had  been  done  for  the' 
best ;  and  the  sole  regret  of  the  younger  couple  was,  that  they  had 
somehow,  they  could  not  devise  how,  or  wherefore,  incurred  the 
displeasure  of  the  king  and  queen.  To  be  restored  to  tlio  good 
opinion  of  the  latter,  was  of  course  the  one  object  of  the  invo- 
luntary offenders'  live^.  In  short,  they  had  had  their  way,  and 
having  enjoyed  that  exquisite  felicity,  they  were  not  reluctant  to 
pretend  that  they  were  extremely  penitent  for  what  had  passed. 

The  displeasure  of  Cnrf.Iin  •  and  her  consort  at  the  unfeeling 
conduct  of  Frederick,  was  made  known  to  hun  neither  in  a  sudden 
nor  an  undignified  way.  It  was  not  till  the  10th  of  September 
that  it  may  be  said  to  have  been  officiaUy  conveyed  to  him.     On 


388 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


that  day  the  king  and  queen  sent  a  message  to  him  from  Hampton 
Court,  by  the  Dukes  of  Grafton  and  Richmond,  and  the  Earl  of 
Pembroke,  who  faithfully  acquitted  themselves  of  their  unwelcome 
commission  at  St.  James's.     The  message  was  to  the  effect,  that 
"  the  whole  tenor  of  the  prince's  conduct  for  a  considerable  time 
had  been  so  entirely  void  of  all  real  duty,  that  their  majesties  had 
long  had  reason  to  be  highly  offended  with  him;  and,  until  he 
withdrew  his  regard  and  confidence  from  those  by  whose  insti- 
gation and  advice  he  was  directed  and  encouraged  in  his  unwar- 
rantable behavior  to  his   majesty  and  the  queen ;   and  until  he 
should  return  to  his  duty,  he  should  not  reside  in  a  palace  belong- 
ing to  the  king,  which  his  majesty  would  not  suffer  to  be  the  resort 
of  those  who,  under  the  appearance  of  an  attachment  to  the  prince, 
fomented  the  divisions  which  he  had  made  in  his  family,  and 
thereby  weakened  the    common   interest  of  the   whole."     Their 
majesties  further  made  known  their  pleasure,  that  "the  prince 
should  leave  St.  James's,  with  all  his  family  when  it  could  be  done 
without  prejudice  or  inconvenience  to  the  princess."     His  majesty 
added,  that  "  he  should,  for  the  present,  leave  the  care  of  his 
granddaughter  until  a  proper  time  called  upon  him  to  consider  of 
her   education."      In    consequence   of  this   message,   the   prince 
removed  to  Kew  on  the  14th  September. 

The  king  and  queen,  now,  not  only  treated  their  son  with  extra- 
ordinary severity,  and  spoke  of  him  in  the  coarsest  possible  lan- 
guage, but  they  treated  in  like  manner  all  who  were  suspected  of 
aiding  and  counselling  him.  Their  wrath  was  especially  directed 
against  Lord  Carteret,  who  had  at  first  deceived  them.  That  noble 
lord  censured,  in  their  hearing,  a  course  of  conduct  in  the  prince 
which  he  had  himself  suggested,  and,  in  the  hearing  of  the  heir- 
apparent,  never  failed  to  praise.  When  their  majesties  discovered 
this  double  dealing,  and  that  an  attempt  was  being  made  to  con- 
vince the  people  that  in  the  matter  of  the  birth  of  the  princess-royal, 
the  queen  alone  was  to  blame  for  all  the  disagreeable  incidents 
attending  it,  their  anger  was  extreme.  The  feeling  for  Lord  Car- 
teret was  shown  when  Lord  Hervey  one  day  spoke  of  him  with 
some' commiseration, — his  son  having  run  away  from  school,  and 
there  being  no  intelligence  of  him,  except  that  he  had  formed  a 


CAROLINE  WILHELMINA    DOROTHEA. 


339 


very  improper  marriage.  "  Why  do  you  pity  hhn  ?"  said  the  king 
to  Lord  Hervey;  "I  think  it  is  a  very  just  punishment,  that, 
while  he  is  acting  the  villanous  part  he  does  in  debauching  the 
minds  of  other  people's  children,  he  should  feel  a  little  what  it  is 
to  have  an  undutiful  puppy  of  a  son  himself!" 

Fierce,  indeed,  was  the  family  feud,  and  undignified  as  fierce. 
The  princess  Amelia  is  said  to  have  taken  as  double-sided  a  line 
of  conduct  as  Lord  Carteret  himself;  for  which  she  incurred  the 
ill  will  of  both  parties.     The  prince  declared  not  only  that  he  never 
would  trust  her  again,  but  that,  should  he  ever  be  reconciled  with 
the  king  and  queen,  his  first  care  should  be  to  inform  them  that 
she  had  never  said  so  much  harm  of  him  to  them,  as  she  had  of 
them  to  him.     The  Princess  Caroline  was  the  more  fierce  a  par- 
tisan of  the  mother  whom  she  loved,  from  the  fact  that  she  saw 
how  her  brother  was  endeavoring  to  direct   the  public   feeling 
against  the  queen.     She  wa.s,  however,  as  little  dignified  in  her 
fierceness  as  the  rest  of  her  family.     On  one  occasion,  as  Desno- 
yers  the  danciiig  master  had  concluded  his  lesson  to  the  young 
princesses,  and  was  about  to  return  to  the  prince,  who  made  of 
him  a  constant  companion,  the  Princess  Caroline  bade  him  inform 
his  patron,  if  the  latter  should  ever  ask  him  what  was  thought  of 
his  conduct  by  her,  that  it  was  her  opinion  that  he  and  all  who 
were  with  him,  except  the  Princess  of  Wales,  deserved  hanjrin^r. 
Desnoyers  delivered  the  message,  with  the  assurances  of  respect 
given  by  one  who  acquits  himself  of  a  disagreeable  commission  to 
one  whom  he  regards.     "How  did  the  prince  take  it?"  asked 
Caroline,  when  next    Desnoyers   appeared   at   Hampton    Court. 
"  Well,  madam,"  said  the  dancing  master,  "  he  first  spat  in  the  fire, 
and  then  observed,  "  Ah,  ah !  Desnoyers ;  you  know  the  way  of 
that  Caroline.     That  is  just  like  her.     She  is  always  like  that!" 
"  Well,  M.  Desnoyers,"  remarked  the  princess,  "  when  next  you 
see  him  again,  tell  him  that  I  think  his  observation  is  as  foolish  as 
his  conduct."  ♦ 

The  exception  made  by  the  Princess  Caroline  of  the  Princess 
of  Wales,  in  the  censure  distributed  by  the  former,  was  not  unde- 

*  Those  who  arc  fond  of  further,  and  of  fuller,  details  of  domestic  broilg, 
like  the  above,  are  referred,  once  more,  to  the  pages  of  Hervey. 


.11 


840 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


served.  She  was  the  mere  tool  of  her  husband,  who  made  no  con- 
fidante of  her,  had  not  yet  appreciated  her,  and  kept  her  in  the 
most  complete  ignorance  of  all  that  was  happening  around  her,  and 
much  of  which  immediately  concerned  her.  He  used  to  speak  of 
the  office  of  wife  in  the  very  coarsest  terms ;  and  did  not  scruple 
to  declare  that  he  would  riot  be  such  a  fool  as  his  father  was,  who 
allowed  himself  to  be  ruled  and  deceived  by  his  consort. 

In  the  meantime,  he  treated  his  mother  with  mingled  contempt 
and  hypocrisy.  When,  nine  days  after  the  birth  of  the  little  Prin- 
cess Augusta,  the  queen  and  her  two  daughters  again  visited  the 
Princess  of  Wales,  the  prince,  who  met  her  at  the  door  of  the  bed- 
chamber, never  uttered  a  single  word  during  the  period  his  mother 
remained  in  the  room. 

He  was  as  silent  to  his  sisters ;  but  he  was  "  the  agreeable  Rat- 
tle" with  the  members  of  the  royal  suite.     The  queen  remained 
an  hour ;  and  when  she  remarked  that  she  was  afraid  she  was 
troublesome,  no  word  fell  from  the  prince  or  princess  to  persuade 
her  to  the  contrary.    When  the  royal  carriage  had  arrived  to  con- 
duct  her  away,  her  son  led  her  down  stairs,  and  at  the  coach  door, 
"  to  make  the  mob  believe  that  he  was  never  wanting  in  any  re- 
spect, he  kneeled  down  in  the  dirty  street,  and  kissed  her  hand. 
As  soon  as  this  operation  was  over,  he  put  her  majesty  into  the 
coach,  and  then  returned  to  the  steps  of  his  own  door,  leaving  his 
sisters  to  get  through  the  dirt  and  the  mob  by  them.<selves  as'they 
could.    Nor  did  there  come  to  the  queen  any  message,  either  from 
the  pnnce  or  princess,  to  thank  her  aftenvards  for  the  trouble  she 
had  taken,  or  for  the  honor  she  had  done  them  in  this  visit."    This 
was  the  la.<t  time  the  mother  and  son  met  in  this  worid.     Horace 
Walpole  has  committed  a  slight  anachronism  in  antedating  the 
scene,^  but  of  it  he  well  obser>-es,  that  it  must  have  caused  the 
queen's  mdignation  to  shrink  into  mere  contempt."* 

The  queen's  wrath  never  subsided  beyond  a  cold  expression  of 
forgiveness  to  the  prince,  when  she  was  on  her  death-bed.     But 
she  resolutely  refused  to  see  him  when  that  solemn  hour  arrived 
a  few  months  subsequently.     She  was  blamed  for  this ;  but  her 

*  Reminiscences  of  the  Courts  of  George  the  First  and  Second. 


CAROLINE  WILHELMINA  DOROTHEA. 


841 


contempt  was  too  deeply  rooted  to  allow  her  to  act  otherwise  to 
one  who  had  done  all  he  could  to  embitter  the  peace  of  his  father. 
She  sent  to  him,  it  is  said,  her  blessing  and  pardon ; — "  but  con- 
ceiving the  extreme  distress  it  would  lay  on  the  king,  should  he 
thus  be  forced  to  forgive  so  impenitent  a  son,  or  to  banish  him  if 
once  recalled,  she  heroically  preferred  a  meritorious  husband,  to  a 
worthless  child."  * 

Had  the  prince  been  sincere  in  his  expressions  when  addressing 
either  of  his  parents,  by  letter,  after  the  delivery  of  his  wife,  it  is 
not  imjKjssible  but  that  a  reconciliation  might  have  followed.  His 
studied  disrespect  towards  the  queen  was,  however,  too  strongly 
marked  to  allow  of  this  conclusion  to  the  quarrel.  He  invariably 
omitted  to  speak  of  her  as  "  your  majesty  ; "  Madam,  and  you,  were 
the  simple  and  familiar  terms  employed  by  him.  Indeed,  he  had 
once  told  her  that  he  considered  that  the  Prince  of  Wales  took 
precedence  of  the  queen-consort ;  at  which  Caroline  would  con- 
temptuously laugh,  and  assure  her  "dear  Fritz"  that  he  need  not 
press  the  point,  for  even  if  she  were  to  die,  the  king  could  not 
marry  him  / 

It  was  for  mere  annoyance'  sake  that  he  declared,  at  the  end  of 
August,  after  the  christening  of  his  daughter,  that  she  should  not 
be  called  the  "  Princess  Augusta,"  but  the  "  Lady  Augusta,"  ac- 
cording to  the  old  English  fashion.  At  the  same  time  he  declared 
that  she  should  be  styled  "  Your  Royal  Highness,"  although  such 
style  had  never  been  used  towards  his  own  sisters,  before  their 
father's  accession  to  the  crown. 

It  will  haixlly  be  thought  necessary  to  go  through  the  document- 
ary history  of  what  passed  between  the  sovereigns  and  their  son, 
before  he  was  finally  ejected  from  St.  James's  Palace.  Wrong  as 
he  was  in  this  quarrel,  "  Fritz"  kept  a  better  temper,  though  with 
as  bitter  a  spirit  as  his  parents.  On  the  13th  of  September,  the 
day  before  that  fixed  on  for  the  prince's  departure,  "  the  queen,  at 
breakfast,  every  now  and  then  repeated,  /  hope  in  God  I  shall 
never  see  him  again ;  and  the  king,  among  many  other  paternal 
douceurs  in  his  valediction  to  his  son,  said :  Thank  God,  to-morrow 

*  Lord  Hervey. 


342 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


mght  the  puppy  wiU  be  out  of  my  house."  The  queen  thought 
her  son  would  rather  like,  than  otherwise,  the  being  made  a  mL 
tyr  of ;  bu  It  was  represented  to  her,  that  however  much  it  might 
W  smted  h.m  to  be  made  one  pohtieally,  there  was  more  disgrace 
to  hmi  personally  in  the  present  expulsion  than  he  would  like  to 
fn  fi  ^*  J  ^"^  mamtamed  that  his  son  had  not  sense  of  his  own 
to  find  tins  out;  and  that  as  he  listened  only  to  boobies,  fools,  and 
madmen,  he  was  not  likely  to  have  his  case  truly  rep^sent  d  to 

S    .  f  T      ;^      '  ^"°  ^  ^^'""^^  ^^^  ^^^  ''  ^-  '  on's  house, 
anl  iir      f",      r"""'"  ^^  '''  '^""  ^'  ^^-«  ^  coxcombical 
boobv     T  '  TlT  ."  ""*'' '  "^^^  Townshend,  for  a  proud,  surly 
booby;  Lord  North,  as  a  poor  creature;  Lord  Baltimore,  as  a 
trimmer;  and  "Johnny  Lumley,"  (the  brother   of  Lord   Scar! 
borough)  as,  ,f  nothing  else,  at  least  "a  stuttering  puppy."    Such 
It  IS  said  were  the  followers  of  a  prince,  of  whom  his  I'oyal  mother' 
remarked,  that  he  was  "a  mean  fool,"  and  " a poor-spirited  beast." 
While  this  discussion  was  at  its  hottest,  the  queen  fell  ill  of  the 
gou  .     She  was  so  unwell,  so  weary  of  being  in  bed,  and  so  desirous 
of  cha  ting  with  Lord  Ilervey,  tluit  she  now  for  the  first  time  broke 
through  the  court  etiquette,  which  would  not  admit  a  man,  save  the 
sovereign,  into  the  royal  bed-chamber.     The  noble  lord  was  with 
her  there  during  the  whole  day  of  each  day  that  her  confinement 
W     She  was  too  old,  she  said,  to  have  the  honor  of  being 
telked  of  for  It;  and  so,  to  suit  her  humor,  the  old  ceremony  wal 
dispensed  With.     Lord  Hervey  sate  by  her  bed-side,  gossiped  the 
hve-long  day  ;  and  on  one  occasion,  when  the  Prince  of  Wales  sent 
Lord  Jsorth  with  a  message  of  inquiry  after  her  heahh,  he  amused 
the  queen  by  turning  the  message  into  very  slip-shod  verse,  the 
pomt  of  .vliich  IS  at  once  obscure  and  ill-natured,  but  which  seems 
to  imply  that  the  prince  would  have  been  well  content,  had  the  gout, 
instead  of  being  in  her  foot,  attacked  her  stomach. 

The  pnnce  had  been  guilty  of  no  such  indecency  as  this;  but 
there  was  no  lack  of  provocation  to  make  him  commit  himself. 
W  hen  he  was  turned  out  of  St.  James's,  he  was  not  permitted  to 
ake  with  him  a  single  article  of  furniture.  The  royal  excuse  was, 
hat  the  funnture  had  been  purchased,  on  the  prince's  marriage,  at 
the  king  s  cost,  and  was  his  majesty's  property.     It  was  suggested, 


CAROLINE  WILHELMINA    DOROTHEA. 


343 


that  sheets  ought  not  to  be  considered  as  furniture  ;  and  that  the 
prince  and  princess  could  not  be  expected  to  carry  away  their  dirty 
linen  in  baskets.  "  Why  not  ?"  asked  the  king,  "  it  is  good  enough 
for  them !" 

Such  were  the  petty  circumstances  with  which  Caroline  and  her 
consort  troubled  themselves  at  the  period  in  question.  They  at 
once  hurt  their  own  dignity,  and  made  their  son  look  ridiculous. 
The  great  partisan  of  the  latter  (Lord  Baltimore)  did  not  rescue 
his  master  from  ridicule  by  comparing  his  conduct  to  that  of  the 
heroic  Charles  Xll.  of  Sweden.  .  But  the  comparison  was  one  to 
be  expected  from  a  man  whom  the  king  had  declared  to  be  in  a 
great  degree,  a  booby,  and  in  a  trifiing  degree,  mad. 

As  soon  as  the  prince  had  established  himself  at  Kew,  he  was 
waited  on  by  Lord  Cartaret,  Sir  William  Wyndham,  and  Mr. 
Pulteney.  The  king  could  not  conceal  liis  anger  under  an  affected 
contempt  of  these  persons  or  of  their  master.  He  endeavored  to 
satisfy  himself  by  abusing  the  latter,  and  by  remarking  that  "  they 
would  be  soon  tired  of  the  puppy,  who  was,  moreover,  a  scoundrel 
and  a  fool ;  and  who  would  talk  more  fiddle-faddle  to  them  in  a 
day  than  any  old  woman  talks  in  a  week." 

The  prmce  continued  to  address  letters  both  to  the  king  and 
queen,  full  of  aftected  concern,  expressed  in  rather  impertinent 
phrases.  The  princess  addressed  others,  in  which  she  sought  to 
justify  her  husband's  conduct ;  but  as  in  all  these  notes  there  was 
a  studied  disrespect  of  Caroline,  the  king  would  neither  consent  to 
grant  an  audience  to  the  offenders,  nor  would  the  queen  interfere 
to  induce  him  to  relent. 

The  queen,  indeed,  did  not  scruple  to  visit  with  her  displeasure 
all  those  courtiers  who  showed  themselves  inclined  to  bring  about 
a  reconciliation ;  and  yet  she  manifested  some  leaning  towards  Lord 
Cartaret,  the  chief  agent  of  her  son.  .  This  disposition  alarmed 
Walpole,  who  took  upon  himself  to  remind  her,  that  her  minister 
could  serve  her  purpose  better  than  her  son's,  and  that  it  was  of 
the  utmost  importance  that  she  should  conquer  in  this  strife.  "  Is 
your  son  to  be  bought  ?"  said  Walpole.  "  If  you  will  buy  him,  I 
will  get  him  cheaper  than  Cartaret."  Caroline  answered  only  with 
**  a  flood  of  grace,  good  words,  favor,  and  professions,"  of  having 


344 


LIVKS  or  THE  QUEENS    OF  ENGLAND. 


full  confidence  in  her  own  minister,  that  is,  Walpole  himself,  who 
had  served  her  so  long  and  so  faithfully. 

tivt  Tf  "^  ^r'^'?,  f^'"''''""  ""^  '•"'■*  ^  mentioned,  as  indica- 
ve  of  how  she  could  help  to  build  up  her  own  reputation  for 
shrewdness  by  using  the  materials  of  others.  Sir  Robert  Walpole 
m  conversatton  with  Lord  Hervey,  gave  him  some  account  o^t' 
".^rv,e>v  he  had  had  with  the  queen.  The  kst-named  gen.leml^ 
bebeved  all  the  great  minister  had  t«l,l  hi™  i  b^""t-nian 

her^plf  l.„,7  •  1  •        ""''^'^  "*'•  ™'"  nim,  because  the  queen 

hei^elf  had,  m  speakmg  of  the  subject  to  Lord  Ilervey,  used  the 
prectse  terms  now  employed  by  Walpole.  The '  subjec  wL  the 
lukewarmness  of  some  of  the  noblemen  about  court  to  serve  the 
n^^L^lT^  T'^  was,-"  People  who  keep  hounds  must 
no  liang  every  one  that  runs  a  little  slower  than  the  rest,  provided, 
m  the  mam,  they  will  go  with  the  pack ;  one  must  not  expect  them 

pole  of  the  use  made  by  the  queen  of  this  phrase,  and  Sir  Robert 

she  lepeated  as  her  own  any  notion  he  had  endeavored  to  infuse 
bemuse  n  was  a  sign  what  he  had  labored  had  taken  place."         ' 
Meanwhile  the  prince  was  of  himself  doing  little  that  could  tend 
o  any   h.ng  else  than  widen  the  breach  already  existing  between 
Inm  and  us  family.     He  spoke  aloud  of  whati  would  do  whn 
he  came  to  be  kmg.     His  intentions,  as  reported  by  Caroline  Tere 
that  she,  wOien  she  was  queen-dowager,  shVuld  be  "  fleec  d  flrved' 
and  mmced  '     The  Princess  Amelia  was  to  be  kept  in  strict  Ln 
finement;  the  Princess  Caroline  left  to  starve;  of  the  li  Ue  pria 
cesses,  Mary  and  Louisa,  then  about  fourteen  and  thine  nyTa^s" 
of  age,  he  made  no  mention ;  and  of  his  brother,  the  DukeTf 

De  oS      ""T  '"^'^  "  ^^**  »--'»«--'atio;  of  kindness  .' 
I)e,p,te  this  imprudent  conduct,  endeavors  continued  to  be  made 

hon  which  nobody  seemed  veiy  sincere  in  desiring.  The  Duke  of 
Newcastle  had  implored  the  Princess  Amelia,  "  For  God's  si  -  » 
to  do  her  utmost  -  to  persuade  the  queen  to  make  things  up  wiA 
^he  pnnee,  before  this  aifair  was  pushed  to  an  extremity  that  mTg  it 
make  the  wound  incurable."  The  queen  is  said  to  have  been  L 
eeedmgly  displeased  with  the  Duke  of  Newcastle  for  thus  interfX 


CAROLINE  WILHELMINA  DOROTHEA. 


315 


in  the  matter.     The  Princess  of  Wales,  however,  continued  to  write 
hurried,  and  apparently  earnest,  notes  to  the  queen,  thanking  her 
for  her  kindness  in  standing  godmother  to  her  daughter,  treating 
her  with  "  your  majesty,"  and  especially  defending  her  own  husband, 
while  affecting  to  deplore  that  his  conduct,  misrepresented,  had 
incurred  the  displeasure  of  their  majesties : — "  I  am  deeply  afflicted," 
so  runs  a  note  of  the  17th  of  September,  "  at  the  manner  in  which 
the  prince's  conduct  has  been  represented  to  your  majesties,  espe- 
cially with  regard  to  the  two  journeys  which  we  made  from  Hampton 
Court  to  London,  the  week  previous  to  my  confinement.     I  dare 
assure  your  majesties,  that  the  medical  man,  and  midwife,  were 
then  of  opinion,  that  I  should  not  be  confined  before  the  month  of 
September,  and  that  the  indisposition  of  which  I  complained  was 
nothing  more  than  the  colic.     And  besides,  madam,  is  it  credible, 
that  if  I  had  gone  twice  to  London,  with  the  design,  and  in  the 
expectation,  of  being  confined  there,  I  should  have  returned  to 
Hampton  Court.     I  fiatter  myself  that  time,  and  the  good  offices  of 
your  majesty,  will  bring  about  a  happy  change  in  a  situation  of 
affairs,  the  more  deplorable  for  me,  inasmuch  as  I  am  the  innocent 

cause  of  it."  Sec.  &c. 

This  letter,  delivered  as  the  king  and  queen  were  going  to  chapel, 
was  sent  by  the  latter  to  Walpole,  who  repaired  to  the  royal  closet, 
in  the  chapel,  whei-e  Caroline  asked  him  what  he  thought  of  this 
last  performance  ?  The  answer  was  very  much  to  the  purpose. 
Sir  Robert  said,  he  detected,  "you  lie,  you  lie,  you  lie,  from  one 
end  of  it  to  the  other."  Caroline  agreed  that  the  lie  was  flung  at 
her  by  the  writer. 

There  was  as  much  discussion  touching  the  reply,  which  should 
be  sent  to  this  grievously  offending  note,  as  if  it  had  been  a  proto- 
col of  the  very  first  importance.  One  was  for  having  it  smart, 
another  formal,  another  so  shaped  that  it  should  kindly  treat  the 
princess  as  blameless,  and  put  an  end  to  further  correspondence, 
with  some  general  wishes  as  to  the  future  conduct  of  "  Fritz." 
This  was  done,  and  the  letter  was  dispatched.  What  effect  it  had 
upon  the  conduct  and  person  alluded  to,  may  be  discerned  in  the 
fact,  that  when,  on  Thursday,  the  22d  of  September,  the  prince 
and  princess  received  at  Carlton  House,  the  lord  mayor  and  corpo- 


346 


LIVES  OF  THK  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


poration  of  London,  with  an  address  of  congratulation  on  the  birth 
of  he  Pnncess  Augusta,  the  lords  of  the  prince's  present  councU 
distributed  to  every  body  in  the  room  copies  of  the  king's  messa..e 
to  the  prince,  ordering  him  to  quit  St.  James's,  and  containin-^  re- 
flections against  all  persons  who  might  even  visit  the  prince.  The 
lords  particularly  the  Duke  of  Marlborough,  and  Lords  Chesterfield 
and  Cartaret,  deplored  the  oppression  under  which  the  Prince  of 
Wales  struggled.  His  Highness  also  spoke  to  the  citizens  in  terms 
calculated,  certainly  intended  to  win  their  favor. 

He  did  not  acquire  aU  the  popukr  favor  he  expected.     Thus 
when,  during  the  repairs  at  Carlton  House,  he  occupied  the  resi- 
dence of  the  Duke  of  xXorfolk,  in  St.  James's.squan>-a  residence 
which  the  duke  and  duchess  refused  to  let  to  him,  until  they  had 
obtained  the  sanction  of  the  king  and  queen-"  he  reduced  the 
number  of  his  inferior  servants,  which  made  him  many  enemies 
among  the  lower  sort  of  people."     He  also  diminished  his  stud, 
and  -farmed  all  his  tables,  even  that  of  the  princess  and  himself" 
In  other  words,  his  tables  were  supplied  by  a  cook  at  so  much  per 
head.      Ihis  fashion  was  common  enough   with  several   of  the 
Ivussian  Czars. 

His  position  was  one,  however,  which  was  sure  to  procure  for 
him  a  degree  of  popularity,  irrespective  of  his  real  merits.  The 
latter,  however,  were  not  great  nor  numerous,  and  even  his  omi 
officers  considered  their  interests  far  before  those  of  him  they 
served--or  deserted.  At  the  theatre,  however,  he  was  the  popular 
hero  of  the  liour,  and  when  once,  on  being  present  at  the  repre- 
sentation  of ''  Cato,"  *  the  words 

When  vice  prevails  and  impious  men  bear  sway. 
The  post  of  honor  is  a  private  station,— 

were  received  with  loud  huzzas,  the  prince  joined  in  the  applause, 
to  show  how  he  appreciated,  and  perhaps  applied,  the  line. 

Although  the  king's  alleged  oppression  towards  his  son  was 
pubbcly  canvassed  by  the  latter,  the  prince  and  his  followers  m- 
variably  named  the  queen  as  the  true  author  of  it.     The  latter,  in 

*  Qum  played  the  hero. 


CAROLINE  WILHELMINA   DOROTHEA. 


347 


commenting  on  this  filial  course,  constantly  sacrificed  her  dignity. 
"  My  dear  lord,"  said  Caroline,  once  to  Lord  Hervey,  "  I  will  give 
it  you  under  my  hand,  if  you  have  any  fear  of  my  relapsing,  that 
my  dear  first-born  is  the  greatest  ass,  and  the  greatest  liar,  and 
the  greatest  canaille,  and  the  greatest  beast,  in  the  whole  world, 
and  that  I  most  heartily  wish  he  was  out  of  it !"  The  king  con- 
tinued to  treat  him  in  much  the  same  strain,  adding  courteously, 
tliat  he  had  often  asked  the  queen,  if  the  beast  were  his  son. 
"  The  queen  was  a  great  while,"  said  he,  "  before  her  maternal 
aflection  would  give  him  up  for  a  fool,  and  yet  I  told  her  so  before 
he  had  been  acting  as  if  he  had  no  common  sense."  While  so 
hard  upon  the  conduct  of  their  son,  an  entry  from  Lord  Hervey^s 
diary  will  show  us  what  was  their  own :  the  king's  with  regard  to 
decency,  the  queen's  with  respect  to  truth. 

While  the  queen  was  talking  one  morning,  touching  George 
the  First's  will,  and  other  family  matters,  with  Lord  Hervey, 
"  The  king  opened  her  door  at  the  further  end  of  the  gallery ; 
upon  which  the  queen  chid  Lord  Hervoy  for  coming  so  late,  say- 
ing, that  she  had  several  things  to  say  to  him,  and  that  he  was 
always  so  long  in  coming,  after  he  was  sent  for,  that  she  never 
had  any  time  to  talk  with  him.  To  which  Lord  Hervey  replied, 
that  it  was  not  his  fault,  for  that  he  always  came  the  moment  he 
was  called ;  that  he  wished,  with  all  his  heart,  the  king  had  more 
love,  or  Lady  Deloraine  more  wit,  that  he  might  have  more  time 
with  her  majesty ;  but  that  he  thought  it  very  hard  that  he  should 
be  snubbed  and  reproved  because  the  king  was  old  and  Lady 
Deloraine  a  fool.  This  made  the  queen  laugh,  and  the  king 
asking,  when  he  came  up  to  her,  what  it  was  at,  she  said  it  was  at 
a  conversation  Lord  Hervey  was  reporting  between  the  prince  and 
Mr.  Lyttelton,  on  his  being  made  secretary;  and  left  Lord 
Hervey,  on  the  king's  desiring  him  to  repeat  it,  telling  Lord 
Hervey,  the  next  time  she  saw  him,  *  I  think  I  was  one  with  you 
for  your  impertinence."  To  which  Lord  Hervey  replied,  *  The 
next  time  you  serve  me  so,  madam,  perhaps  I  may  be  even  with 
you,  and  desire  your  majesty  to  repeat  as  well  as  report.'  "* 

♦  Lord  Hcrvev's  Memoirs. 


848      LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 

It  may  be  noticed  here,  that  both  Frederick  and  the  queen's 
party  pubhshed  copies  of  the  French  correspondence  which  had 
passed  between  the  two  branches  of  the  family  at  feud,  and  that  in 
the  translations  appended  to  the  letters,  each  party  was  equally 
unscrupulous  in  giving  such  turns  to  the  phrases  as  should  serve 
only  one  side,  and  injure  the  adverse  faction.     Bishop  Sherlock 
who  set  the  good  fasUon  of  residmg  much  within  his  o«-n  diocese' 
once  ventured  to  give  an  opinion  upon  the  prince's  conduct,  which,' 
at  least,  served  to  show  that  the  prelate  was  not  a  very  finished 
courtier.     Bishops  who  reside  within  their  dioceses,  xmd  trouble 
themselves  little  with  what  takes  place  beyond  it,  seldom  are. 
The  bishop  said  that  the  prince  had  lacked  able  counsellors,  had 
weakly  played  his  game  into  the  king's  hands,  and  made  a  blunder 
which  he  would  never  retrieve.     This  remark  provoked  Caroline 
to  say,-   I  hope,  my  lord,  this  is  not  the  way  you  intend  to 
speak  your  disapprobation  of  my  son's  measures  anywhere  else  • 
for  your  saying  that,  by  his  conduct  lately,  he  has  played  his 
game   into   the   king's   hands,   one  would   imagine  you   thought 
the  game  had  been  before  in  his  own ;  and  though  he  has  made 
his  .game  still  worse  than  it  was,  I  am  far  from  thinkin..  it  ever 
was  a  good  one,  or  that  he  had  ever  much  chance  to  win  "'' 

Caroline,  and   indeed   her  consort   also,  c-onjectured   that  the 
public  voice  and  opinion  were  expressed  in  favor  of  the  occupants 
of  the  throne  fi-om  the  fact,  that  the  birth-day  drawing-room  of  the 
rfOth  of  October  was  the  most  splendid  and  crowded  that  had  ever 
been  known  since  the  king's  accession.     That  king  himself  nro- 
bably  httle  cared  whether  he  were  popular  or  not.  lie  was  at  this 
time  buying  hundreds  of  lottery-tickets,  out  of  the  secret  service 
money,  and  makmg  presents  of  them  to  Madame  Walmoden      A 
few  feU,  perhaps,  to  the  share  of  Lady  Dcloraine :  "  He'll  ..ive 
her  a  couple  of  tickets,"  said  Walpole,  "  and  think  her  generously 
used.      His  majesty  would  have  rejoiced  if  he  could  liave  divided 
so  easily  his  double  possession  of  England  and  Hanover.     He  had 
long  entertained  a  wish  to  give  the  electorate  to  his  second  son 

rf  r  I  ^.T'"^^'""*''  ^"1  entertained  a  very  erroneous  idea 
that  the  English  parliament  would  assist  him  in  altering  the  law 
of  succession  in  the  electorate.   Caroline  had,  perhaps,  no°t  a  much 


CAROLINE  WII.HELMIN'A   DOROTHEA. 


349 


more  correctly  formed  idea.  She  had  a  conviction,  however, 
touching  her  son,  which  was  probably  better  founded.  "  I  knew," 
she  said,  "  he  would  sell  not  only  his  reversion  in  the  electorate, 
but  even  in  this  kingdom,  if  the  pretender  would  give  him  five  or 
six  hundred  thousand  jrounds  in  present ;  but,  thank  God !  he  has 
neither  right  nor  power  to  sell  his  family, — though  his  folly  and 
his  knavery  may  sometimes  distress  them."  * 


CHAPTER  Vni. 


DEATH    OF    CAROLINE. 

After  the  birth  of  the  Princess  Louisa,  on  the  12th  of  Decem- 
ber, 1724,  Caroline,  then  Princess  of  Wales,  was  more  than  ordi- 
narily indisposed.  Her  indisposition  was  of  such  a  nature  that, 
though  she  had  made  no  allusion  to  it  herself,  lier  husband  spoke 
to  her  on  the  subject.  The  princess  avoided  entering  upon  a 
discussion,  and  sought  to  satisfy  the  prince  by  remarking  that  her 
indisposition  was  nothing  more  than  what  was  common  to  her 
health,  position,  and  circumstances.  For  some  years,  although 
the  symptoms  were  neglected,  the  disease  was  not  aggravated. 
At  length  more  serious  indications  were  so  perceptible  to  George, 
who  was  now  king,  that  he  did  not  conceal  his  opinion  that  she 
was  suffering  from  rupture.  This  opinion  she  combated  with 
energy,  for  she  had  a  rooted  aversion  to  its  bemg  supposed  that 
she  was  afflicted  with  any  complaint.  She  feared  lest  the  fact, 
being  known,  might  lose  her  some  of  her  husband's  regard,  or 
lead  people  to  think  that  with  personal  infirmity  her  power  over 
him  had  been  weakened.  The  king  again  and  again  urged  her  to 
acknowledge  that  she  suffered  from  the  comphiint  he  had  named, 
and  to  have  medical  advice  on  the  subject.  Again  and  again  she 
refused,  and  each  time  with  renewed  expressions  of  displeasure, 
until  at  last,  the  king,  contenting  himself  with  expressing  a  hope 

*  This  matter,  only  alluded  to  by  Lord  Chesterfield,  is  treated  at  very  great 
lenjjth  bv  Ix)rd  Her\'ev. 


350 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS   OF  ENGLAND. 


that  she  would  not  have  to  repent  of  her  obstinacy,  made  her  a 
promise  never  to  allude  to  the  subject  again,  without  her  consent. 
Ihe  secret,  however,  was  necessarily  known  to  others  also;  and 
we  can  only  wonder  that,  being  so  known,  more  active  and 
effective  measures  were  not  taken  to  remedy  an  evil  which,  in  our 
days,  at  least,  formidable  as  it  may  api>ear  in  name,  is  so  success- 
fully  treated  a^  almost  to  deserve  no  more  serious  appellation  than 
a  mere  inconvenience. 

Under  an  appearance  of,  at  least,  fair  health.  Queen  Caroline 
may  be  said  to  have  been  gradually  decaying  for  years.    Her  pride 
and  her  courage  would  not,  however,  allow  of  this  being  seen,  and 
vvhen  she  rose,  as  was  her  custom,  to  curtsey  to  the  king,  not  even 
George  himself  was  a:ware  of  the  pain  the  effort  cost  her.     Sir 
Robert  Walpole  was  long  aware  that  she  suffered  greatly  from 
some  secret  malady,  and  it  was  not  till  after  a  long  period  of  ob- 
servation  that  he  succeeded  in  discovering  her  majesty's  secret. 
He  was  often  closeted  with  her,  arranging  business  that  they  were 
afterwards  to  nominally  transact  in  presence  of  the  king,  and  to 
settle,  as  he  imagined,  according  to  his  will  and  pleasure.     It  was 
on  some  such  occasion  that  Sir  Kobert  made  the  discovery  in  ques- 
tion.     The  minister's  wife  had  just  died ;  she  was  about  the  same 
age  as  Caroline,  and  the  queen  put  to  the  minister  such  close,  phy- 
sical questions,  and  adverted  so  frequently  to  the  subject  of  run- 
ture,  of  which  Sir  Robert's  wife  did  not  die,  that  the  minister  at 
once  came  to  the  conclusion  that  her  majesty  was  herself  sufferincr 
from  that  complaint.*     This  was  the  case:  but  the  fact  was  onl^ 
known  to  the  king  himself,  her  German  nurse  (Mrs.  Mailborne) 
and  one  other  person.    A  curious  scene  of\en  occurred  in  her  dre.t 
mg-room  and  the  adjoining  apartment.     During  the  process  of  the 
morning  toilette,  prayers  were  read  in  the  outer  room  by  her  ma- 
jesty's chaplain,  the  latter  kneeling  the  while  beneath  the  paintin.. 
of  a  nude  Veous-which,  as  Dr.  Madox,  a  royal  chaplain  on  sert 
vice,  once  observed,  was  a  "  verj^  proper  altar-piece."     On  these 
occasions,  Walpole  tells  us  that,  -to  prevent  all  suspicion,  her  ma- 
jesty would  frequently  stand  some  minutes  in  her  shift  talking  to 


*  Horace  Walpole. 


CAROLINE    WILHELMINA   DOROTHEA. 


351 


her  ladies,  and,  though  laboring  with  so  dangerous  a  complaint, 
she  made  it  so  invariable  a  rule  never  to  refuse  a  desire  of  the 
king,  that  every  morning,  at  Richmond,  she  walked  several  miles 
with  him ;  and  more  than  once,  when  she  had  the  gout  in  her  foot, 
she  dipped  her  whole  leg  in  cold  water  to  be  ready  to  attend  him! 
The  pain,  her  bulk,  and  the  exercise,  threw  her  into  such  fits  of 
perspiration  as  routed  the  gout ;  but  those  exertions  hastened  the 
crisis  of  her  distemper." 

In  the  summer  of  1737  she  suffered  so  seriously,  that  at  length, 
on  the  26th  of  August,  a  report  spread  over  the  town  that  the 
queen  was  dead.*  The  whole  city  at  once  assumed  a  guise  of 
mourning— gay  summer  or  cheerful  autumn  dresses  were  with- 
drawn from  the  shop  windows,  and  nothing  was  to  be  seen  in  their 
place  but  "  sables."  The  report,  however,  was  unfounded.  Her 
majesty  had  been  ill,  but  one  of  her  violent  remedies  had  restored 
her  for  the  moment.  She  was  thereby  enabled  to  walk  about 
Hampton  Court  with  the  king,  but  she  was  not  equal  to  the  task 
of  coming  to  London  on  the  29th  of  the  same  month,  when  her 
grand-daughter  Augusta  was  christened,  and  king,  queen,  and 
Duchess  of  Saxe-Gotha  stood  sponsors,  by  their  proxies,  to  the  fu- 
ture mother  of  a  future  queen  of  England. 

At  length,  in  November,  1737,  the  crisis  above  alluded  to  occur- 
red, and  Caroline's  illness  soon  assumed  a  very  grave  character. 
Her  danger,  of  which  she  was  well  aware,  did  not  cause  her  to 
lose  her  presence  of  mind,  nor  her  dignity,  nor  to  sacrifice  any 
characteristic  of  her  disposition  or  reigning  passion. 

It  was  on  Wednesday  morning,  the  9th  of  November,  that  the 
queen  was  seized  with  the  illness  which  ultimately  proved  fatal  to 
her.  She  was  distressed  with  violent  internal  pains,  which  Daffy's 
Elixir,  administered  to  her  by  Dr.  Tessier,  coiild  not  allay.  The 
violence  of  the  attack  compelled  her  to  return  to  bed  early  in  the 
morning ;  but  her  courage  was  great  and  the  king's  pity  small,  and 
consequently  she  rose,  after  resting  for  some  hours,  in  order  to 
preside  at  the  usual  Wednesday's  drawing-room.  The  king  had 
great  dislike  to  see  her  absent  from  this  ceremony ;  without  her, 


*  Salmon's  Chronological  Historian. 


352 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


he  used  to  say,  there  was  neither  grace,  gaiety,  nor  dignity ;  and 
accordingly,  she  went  to  this  last  duty  with  the  spirit  of  a  wounded 
kniglit  who  returns  to  the  field  and  dies  in  harness.     She  was  not 
able  long  to  endure  the  fatigue.     Lord  Hervcy  was  so  struck  by 
her  appearance  of  weakness  and  suffermg,  that  he  urged  her,  with 
friendly  peremptoriness,  to  retire  from  a  scene  for  u°hich  she  was 
evidently  unfitted.     The  queen  acknowledged  her  inability  to  con- 
tmue  any  longer  in  the  room,  but  she  could  not  well  break  up  the 
assembly  without  the  king,  who  was  in  another  part  of  the  room 
discussing  the  mirth  and  merits  of  the  last  uproarious  burlesque 
extravaganza,  "  The  Dragon  of  Wantley."     All  London  was  then 
fiockmg  to  Covent  Garden  to  hear  Lampe's  music  and  Carey's 
light  nonsense ;  and  Ryan's  Hamlet  was  not  half  so  much  cared 
for  as  Reinhold's  Dragon,  nor  Mrs.  Vincent's  Ophelia  so  much  es- 
teemed as  the  Margery  and  Mauxalinda  of  the  two  Miss  Youngs.* 
At  length  his  majesty  having  been  informed  of  the  queen's  seri- 
ous indisposition,  and  her  desire  to  withdraw,  took  her  by  the  hand 
to  lead  her  away,  roughly  noticing,  at  the  same  time,  that  she  had 
"  passed  over"  the  Duchess  of  Norfolk.     Caroline  innnediately  re- 
paired  her  fault  by  addressing  a  few  condescending  words  to  that 
old  well-wisher  of  her  family.     They  were  the  hist  words  she  ever 
uttered  on  the  public  scene  of  her  grandeur.     AH  that  followed 
was  the  undressing  after  the  great  drama  was  over. 

In  the  evening.  Lord  Ilervey  again  saw  her.  He  had  been 
dining  with  the  French  ambassador,  and  he  returned /rom  the  din- 
ner at  an  hour  at  which  people  now  dress  before  they  go  to  such  a 
ceremony.  He  was  again  at  the  palace  by  seven  o'clock.  His 
duty  authorized  him,  and  his  inclination  prompted"  him,  to  see  the 
queen.  He  found  her  suffering  from  increase  of  intenial  pains, 
violent  sickness,  and  progressive  weakness.  Cordials  and  various 
calming  remedies  were  prescribed,  and  while  they  were  being  pre- 
pared,  a  little  "usquebaugh"  was  administered  to  her;  but  neither 
whisky,  nor  cordials,  nor  -calming  draughts  could  be  retained 
Her  pains  increased,  and  therewith  her  strength  diminished.  She 
was  throughout  this  day  and  night  affectionately  attended  by  the 

*  Oeneste's  History  of  the  Drama. 


CAROLINE    WILHELMINA    DOROTHEA. 


853 


Princess  Caroline,  who  was  herself  in  extremely  weak  health,  but 
who  would  not  leave  her  mother's  bedside  till  two  o'clock  in  the 
morning.  The  king  then  relieved  her,  after  his  fashion,  which 
brought  rehef  to  no  one.  He  did  not  sit  up  to  watch  the  sufferer 
but,  in  his  morning-gown,  lay  outside  the  bed  by  the  queen's  side. 
Her  restlessness  was  very  great,  but  the  king  did  not  leave  her 
space  enough  even  to  turn  in  bed ;  and  he  was  so  uncomfortable 
that  he  was  kept  awake  and  ill-tempered  throughout  the  night. 

On  the  following  day  the  queen  was  bled,  but  without  producing 
any  good  effect.  Her  illness  visibly  increased,  and  George  was  as 
visibly  affected  by  it.  Not  so  much  so,  however,  as  not  to  be  con- 
cerned about  matters  of  dress.  With  the  sight  of  the  queen's  suf- 
fering before  his  eyes,  he  remembered  that  he  had  to  meet  the 
foreign  ministers  that  day,  and  he  was  exceedingly  particular  in 
directing  the  pages  to  see  that  new  rufiles  were  sewn  to  his  old 
shirt-sleeves,  whereby  he  might  wear  a  decent  air  in  the  eyes  of 
the  representatives  of  foreign  majesty.  The  Princess  Caroline 
continued  to  exhibit  unabated  sympathy  for  the  mother  who  had 
perhaps  loved  her  better  than  any  other  of  her  daughters.  The 
princess  was  in  tears  and  suffering  throughout  the  day,  and  almost 
needed  as  much  care  as  the  royal  patient  herself;  especially  after 
losing  much  blood  by  the  sudden  breaking  of  one  of  the  small  ves- 
sels in  the  nose.  It  was  on  this  day  that,  to  aid  Broxholm,  who 
had  hitherto  prescribed  for  the  queen.  Sir  Hans  Sloane  and  Dr. 
Hulse  were  called  in.  They  prescribed  for  an  obstinate  internal 
obstruction  which  could  not  be  overcome,  and  applied  blisters  to 
the  legs — a  remedy  for  which  both  king  and  queen  had  a  sovereign 
and  silly  disgust. 

On  the  11th,  the  quiet  of  the  palace  was  disturbed  by  a  message 
from  the  Prince  of  Wales,  makmg  inquiry  after  the  condition  of 
his  mother.  His  declared  filial  afl'ection  roused  the  king  to  a  pitch 
of  almost  ungovernable  fury.  The  royal  father  flung  at  the  son 
every  missile  in  his  well-stored  vocabulary  of  abuse.  There  really 
seemed  something  devilish  in  this  spirit,  at  such  a  time.  In  truth, 
however,  the  king  had  good  ground  for  knowing  that  the  assur- 
ances of  the  prince  were  based  upon  the  most  patent  hypocrisy. 
The  spirit  of  the  dying  queen  was  nothing  less  fierce  and  bitter 


854 


LIVES  OF  THE    QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


against  the  prince  and  his  adherents,  that  «  Cartouche  gang,"  as 
she  was  wont  to  designate  them.  There  was  no  touch  of  mercy 
in  her,  as  regarded  her  feelings  or  expressions  towards  him ;  and 
her  epithets  were  not  less  degrading  to  the  utterer  and  to  the  ob- 
ject against  whom  they  were  directed,  than  the  king's.  She  be^rcred 
her  husband  to  keep  her  son  from  her  presence.  She  had  no  filth, 
she  said,  in  his  assertions  of  concern,  respect,  or  sympathy.  She! 
knew  he  would  approach  her  with  an  assumption  of  grief;  would 
hsten  dutifully,  as  it  might  seem,  to  her  laments;  would  "blubber 
like  a  calf"  at  her  condition ;  and  laugh  at  her,  outright,  as  soon 
as  he  had  left  her  presence. 

It  seems  infinitely  strange  that  it  was  not  until  the  12th  of  the 
month  that  the  king  hinted  to  the  queen  the  propriety  of  her  phy- 
sicians  knowing  that  she  was  suffering  from  rupture.     Caroline 
hstened  to  the  suggestion  with  aversion  and  displeasure ;  she  earn- 
estly entreated  that  what  had  hitherto  been  kept  seeret  should 
remam  so.     The  king  apparently  acquiesced,  but  there  is  little 
doubt  of  his  having  communicated  a  knowledge  of  the  fact  to  Ranby 
the  surgeon,  who  was  now  in  attendance.     When  the  queen  next 
complained  of  violent  intenial  pain,  Ranby  approached  her,  and 
she  directed  his  hand  to  the  spot  where  she  said  she  suffered  most. 
Like  the  skilful  man  that  he  was,  Ranby  contrived  at  the  same 
moment  to  satisfy  himself  as  to  the  existence  of  the  more  serious 
complaint ;  and  having  done  so,  went  up  to  the  king,  and  spoke  to 
him  in  a  subdued  tone  of  voice.    The  queen  immediately  suspected 
what  had  taken  place,  and  ill  as  she  was,  she  railed  at  Ranby  for 
"  a  blockhead."     The  surgeon,  however,  made  no  mystery  of  the 
matter ;  but  declared,  on  the  contrary,  that  there  was  no  time  to 
be  lost,  and  that  active  treatment  must  at  once  be  resorted  to.    The 
discovery  of  the  real  malady  which  was  threatening  the  queen's 
Ufe,  and  which  would  not  have  been  perilous  had  it  not  been  so 
strangely  neglected,  cost  Caroline  the  only  tears  she  shed  through- 
out  her  trying  illness. 

Shipton  and  the  able  and  octogenarian  Bussier  were  now  called 
in  to  confer  with  the  other  medical  men.  It  was  at  first,  proposed 
to  operate  with  the  knife,  but  ultimately  it  was  agreed  that  an 
attempt  should  be  made  to  reduce  the  tumor  by  less  extreme 


CAROLINE  WILHELMINA   DOROTHEA. 


355 


means.  The  queen  bore  the  necessary  treatment  patiently.  Her 
chief  watcher  and  nurse  was  still  the  gentle  Princess  Caroline. 
The  latter,  however,  became  so  ill,  that  the  medical  men  insisted 
on  bleeding  her.  She  would  not  keep  her  room,  but  lay  dressed 
on  a  couch  in  an  apartment  next  to  that  in  which  lay  her  dying 
mother.  Lord  Hervey,  when  tired  with  watching — and  his  post 
was  one  of  extreme  fatigue  and  anxiety — slept  on  a  mattress,  at 
the  foot  of  the  couch  of  the  Princess  Caroline.  The  king  retired 
to  his  own  bed,  and  on  this  night  the  Princess  Amelia  waited  on 
her  mother. 

The  following  day,  Sunday  the  13th,  was  a  day  of  much  solem- 
nity. The  medical  men  announced  that  the  wound  from  which 
the  queen  suffered  had  begun  to  mortify,  and  that  death  must 
speedily  supervene.  The  danger  was  made  known  to  all ;  and  of 
all,  Caroline  exhibited  the  least  concern.  She  took  a  solemn  and 
dignified  leave  of  her  children,  always  excepting  the  Prince  of 
Wales.  Her  parting  with  her  favorite  son,  the  young  Duke  of 
Cumberland,  was  touching,  and  showed  the  depth  of  her  love  for 
him.  Considering  her  avowed  partiality,  there  was  some  show  of 
justice  in  her  concluding  counsel  to  him  that,  should  his  brother 
Frederick  ever  be  king,  he  should  never  seek  to  mortify  him,  but 
simply  try  to  manifest  a  superiority  over  him  only  by  good  actions 
and  merit.  She  spoke  kindly  to  her  daughter  Amelia,  but  much 
more  than  kindly  to  the  gentle  Caroline,  to  whose  care  she  con- 
signed her  two  youngest  daughters,  Louisa  and  Mary.  She  ap- 
pears to  have  felt  as  little  inclination  to  see  her  dau^jhter  Anne,  as 
she  had  to  see  her  son  Frederick.  Indeed,  intimation  had  been 
given  to  the  Prince  of  Omnge  to  the  effect  that  not  only  was  the 
company  of  the  princess  not  required,  but  that  should  she  feel  dis- 
posed to  leave  Holland  for  St.  James's,  he  was  to  restrain  her,  by 
power  of  his  marital  authority. 

The  parting  scene  with  the  king  was  one  of  mingled  dignity  and 
farce,  touching  incident  and  crapulousness.  Caroline  took  from 
her  finger  a  ruby  ring,  and  put  it  on  a  finger  of  the  king.  She 
tenderly  declared  that  whatever  greatness  or  happiness  had  fallen 
to  her  share,  she  had  owed  it  all  to  him ;  adding,  with  something 
very  like  profanity  and  general  unseemliness,  that  naked  she  had 


356 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


come  to  him  and  naked  she  would  depart  from  him  ;  for  tliat  all  she 
had  was  his,  and  she  had  so  disposed  of  her  own  that  he  should  be 
her  heir.  The  singular  man  to  whom  slie  thus  addressed  herself, 
acted  singularly;  and  for  that  matter,  so  also  did  his  dying  consort. 
Among  her  last  recommendations  made  on  this  day,  was  one 
enjoining  him  to  marry.  The  king  overcome,  or  seemmgly  over- 
come, at  the  idea  of  becoming  a  widower,  burst  into  a  flood  of  tears. 
The  queen  renewed  her  injunctions  that  after  her  decease  he  should 
take  a  second  wife.  He  sobbed  aloud,  but  amid  his  sobbing  he 
suggested  an  opinion,  that  he  thought  that  rather  than  take  another 
wife,  he  would  maintain  a  mistress  or  two.  "  Eh,  mon  dieu,"  ex- 
claimed Caroline,  "  the  one  does  not  prevent  the  other.  Cela  n' 
empeche  pas  !  " 

A  dying  wife  might  have  shown  more  decency,  but  she  could 
hardly  have  been  more  complacent.     Accordingly,  when,  after  the 
above  dignified  scene  had  been  brought  to  a  close,  the  queen  fell 
into  a  profound  sjeep,  George  kissed  her  unconscious  cheeks  a 
hundred  times  over,  expressed  an  opinion  that  she  would  never  wake 
to  recognition  again,  and  gave  evidence,  by  his  words  and  actions, 
how  deeply  he  really  regarded  the  dying  woman  before  him.     It 
happened,  however,  that  she  did  wake  to  consciousness  again ;  and 
then,  with  his  usual  inconsistency  of  temper,  he  snubbed  as  much 
as  he  soothed  her,  yet  without  any  deliberate  intention  of  being 
unkind.     She  expressed  her  conviction  that  she  should  survive  till 
the  Wednesday.     It  was  her  peculiar  day,  she  said.     She  had 
been  born  on  a  Wednesday,  was  married  on  a  Wednesday,  first 
became  a  mother  on  a  Wednesday,  was  crowned  on  a  Wednesday, 
and  she  was  convinced  she  should  die  on  a  Wednesday. 

Her  expressed  indiflerence  as  to  seeing  Walpole  is  in  strong 
contrast  with  the  serious  way  in  which  she  did  hold  converse  with 
him  on  his  being  admitted  to  a  parting  interview.  Her  feeling  of 
mental  superiority  over  the  king  was  exhibited  in  her  dying  recom- 
mendation to  the  minister  to  be  careful  of  the  sovereign.  This 
recommendation  being  made  in  the  sovereign's  presence,  was  but 
little  relished  by  the  minister,  who  feared  that  such  a  bequest,  with 
the  queen  no  longer  alive  to  afford  him  protection,  might  ultimately 
work  his  own  downfall.     George,  however,  was  rather  grateful 


CAROLINE  WILHELMINA    DOROTHEA. 


857 


than  angry  at  the  queen's  commission  to  Walpole,  and  subsequently 
reminded  him  with  grave  good-humor,  that  he,  the  minister,  re- 
quired no  protection,  inasmuch  as  the  queen  had  rather  consigned 
the  king  to  the  protection  of  the  minister ;  and,  "  his  kindness  to 
the  minister  seemed  to  increase  for  the  queen's  sake." 

The  day  which  opened  with  a  sort  of  despair,  closed  with  a  faint 
prospect  of  hope.  The  surgeons  declared  that  the  mortification 
had  not  progressed,  and  Lord  Hervey  does  not  scruple  to  infer  that 
it  had  never  begun,  and  that  the  medical  men  employed  were,  like 
most  of  their  colleagues,  profoundly  ignorant  of  that  with  which 
they  professed  to  be  most  deeply  acquainted.  The  fairer  prospect 
was  made  known  to  the  queen,  in  order  to  encourage  her,  but 
Caroline  was  not  to  be  deceived.  At  twenty-five,  she  remarked, 
she  might  have  dragged  through  it,  but  at  fifty-five,  it  was  not  to 
be  thought  of.  She  still  superstitiouslj  looked  to  the  Wednesday 
as  the  term  of  her  career. 

All  access  to  the  palace  had  been  denied  alike  to  the  Prince  of 
Wales,  and  to  those  who  frequented  his  court ;  but  in  the  confusion 
which  reigned  at  St.  James's,  some  members  of  the  prince's  family, 
or  following,  did  penetrate  to  the  rooms  adjacent  to  that  in  which 
lay  the  royal  sufferer,  under  pretence  of  an  anxiey  to  learn  the 
condition  of  her  health.  Caroline  knew  of  this  vicinity,  called  them 
'^  ravens,"  waiting  to  see  the  breath  depart  from  her  body,  and 
insisted  that  they  should  not  be  allowed  to  approach  her  nearer. 
There  is  ample  evidence  that  the  conduct  of  the  Prince  of  Wales 
was  most  unseemly  at  this  solemn  juncture.  "  We  shall  have  good 
news  soon,"  he  was  heard  to  say,  at  Carlton  House,  *' we  shall 
have  good  news  soon ;  she  can't  hold  out  much  longer !"  There 
were  people  who  were  slow  to  believe  that  a  son  could  exult  at  the 
idea  of  the  death  of  his  mother.  These  persons  questioned  his 
"  favorite,"  Lady  Archibald  Hamilton,  as  to  the  actual  conduct 
and  language  adopted  by  him,  and  at  such  questions  the  mature 
mistress  would  significantly  smile,  as  she  discreetly  answered  :— 
**  Oh,  he  is  very  decent ! " 

The  prospect  of  the  queen's  recovery  was  quite  illusory,  and 
short-lived.  She  grew  so  rapidly  worse,  that  even  the  voices  of 
those  around  her  appeared  to  disturb  her,  and  a  notice  was  pinned 


358      LITES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 

to  the  curtain  of  her  bed,  enjoining  all  present  to  speak  only  in  the 
lowest  possible  tones.     Her  patience,  however,  was  very  great; 
she  took  all  that  was  offered  to  her,  however  strong  her  own  dis- 
taste,  and  when  operations  were  proposed  to  her,  she  submitted  at 
once,   on  assurance  from  the  king  that  he  sanctioned  what  the 
medical  men  proposed.     She  did  not  lose  her  sprightly  humor  even 
when  under  the  knife,  and  she  once  remarked  to  Ranby  when  she 
was  thus  at  his  mercy,  that  she  dared  say  he  was  half  sorry  it  was 
no  this  own  old  wife,  he  was  thus  cutting  about.     But  the  flesh 
will  quiver  where  the  pincers  tear;  and  even  from  Camline,  terri- 
ble  anguish  would  now  and  then  extort  a  groan.     She  bade  the 
surgeons  nevertheless  not  to  heed  her  silly  complaints,  but  to  do 
their  d^ty  irrespective  of  her  grumbling. 

All  this  tune  there  does  not  appear°to  have  been  the  slightest 
|dea  in  the  mmd  either  of  the  sufferer,  or  of  those  about  her:  tha 
It  would  be  well  were  Caroline  enabled  to  make  her  peace  with 
God.     The  matter,  however,  did  occupy  the  public  thought ;  and 
public  opinion  pressed  so  strongly,  that  rather  than  offend  it,  Wal 
pole  himself  recommended  that  a  priest  should  be  sent  for      The 
recommendation  was  made  to  the  Princess  Amelia,  and  in  the  obese 
minister  s  usual  coarse  fashion.     « It  will  be  quite  as  well,"  he 
said,     that  the  farce  should  be  played.     The  Archbishop  of  Can- 
terbury  (Potter)  would  perform  it  decently ;  and  the  princess  mi^ht 
bid  hmi  to  be  as  short  as  she  liked.     It  would  do  the  queen  neither 
harm  nor  gCK,d;  and  it  would  satisfy  all  the  fools  who  called  them 
ttml:;'  they  affected  to  be  as  great  fools  as  they  who  called 

Dr.  Potter  accordingly  was  summoned.  He  attended  morning 
and  evening^  The  king,  to  show  his  estimation  of  the  person  anf 
his  sacred  office,  invariably  kept  out  of  his  wife's  apartment,  while 
the  archbishop  was  present.     What  passed  is  not  known  ;  bit  it  is 

tZetl         '""'''''  '\  '^  ^"^"'  "^^^  ^^^  ^--'  "--  -^-n. 
stered  the  sacrament  to  her.     Was  this  caused  by  her  irreconci- 
lable  hatred  against  her  son  ? 

had  influenced  the  queen  to  countenance  none  but  the  heteix>dox 
Clergy.     Her  conduct  in  her  last  moments  was  consequently  watched 


CAROLINE  WILHELMINA    DOROTHEA. 


359 


with  mingled  anxiety  and  curiosity  by  more  than  those  who  sur- 
rounded her.  The  public  generally  were  desirous  of  being  enlight- 
ened on  the  subject.  The  public  soon  learned,  indirectly,  at  least, 
that  the  archbishop  had  not  administered  to  the  queen  the  solemn 
rite.  On  the  last  time  of  his  issuing  from  the  royal  bedchamber, 
he  was  assailed  by  the  courtiers  with  questions  like  this : — "  My 
lord,  has  the  queen  received  ?  "  All  the  answer  given  by  the 
primate  was,  "  Gentlemen,  her  majesty  is  in  a  most  heavenly  frame 
of  mind."  This  was  an  oracular  sort  of  response  ;  and  it  may  be 
said  that  if  the  queen  was  in  a  heavenly  frame  of  mind,  she  must 
have  been  at  peace  with  her  son,  as  well  as  with  all  men,  and, 
therefore,  in  a  condition  to  receive  the  administration  of  the  rite, 
with  profit  and  thankfulness.  It  was  known,  morever,  that  the 
queen  was  7iot  at  peace  with  her  son,  and  that  she  had  not  "  re- 
ceived ; "  she,  therefore,  could  not  have  been  as  the  archbishop 
described  her,  "  in  a  most  heavenly  state  of  mind."  All  that  the 
public  knew  of  her  practical  piety  was,  that  the  queen  had  been 
accustomed,  or  said  she  had  been  accustomed,  to  read  a  portion  of 
Butler's  Analogy,  every  morning  at  breakfast.  It  was  of  this  book 
that  Bishop  Hoadly  remarked,  that  he  could  never  even  look  at  it 
without  getting  a  headache. 

Meanwliile,  the  king,  who  kept  close  in  the  palace,  not  stirring 
abroad,  and  assembling  around  hira  a  circle  of  hearers,  expatiated 
at  immense  length  upon  the  virtues  and  excellencies  of  the  com- 
panion who  was  on  the  eve  of  departure  from  him.  There  was 
no  known  or  discoverable  good  quality  which  he  did  not  acknow- 
ledge in  her;  not  only  the  qualities  which  dignify  woman,  but 
those  which  elevate  men.  With  the  courage  and  intellectual 
strength  of  the  latter,  she  had  the  beauty  and  virtue  of  the  former. 
He  never  tired  of  this  theme,  told  it  over  again  and  again,  and 
ever  at  an  interminable  length.  The  most  singular  item  in  his 
monster  dissertation  was  his  cool  assurance  to  his  children  and 
friends  that  she  was  the  only  woman  in  the  world  who  suited  him 
for  a  wife,  and  that  if  she  had  not  been  his  wife,  he  would  rather 
have  had  her  for  his  mistress  tlian  any  other  woman  he  had  ever 
seen,  or  heard  of. 

This  was  the  highest  possible   praise  stich  a  husband  could 


860 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


bestow ;  and  he  doubtless  loved  his  wife  as  well  as  a  husband,  so 
trained,  could  love  a  consort.  His  own  sharp  words  to  her,  evea 
in  her  illness,  were  no  proof  to  the  contrary ;  and  amid  tokens  of 
his  uncouth  tenderness,  obser\-ing  her  restless  from  pain,  and  yet 
desirous  of  sleep,  he  would  exclaim,  "  How  the  devU  can  you 
expect  to  sleep  when  you  never  lie  still  a  moment  ?"  This  was 
meant  for  affection;  so,  too,  was  the  remark  made  to  her  one 
morning  when,  on  entering  her  room,  he  saw  her  gazing,  as  in- 
valids are  wont  to  gaze,  idly  on  vacancy,  "  with  lack-lustre  eye." 
He  roughly  desired  her  to  cease  staring  in  that  disagreeable  way, 
which  made  her  look,  he  said  with  refined  gallantry,  just  like  a 
calf  with  its  throat  cut ! 

His  praise  of  her,  as  Lord  Hervey  acutely  suggested,  had  much 
of  self-eulogy  in  view  ;  and  when  he  lauded  her  excellent  sense,  it 
had  especial  reference  to  that  exemplification  of  it  when  she 
was  wise  enough  to  accept  him  for  a  husband.  He  wearied  all 
hearers  with  the  long  stories  which  he  recounted  both  of  Caroline 
and  hunself,  as  he  sat  at  night,  with  his  feet  on  a  stool,  pouring 
out  prosily  his  never-ending  narrative.  The  Princess  Amelia 
used  to  endeavor  to  escape  from  the  tediousness  of  listening,  by 
pretending  to  be  asleep,  and  to  avenge  herself  for  being  compelled 
to  listen,  by  gross  abuse  of  her  royal  father  when  he  left  the  room 
— calling  him  old  fool,  liar,  coward,  and  a  driveller,  of  whose  stories 
she  was  most  heartily  sick. 

And  so  matters  went  on,  progressively  worse,  until  Sunday  the 
20th — the  last  day  which  Caroline  was  permitted  to  see  upon 
earth.  The  circumstances  attending  the  queen's  death  were  not 
witlout  a  certam  dignity.  -  How  long  can  this  last  ?**  said  she 
to  her  physician  Tessier.  -  It  will  not  be  long,"  was  the  reply, 
"before  your  majesty  will  be  relieved  from  this  suffering."  -The 
sooner  the  better,"  said  Caroline.  And  then  she  began  to  pray 
aloud ;  and  her  prayer  was  not  a  formal  one,  fixed  in  her  memory 
by  repeating  it  from  the  Book  of  Common  Prayer,  but  a  sponta- 
neous and  extemporary  effusion,  so  eloquent,  so  appropriate,  and 
so  touching,  that  all  the  listeners  were  struck  with  atlmiration  at 
this  last  effort  of  a  mind  ever  remarkable  for  its  vigor  and  ability. 
She  herself  manifested  great  anxiety  to  depart  in  a  manner  be- 


CAROLINE   WILHELMINA   DOROTHEA. 


861 


commg  a  great  queen ;  and  as  her  last  moment  approached,  her 
anxiety  m  tins  respect  appeared  to  increase.     She  requested  to  be 
raised  in  bed,  and  asked  all  present  to  kneel  and  offer  up  a  prayer 
m    her   behalf     While  this    was  going  on,  she  grew  gradu^ly 
fainter,  but,  at  her  desire,  water  wa^  sprinkled  upon  her  so  that 
she  might  revive  and  listen  to,  or  join  in,  the  petitions  which  her 
family  (aU  but  her  eldest  son,  who  wa.  not  present)  put  up  to 
Heaven  m  her  behalf     ^'Louder!"   she  murmnred  more  ihan 
once,  as  some  one  read  or  prayed.     "  Louder,  that  I  may  hear  " 
Her  request  was   complied  with,  and  then  one  of  her  children 
repeated  audibly  the  Lord's  Prayer.     In    this    Caroline  joined, 
repeatmg  the  words  as  distinctly  a.  failing  nature  would  allow  her. 
The  prayer  was  just  concluded   when  she  looked  fixedly  for  a 
moment  at  those  who  stood  weeping  around  her,  and  then  uttered 

a  long.lra>vn  ^  So !"     It  was  her  last  word.     As  it  fell  from 

her  lips  the  dial  on  the  chimney-piece  struck  eleven.  She  calmly 
waved  her  hand-a  farewell  to  all  present  and  to  the  worid ;  and 
then  tranquilly  composing  herself  upon  her  bed,  she  breathed  a 
sigh  and  so  expired.  Thus  died  Caroline  ;  and  few  queens  of 
England  have  parsed  away  to  their  account  with  more  of  min^^led 
aignity  and  indecorum.  " 

To  this  account  of  the  queen's  ilbess,  chiefly  compiled,  and  very 
closely  condensed,  from  Hervey's  diffuse,  but  interesting  narrative 
..may  be  added  that  Nichols,  in  his  "Reminiscences,"  savs  thai 
Dr.  Sands  suggested  that  a  cure  might  be  effected  by  injecting 
warn  water,  and  that  Dr.  Hulse  app«>ved  of  the  remcdv  and 
method.  It  was  applied,  with  no  one  present  but  the  medical 
men  just  named;  and  though  it  signally  failed,  thev  pronounced 

as  hanng  succeeded.  Their  terror  was  great ;  and  when 
they  pas.^  through  the  outer  apartment-s  where  the  Duke  of 
Newcastle  congratulatingly  hugged  Hube,  on  his  having  .aved 
the  queen's  life,  the  doctor  struggled  with  all  his  mi^ht%o  -.et 
away,  lest  he  should  be  questioned  upon  a  matter  which'  involv^ 
perhaps,  more  serious  consequences  than  he  could  in  his  bewUder- 
ment  then  accurately  calculate. 

The  Princess  Caroline   as  soon  as  the  queen  had  apparently 


862 


LIVES   OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


sullied  by  any  breath,  calmly  remarked,  "  *  Tis  over,"  and  thence- 
forward ceased  to  weep  as  she  had  done  while  her  mother  was 
dying.  The  king  kissed  the  face  and  hands  of  his  departed 
consort,  with  unaffected  fervor.  His  conduct  continued  to  be  as 
singular  as  ever.  He  was  superstitious  and  afraid  of  ghosts,  and 
it  was  remarked  on  this  occasion,  that  he  would  have  people  with 
him  in  his  bed-room,  as  if  their  presence  could  have  saved  him 
from  the  visitation  of  a  spirit.  In  private,  the  sole  subject  of  his 
conversation  was  "  Caroline.''  He  loved  to  narrate  the  whole 
history  of  her  early  life  and  his  own :  their  wooing  and  their 
wedding,  their  joys  and  vexations.  In  these  conversations,  he 
introduced  something  about  every  person  with  whom  he  had  ever 
been  in  anything  like  close  connection.  It  was  observed,  however, 
that  he  never  once  mentioned  the  name  of  his  mother,  Sophia 
Dorothea,  or  in  any  way  alluded  to  her.  He  purposely  avoided 
the  subject,  but  he  frequently  named  the  father  of  Sophia,  the 
Duke  of  ZeU,  who,  he  said,  was  so  desirous  of  seeing  his  grandson 
gi'ow  up  into  an  upright  man,  that  the  duke  declared  he  would 
shoot  him  if  George  Augustus  should  prove  a  dishonest  one ! 

Amid  all  these  anecdotes,  and  tales,  and  reminiscences,  and 
praises,  there  was  a  constant  flow  of  tears  shed  for  her  who  was 
gone.  They  seemed,  however,  to  come  and  go  at  pleasure,  for  in 
the  very  height  of  his  mourning  and  depth  of  his  sorrow,  he 
happened  to  see  Horace,  the  brother  of  Sir  Robert  Walpole,  who 
was  weeping  for  fashion's  sake,  but  in  so  grotesque  a  manner,  that 
when  the  king  beheld  it,  he  ceased  to  cry,  and  burst  into  a  roar  of 
laughter. 

Lord  Hervey  foretold  that  his  grief  wa's  not  of  a  lasting  quality  ; 
and,  in  some  degree,  he  was  correct.  It  must  be  confessed,  how- 
ever, that  the  king  never  ceased  to  respect  the  memory  of  his  wife. 
Walpole  only  thought  of  how  George  might  be  ruled  now  that  the 
queen  was  gone,  and  he  speedily  fixed  upon  a  plan.  He  had 
been  accustomed,  he  said,  to  side  with  the  mother  against  the 
mistress.  He  would  now,  he  said,  side  with  the  mistress  against 
the  children.  He  it  was,  who  proposed  that  Madame  Walmoden 
should  now  be  brought  to  England  ;  and,  in  a  revoltingly  coarse 
observation  to  the  Princess  Caroline,  he  recommended  her,  if  she 


CAROLINE  WILHELMINA  DOROTHEA. 


863 


would  have  any  influence  with  her  father,  to  surround  him  with 
women,  and  govern  him  through  them ! 

But  other  parties  had  been  on  the  watch  to  lay  hold  of  the 
power  which  had  now  fallen  from  the  hand  of  the  dead  Caroline. 

The  discussion  in  the  royal  family,  which  was  caused  by  the 
conduct  of  the  Prince  of  Wales,  at  the  period  of  the  birth  of  his 
eldest  daughter  Augusta,  was,  of  course,  turned  to  political  account. 
It  was  made  even  of  more  account  in  that  way,  when  the  condition 
of  Caroline  became  knowTi.  Lord  Chesterfield,  writing  to  Mr. 
Lyttelton,  from  Bath,  on  the  12th  of  November,  1737,  says:  "As 
I  suppose  the  queen  will  be  dead  or  out  of  danger  before  you  re- 
ceive this,  my  advice  to  his  royal  highness  (of  Wales)  will  come 
full  late ;  but  in  all  events  it  is  my  opinion,  he  cannot  take  too 
many  and  too  respectful  measures  towards  the  queen,  if  alive,  and 
towards  the  king,  if  she  is  dead ;  but  then  that  respect  should  be 
absolutely  personal,  and  care  should  be  taken  that  the  ministers 
shall  not  have  tlie  least  share  of  it." 

At  the  time  when  Caroline's  indignation  had  been  aroused  by 
the  course  adopted  by  the  prince,  when  his  wilb  was  brought  from 
Hampton  Court  to  St.  James's  for  her  confinement,  his  royal  high- 
ness had  made  a  statement  to  Sir  Robert  Walpole  and  Lord  Har- 
rington, which  they  were  subsequently  required  to  put  down  in 
writing  as  corroborative  evidence  of  what  the  prince  had  said  to 
the  queen.  In  reference  to  the  inditers  of  these  "  minutes  of  con- 
versation," Lord  Chesterfield  advises  that  the  disrespect  which  he 
recommends  the  prince  to  exhibit  towards  the  ministry,  shall  be 
more  marked,  "  if  in  the  course  of  these  transactions  the  (wo  evi- 
dences should  be  sent  to,  or  of  themselves  presume  to  approach  the 
prince ;  in  which  case  (says  the  writer)  he  ought  to  show  them 
personal  resentment ;  and  if  they  bring  any  message  from  the  king 
or  queen  which  he  cannot  refuse  receiving,  he  should  ask  for  it  in 
writing,  and  give  his  answer  in  writing ;  alleging  publicly  for  his 
reason,  that  he  cannot  venture  anything  with  people  who  have 
grossly  both  betrayed  and  misrepresented  private  conversation."* 
Through  the  anticipated  natural  death  of  the  queen,  the  opposi- 

*  Lord  Chesterfield's  Life  and  Letters.     Edited  by  Lord  Mahon. 


364 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


\ 


tion  hoped  to  effect  the  political  death  of  Walpole.  "  In  case  the 
queen  dies,"  writes  Chesterfield,  "  I  think  Walpole  should  be  looked 
upon  as  gone  too,  whether  he  be  really  so  or  no,  which  will  be  the 
most  likely  way  to  weaken  him ;  for  if  he  be  supposed  to  inherit 
the  queen's  power  over  the  king,  it  will  in  some  degree  give  it 
him ;  and  if  the  opposition  are  wise,  instead  of  treating  with  him, 
they  should  attack  him  most  vigorously  and  personally,  as  a  per- 
son who  has  lost  his  chief  support.  Which  is  indeed  true ;  for 
though  he  may  have  more  power  with  the  king  than  any  other 
body,  yet  he  will  never  have  that  kind  of  power  which  he  had  by 
her  means ;  and  he  will  not  even  dare  to  mention  many  things  to 
the  king,  which  he  could  without  difficulty  have  brought  about  by 
her  means.  Pray  present  my  most  humble  duty  to  his  royal  high- 
ness," concludes  the  writer,  "  and  tell  him  that  upon  principles  of 
personal  duty  and  respect  to  the  king  and  queen  (if  alive),  he  can- 
not go  too  far  ;  as,  on  the  other  hand,  with  relation  to  the  ministers, 
afler  what  has  passed,  he  cannot  carry  his  dignity  too  high."  The 
same  strain  is  continued  in  a  second  letter,  wherein  it  is  stated 
with  respect  to  the  anticipated  death  of  the  queen :  "  It  is  most 
certain  that  Sir  Robert  must  be  in  the  utmost  distress,  and  can 
never  hope  to  govern  the  king  as  the  queen  governed  him ;"  and 
he  adds,  in  a  postscript :  "  We  have  a  prospect  of  the  Claude  Lor- 
raine kind  before  us,  while  Sir  Robert's  has  all  the  horrors  of  Sal- 
vator  Rosa.  If  the  prince  would  play  the  rising  sun,  he  would 
gild  it  finely ;  if  not,  he  will  be  under  a  cloud,  which  he  will  never 
be  able  hereafter  to  shine  through."  Finally,  exclaims  the  eager 
writer :  "  Instil  this  into  the  Woman,'' — meaning  by  the  latter  the 
Prince  of  Wales's  "  favorite,"  Lady  Archibald  Hamilton,— who 
"  had  tilled,"  says  Lord  ^lahon,  "  the  whole  of  his  little  court  with 
her  kindred."  According  to  Horace  Walpole,  "whenever  Sir 
William  Stanhope  met-  anybody  at  Carlton  House  whom  he  did 
not  know,  he  always  said,  '  your  humble  servant,  Mr.  or  Mrs. 

Hamilton.'" 

A  fortnight  after  Chesterfield  contemptuously  calls  Lady  Archi- 
bald "  the  Woman;'  he  begins  to  see  the  possibility  of  her  rising 
to  the  possession  of  political  influence,  and  he  says  to  Mr.  Lyttel- 
ton :  "  Pray,  when  you  see  Lady  Archibald,  assure  her  of  my  re- 


CAROLINE  WILHELMINA    DOROTHEA. 


365 


spects,  and  tell  her  that  I  would  trouble  her  with  a  letter  myself, 
to  have  acknowledged  her  goodness  to  me,  if  I  could  have  ex- 
pressed those  acknowledgments  to  my  own  satisfaction ;  but  not 
being  able  to  do  that,  I  only  desire  she  would  be  persuaded  that 
my  sentiments  with  regard  to  her  are  what  they  ought  to  be."* 
In  such  wise,  did  great  men  counsel  and  intrigue  for  the  sake  of  a 
little  pre-eminence,  which  never  yet  purchased,  or  brought  with  it, 
the  boon  of  happiness. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

CAROUXE,   HER   TIMES    AND    CONTEMPORARIES. 

Much  has  been  said,  and  many  opposite  conclusions  drawn,  as 
to  the  religious  character  of  Caroline.  In  our  days,  such  a  woman 
would  not  be  allowed  to  wear  the  reputation  of  being  religious. 
In  her  days,  she  may  with  more  justice  have  been  considered  so. 
And  yet  she  was  far  below  a  standard  of  much  elevation.  When 
we  hear  her  boasting, — or  rather  asserting,  as  convinced  of  the 
fact,  that  "  she  had  made  it  the  business  of  her  life  to  discharge  her 
duty  to  God  and  man  in  the  best  manner  she  was  able,"  we  have 
no  very  favorable  picture  of  her  humility  ;  though  at  the  same  time 
we  may  acquit  her  of  hypocrisy. 

Her  patronage  of  the  well-meaning,  but  mischievous,  the  learned 
but  unwise  Whiston,  is  quite  sufficient  to  condemn  her  in  the  opin- 
ion of  many  people.  Here  was  a  man  who  liad  not  yet,  indeed, 
left  the  Church  of  England  for  a  Baptist  meeting,  because  the 
Athanasian  creed  was  an  offence  to  him,  but  he  had  pronounced 
Prince  Eugene  to  be  the  man  foretold  in  the  Apocalypse  as  the 
destroyer  of  the  Turkish  Empire,  had  declared  that  the  children 
of  Joseph  and  Mary  were  the  natural  brothers  and  sisters  of  Christ, 
set  up  a  heresy  in  his  "Primitive  Christianity  revived,"  made 
open  profession  of  Arianism,  boldly  made  religious  prophecies  that 

*  Lord  Chesterfield's  Life  and  Letters  ;  lU  supra. 


B66 


LIVES  OP  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


were  falsified  as  soon  as  made,  and,  more  innocently,  translated 
Josephus,  and  tried  to  discover  the  longitude.     Caroline  showed 
her  admiration  of  heterodox  Whiston  by  conferring  on  him  a  pen- 
sion of  fifty  pounds  a  year ;  and  as  she  had  a  regard  for  the  mad 
scholar,  she  paid  him  with  her  own  hand,  and  had  him  as  a  fre- 
quent visitor  at  the  palace.     The  king  was  more  guarded  in  his 
patronage  of  Whiston,  and  one  day  said  to  him  as  king,  queen  and 
preacher  were  walking  together  in  Hampton  Court  gardens,  that 
his  opinions  against  Athanasianism  might  certainly  be  true,  but 
perhaps  it  would  have  been  better,  if  he  had  kept  them  to  himself. 
Now  Whiston  was  remarkable  for  his  wit  and  his  fearlessness,  and 
looking  straight  in  the  face  of  the  man  who  was  king  by  right  of 
the  Reformation,  and  who  was  the  temporal  head  of  the  Church, 
and  ex-officioy  Defender  of  the   Faith,  he  said, — "  If  Luther  had 
followed  such  advice,  I  should  like  to  know  where  your  majesty 
would  have  been  at  the  present  moment."     "  Well,  Mr.  Whiston," 
said  Caroline,  "  you  are,  as  I  have  heard  it  said  you  were,  a  very 
free  speaker.     Are  you  bold  enough  to  tell  me  my  faults  ?"  "  Cer- 
tainly," was  Whiston's  reply.    "  There  are  many  people  who  come 
every  year  from  the  country  to  London  upon  business.     Their  chief, 
loyal,  and  natural  desire  is  to  see  their  king  and  queen.     This  desire 
they  can  nowhere  so  conveniently  gratify  as  at  the  Chapel  Royal. 
But  what  they  see  there  does  not  edify  them.     They  behold  your 
majesty  talking  during  nearly  the  whole  time  of  service,  with  the 
king, — and  talking  loudly.     This  scandalizes  them ;  they  go  into 
the  country  with  fale  impressions,  spread  false  re[>orts,  and  effect 
no  little  mischief."     The  queen  pleaded  that  the  king  would  talk  to 
her,  acknowledged  that  it  was  wrong,  promised  amendment,  and 
asked  what  was  the  next  fault  he  descried  in  her.  "  Nav,  madam," 
said  he,  "  it  will  be  time  enough  to  go  to  the  second,  when  your 
majesty  has  corrected  the  first." 

AVhat  Caroline  said  of  her  consort  was  true  enough.  At  chapel, 
the  king,  when  not  sleej)ing,  icould  be  talking ;  Dr.  Young  thought, 
by  power  of  his  preaching,  to  keep  him  awake,  but  the  king,  on 
finding  that  the  new  chaplain  was  not  giving  him  what  he  loved, 
"a  short,  good  sermon,"  soon  began  to  exhibit  signs  of  somnolency. 
Young  exerted  himself  in  vain,  and  when  his  majesty  at  length 


CAROLINE  WILHELMINA  DOROTHEA. 


367 


broke  forth  with  a  snore,  the  i)oet-preacher  felt  his  vanity  so 
wounded,  that  he  burst  into  tears.  Where  kings  and  queens  so 
behaved,  no  wonder  that  young  ensigns  flirted  openly  with  maids 
of  honor,  and  that  Lady  Wortley  Montague  should  have  reason  to 
write  to  the  Countess  of  Bute :— "  I  confess,  I  remember  to  have 
dressed  for  St.  James's  Chapel  with  the  same  thoughts  your  daugh- 
ters will  have  at  the  opera." 

It  is  not  likely  that  Archbishop  Potter  was  sent  for  by  Caroline 
herself  in  her  last  ilhiess,  for  she  liked  the  prelate  as  little  as 
Whiston  himself  did.  But  Potter,  the  first  of  scholars,  in  spite  of 
the  sneers  of  academical  Parr,  was,  although  a  stanch  Whig,  and 
esteemed  by  Caroline  and  her  consort  for  his  sermon  preached 
before  them  at  their  coronation,  yet  a  very  high  churchman,  one 
who  put  the  throne  infinitely  below  the  altar,  and  thought  kings 
very  far  indeed  below  priests.  This  last  opinion,  however,  was 
very  much  modified  when  the  haughty  prelate,  son  of  a  Wakefield 
linen-draper,  had  to  petition  for  a  favor.  His  practice,  certainly, 
was  not  perfect,  for  he  disinherited  one  son,  who  married  a  dower- 
less  maiden,  out  of  pure  love,  and  he  left  his  fortune  to  the  other 
who  was  a  profligate,  and  squandered  it. 

But  even  Caroline  could  not  but  respect  Potter  for  his  jealousy 
with  respect  to  the  worldly  supplying  of  Church  benefices.  Just 
after  the  queen  had  congratulated  him  on  being  elected  to  the 
highest  position  in  the  Church  of  England,  Potter  called  on  a  cleri- 
cal relative,  to  announce  to  him  the  intention  of  his  kinsman  to 
confer  on  him  a  valuable  living.  The  archbishop  unfortunately 
found  his  reverend  cousin  busily  engaged  at  skittles,  and  the  prelate 
came  upon  him  just  as  the  apostolic  player  was  aiming  at  the  cen- 
tre-i)in,  with  the  remark,  '*  Now  for  a  shy  at  the  head  of  the 
Church!"  He  missed  his  pin,  and  also  lost  his  preferment. 
Neither  of  their  majesties,  however,  thought  Potter  justified  in 
withholding  a  benefice  on  such  slight  grounds  of  offence.  Neither 
George  nor  Caroline  approved  of  clergymen  of  any  rank  inveighing 
against  amusements.  I  may  cite,  as  a  case  in  point,  the  anger  with 
which  the  king  at  heart  visited  Gibson,  Bishop  of  London,  for  de- 
nouncing masquerades,  and  for  getting  up  an  episcopal  address  to 
the  throne,  praying  "  for  the  entire  abolition  of  such  pernicious 


ses 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


diversions."  The  son  of  Sophia  Dorothea  was  especially  fond  of 
masquerades,  and  his  indignation  was  great  at  hearin<r  them 
denounced  by  Gibson.  This  boldness  shut  the  latter  out  from  aU 
chance  of  succeeding  to  Canterbur}%  Caroline  looked  with  some  favor, 
however,  on  this  zealous  and  upright  prelate ;  and  her  minister,  Wal- 
pole,  did  nothing  to  obstruct  the  exercise  of  his  great  ecclesiastical 
power.  «  Gibson  is  a  Pope ! "  once  exclaimed  one  of  the  low 
church  courtiers  of  Caroline's  coterie.  "  True !  "  was  Walpole's 
reply,  "  and  a  very  good  Pope  too  ! " 

It  must  be  confessed,  nevertheless,  that  the  Church  and  religion 
were  equally  in  a  deplorable  state,  just  previous  to  the  demise  of 
Caroline.     That  ingenious  and  learned   Northumbrian,    Edward 
Grey,  published  anonymously,  the  year  before  the  queen's  death,  a 
work  upon  ''  The  Miserable  and  Distracted  state  of  Religion  in 
England,  upon  the  downfall  of  the  Church  Established."     A  work, 
however,  published  the  same  year,  and  which  much  more  interested 
the  queen,  was  Warburton's  famous  "Alliance  between  Church 
and  State."     This  book  brought  again  into  public  notice,  its  author, 
that  William  Warburton,  the  son  of  a  Newark  attorney,  who  hun- 
self  had  been  a  lawyer,  and  usher,  had  denounced  Pope  as  an  in- 
capable poet,  and  had  sunk  into  temporary  oblivion  in  his  Lincoln- 
shire rectory  at  Brand  Broughton.     But  his  "  Alliance  between 
Church  and  State"  brought  him  to  the  notice  of  Queen  Caroline, 
to  whom  his  book  and  his  name  were  introduced  by  Dr.  Hare,  the 
Bishop  of  Chichester.     Caroline  liked  the  book,  and  desired  to  see 
the  author,  but  her  last  fatal  ilhiess  was  ui)on  her  before  he  could 
be  introduced,  and  Warburton  had  to  write  many  books,  and  wait 
many  years  before  he  found  a  patron  in  Murray  (Lord  Mansfield) 
who  could  help  him  to  preferment. 

It  is  said,  as  I  have  previously  observed,  that  Queen  Caroline 
made  of  Butler's  "  Analogy  of  Religion,  natural  and  revealed,  to 
the  Constitution  and  Course  of  Nature,"  a  sort  of  light-reading 
book,  which  was  the  ordinary  companion  of  her  breakfast  table! 
Caroline  may  possibly  have  liked  to  dip  into  such  profound  fount- 
ains, but  I  doubt  whether  she  often  looked  into  the  Analoc^y  as  it 
was  not  pubUshed  till  1736,  when  her  malady  was  increasLg,  and 
her  power  to  study  a  work  so  abstruse  must  have  been  much 


CAROLINE  WILHELMINA    DOROTHEA. 


869 


diminished.  Still  she  admired  the  learned  divine,  who  was  the  son 
of  a  Wantage  shopkeeper,  and  who  was  originally  a  presbyterian 
dissenter, — a  community  for  which  German  protestant  princes  and 
princesses  have  always  entertained  a  considerable  regard.  Caroline 
did  not  merely  admire  Butler  because  High  Churchmen  looked 
upon  him,  even  after  his  ordination,  as  half  a  dissenter ;  she  had 
admired  his  Rolls  Sermons,  and  when  Seeker,  another  ex-presby- 
terian  whom  Butler  had  induced  to  enter  the  church,  introduced 
and  recommended  him  to  Queen  Caroline,  she  immediately  ap- 
pointed him  Clerk  of  the  Closet.  It  could  have  been  very  little 
before  this,  that  Seeker  himself,  who  had  been  a  presbyterian,  a 
doctor,  a  sort  of  sentimental  vagabond  on  the  Continent,  and  a  free- 
thinker to  boot, — had  been,  after  due  probation  and  regular 
progress,  appointed  Rector  of  St.  James's.  Walpole  declares  that 
Seeker  owed  this  preferment  to  the  favor  of  the  queen,  and  Seek- 
er's biographers  cannot  prove  much  to  the  contrary.  At  the  period 
of  Caroline's  death,  he  was  Bishop  of  Bristol,  and  that  high  dignity 
he  is  also  said  to  have  owed  to  the  friendship  of  Caroline.  I  wish 
it  were  only  as  true,  that  when  the  Prince  of  Wales  was  at  enmity 
with  the  king  and  queen,  and  used  to  attend  St.  James's  Church, 
his  place  of  residence  being  at  Norfolk  House,  in  the  adjacent 
square,  I  wish,  I  say,  it  were  true  that  Seeker  once  preached  to 
the  prince  on  the  text,  "  Honor  thy  father  and  mother."  The 
tale,  however,  is  apocry})hal ;  but  it  is  true  that  the  prince,  himself, 
at  the  period  of  the  family  quarrel,  was  startled,  on  entering  the 
church,  at  hearing  IVIr.  Bonny,  the  clerk  in  orders,  rather  pointedly 
beginning  the  service  with  "  I  will  arise,  and  go  to  my  father,  and 
will  say  unto  him.  Father,  I  have  sinned,"  &c. 

But  perhaps  of  all  the  members  of  the  Church,  Caroline  felt 
regard  for  none  more  than  for  Berkely.  He  had  been  an  active 
divine,  long  indeed  before  the  queen  visited  him  with  her  favor. 
His  progress  had  been  checked  by  his  sermons  in  favor  of  passive 
obedience  and  non-resistance, — sermons  which  were  considered  not 
so  much  inculcating  loyalty  to  Brunswick  as  defending  the  revo- 
lution which  opened  to  that  house  the  way  to  the  thrope.  Berkely 
had  also  incurred  no  little  public  wrath  by  destroying  the  letters 

which  Swift's  Vanessa  had  bequeathed  to  bis  care,  with  a  sum  of 

10* 


370 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


money,  for  the  express  purpose  of  their  being  published.  But,  on 
the  other  hand,  he  had  manifested  in  various  ways  the  true  spirit 
of  a  Christian  and  a  philosopher,  and  had  earned  immortal  honor 
by  his  noble  attempt  to  convert  the  American  savages  to  Christian- 
ity. But  it  was  his  Minute  Philosopher, — his  celebrated  work, 
the  object  of  which  wiis  to  refute  skepticism,  that  gained  for  him 
the  distinction  of  the  approval  of  Caroline.  The  expression  of  such 
approval  is  warrant  for  the  queen's  sincerity  in  the  cause  of  true 
religion.  So  delighted  was  the  queen  with  tliis  work,  that  she  pro- 
cured for  its  author  his  nomination  to  the  Bishopric  of  Cloyne. 
Never  was  reward  more  nobly  eanied,  more  worthily  bestowed,  or 
more  gracefully  conferred.  It  did  honor  alike  to  the  queen  and  to 
Berkely,  and  it  raised  the  hopes  of  those  who  were  ready  to  almost 
despair  of  Christianity  itself,  when  they  saw  that  religion  yet  had 
its  great  champions  to  uphold  her  cause,  and  that,  however  indiffer- 
ent the  king  might  be  to  the  merits  of  such  champions,  the  queen 
herself  was  ever  eager  to  acknowledge  their  services,  and  to  recom- 
pense them  largely,  as  they  merited. 

In  controversial  works,  however,  Caroline  always  delighted. 
She  had  no  greater  joy  in  this  way  than  setting  Clarke  and  Leib- 
nitz at  intellectual  struggle,  watching  the  turns  of  the  contest  with 
interest,  suggesting,  amending,  adding,  or  diminishuig,  and  advising 
every  well-laid  blow,  by  whichever  antagonist  it  was  delivered. 
It  may  be  asked,  was  there  not  in  all  this  rather  more  love  of  in- 
tellectual than  of  religious  pursuits.  The  reader  must  judge. 
Meanwhile,  let  us  turn  from  the  consideration  of  her  religious  to 
that  of  her  personal  character ;  from  religion  to  morals,  from  the 
"  most  religious"  sovereign  to  the  queen  as  woman,  to  her  personal 
merits,  and  how  others  accounted  of  them. 

Lord  Chesterfield  says  of  her,  in  his  "  lively  prett/*  way,  that 
"  she  was  a  woman  of  lively,  pretty  parts."  Slie  merits,  however, 
a  better  epitaph,  and  a  more  sagacious  chronicler.  "  Her  death,** 
adds  the  noble  roue,  "  was  regretted  by  none  but  the  king.  She 
died  meditating  projects  which  must  have  ended  either  in  her  own 
ruin,  or  that  of  the  country."  Dismissing,  for  the  present,  the  last 
part  of  this  paragraph,  we  will  bay  that  Caroline  was  mourned 
by  more  than  by  the  king,  but  by  none  so  deeply,  so  deservedly, 


CAROLINE  WILHELMINA  DOROTHEA. 


371 


so  naturally  as  by  him.  He  had  not,  out  of  affection  for  her,  been 
less  selfish  or  less  vicious  than  his  inclinations  induced  him  to  be. 
He  was  faithless  to  her,  but  he  never  ceased  to  respect  her ;  and 
in  those  days  a  husband  of  whom  nothing  worse  could  be  said,  was 
rather  exemplary  of  conduct  than  otherwise.  It  was  a  sort  of 
decorum  that  was  by  no  means  common.  One  could  have  almost 
thought  him  uxorious,  for  he  not  only  allowed  himself  to  be  direct- 
ed, in  all  important  matters  requiring  judgment  and  discretion,  by 
the  guidance  of  her  more  enlightened  mind,  but  he  never  drew  a 
picture  of  beauty  and  propriety  in  woman,  but  all  the  hearers  felt 
that  the  original  of  the  picture  was  the  queen  herself.  It  is  strange, 
setting  aside  more  grave  considerations  for  the  rule  of  conduct,  that, 
with  such  a  wife,  he  should  have  hampered  himself  with  '^  favor- 
ites." These  he  neither  loved  nor  respected.  A  transitory  liking 
and  the  evil  fashion  of  the  day  had  something  to  do  with  it ;  and 
besides,  he  had  a  certain  feeling  of  attachment,  for  w^omen  who 
were  obsequious  and  serviceable.  These  he  could  rule,  but  his 
wife  ruled  him.  Nor  could  the  women  be  compared.  Sir  Robert 
Walpole,  an  unexceptionable  witness  in  this  case,  asserts  that  the 
king  loved  his  wife's  little  finger  better  than  he  did  Lady  Suffolk's 
whole  body.  For  that  reason  it  was  that  Walpole  himself  so  re- 
spectfully kissed  the  small,  plump,  and  graceful  hand  of  the  queen 
rather  than  propitiate  the  good-will  of  the  favorite. 

Our  great-grandfathers  and  grandmothers  must  have  been  a 
terribly  wicked  race,  for  I  hold  it  im)K)ssible  for  a  people  generally 
to  be  virtuous  when  the  court  and  nobility  set  them  an  example  of 
vice.  Such  vices  are  often  the  seed  out  of  which  spring  republics ; 
and  the  lust  of  Tarquin  built  the  Commonwealth  of  Rome.  Nor 
must  it  be  set  down  that  Caroline  was  blameless.  She  shared  the 
vices  in  which  her  husband  indulged,  by  favoring  the  indulgence. 
She  was  not  the  more  excusable  for  this  because  Archdeacon 
Blackburn  and  other  churchmen  [)raised  her  for  encouraging  the 
king  in  his  wickedness.  Her  ground  of  action  was  not  founded  on 
virtuous  principle.  She  sanctioned,  nay  promoted,  the  vicious  way 
of  life  followed  by  her  consort,  merely  that  she  might  exercise 
more  power  politically  and  personally.  She  depreciated  her  own 
worth  and  attractions  in  order  to  heighten  those  of  the  favorites 


372 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


whom  the  king  most  affected,  and  by  way  of  apologizing  for  his 
being  attracted  from  her  to  them.     Actually,  she  had  as  little  re- 
gard for  married  faith  as  the  king  himself.     They  were  both  very 
coarse  people,  and  Caroline  understood  as  little  as  did  her  lord, 
the  refinement  and  fidelity  of  iiffection,  which,  like  the  ivy,  at  once 
warms  and  protects  the  dear  ruin  to  which  it  clings.     The  result 
was,  that  the  king  was  the  head  of  a  household,  and  yet  of  such 
uncleanness  and  infamy,  as  would  make  of  a  man  now  an  outcast 
from  society.     The  queen 'endured  it  all,  and  lived  among  it  all 
with  such  complacency,  as  to  have  given  rise  to  a  belief  that  she 
had  never  cared  for  the  king,  and  was  therefore  jealouslessly 
indifferent  as  to  the  disgraceful  tenor  of  his  life.     An  allusion  was 
once  made  in  her  presence,  when  the  Duke  of  Grafton  was  by,  to 
her  having  in  former  times  not  been  unaffected  by  the  suit  of  a 
German  prince.     "  G— d,  madam,"  said  the  duke,  in  the  fashion- 
able ''l-si)hemous  style  of  the  period,  "  G— d,  madam,  I  should 
like  t       e  the  man  you  could  love !"    **  See  him  ?"  said  the  queen, 
laugl.  ;  "  do  you  not  then  think  that  I  love  the  king  ?"  "  G— d, 

madam,"  exclaimed  the  ostentatious  blasphemer,  "I  only  wish  I 
were  King  of  France,  and  I  would  soon  be  sure  whether  you  did 
or  did  not." 

The  king,  however, — to  return  to  that  royal  widower, — indubi- 
tably mourned  over  his  loss,  and  regai'ded  with  some  rag,  as  it  were, 
of  the  dignity  of  affection,  her  memory,  and  with  a  tearful  respect. 
He  was  forever  talking  of  her,  even  to  his  mistress ;  and  Lady 
Yarmouth  (as  Madame  Walmoden  was  called)  as  well  as  others, 
had  to  listen  to  the  well-conned  roll  of  her  queenly  virtues,  and  to 
the  royal  conjectures  as  to  what  the  advice  of  Caroline  would  have 
been  in  certain  supervening  contingencies.  Tiiere  was  something 
noble  in  his  remark,  on  ordering  the  payment  to  be  continued  of 
all  salaries  to  her  otficers  and  servants,  and  all  her  benefactions  to 
benevolent  institutions,  that,  if  possible,  nobody  should  suffer  by 
her  death  but  himself.  We  almost  pity  the  wretched  but  imbecile 
old  man,  too,  when  we  see  him  bursting  into  tears  at  the  sight  of 
Walpole,  and  confessing  to  him,  with*  a  helpless  shaking  of  the 
hands,  that  he  had  lost  the  rock  of  his  supjwrt,  his  warmest  friend, 
his  wisest  counsellor,  and  that  henceforth  he  must  be  dreary,  dis- 


CAIIOLINE   WILHELMINA  DOROTHEA. 


373 


consolate,  and  succorless,  utterly  ignorant  whither  to  turn  for  suc- 
cor or  for  sympathy. 

This  feeling  never  entirely  deserted  him ;  albeit,  he  continued 
to  find  much  consolation  where  he  had  done  better  not  to  have 
sought  it.     Still  the  old  memory  would  not  entirely  fade,  the  old 
fire  would  not  entirely  be  quenched.     ''  I  hear,"  said  he,  once  to 
Baron  Brinkman,  as  he  lay  sleepless,  at  early  morn,  on  his  couch, 
"  I  hear  you  have  a  portrait  of  my  wife,  which  was  a  present  from 
her  to  you,  and  that  it  is  a  better  likeness  than  any  I  have  got. 
Let  me  look  at  it."     The  portrait  was  brought,  and  so  placed  be- 
fore the  king  that  he  could  contemplate  it  leisurely  at  his  ease.  "It 
IS  like  her,"  he  murmured.     "  Place  it  nearer  to  me,  and  leave  me 
till  I  ring."     For  two  whole  hours  the  baron  remained  in  attend- 
ance in  an  adjoining  room,  before  he  was  again  summoned  to  his 
master's  presence.     At  the  end  of  that  time,  he  entered  the  king's 
bedroom,  on  being  called.     George  looked  up  at  him  with  eyes  full 
of  tears,  and  muttered,  pointing  to  the  portrait : — "  Take  it  away  ; 
take  it  away !     I  never  yet  saw  the  woman  worthy  to  buckle  her 
shoe."     And  thence  he  arose,  and  went  and  breakfasted  with  Lady 
Yarmouth. 

A  score  of  years  after  Caroline's  death,  he  continued  to  speak  of 

her  only  with  emotion.     His  vanity,  however,  disposed  him  to  be 

considered  gallant  to  the  last.     In  1755,  being  at  Hanover,  he  was 

waited  upon  by  the  Duchess  of  Bruiiswick-Wolfenbuttelandall  her 

unmarried  daughters.     Tlie  provident  and  maternal  duchess  had 

an  object,  and  she  was  not  very  far  from  accomplishing  it.     The 

king  considered  all  these  young  ladies  with  the  speculative  look  of 

both  a  connoisseur  and  an  amateur.     He  was  especially  struck  by 

the  beauty  of  the  eldest,  and  he  lost  no  time  in  proposing  her  as  a 

match  to  his  grandson  and  heir-apparent,  George  Prince  of  Wales, 

then  in  his  minority.     The  prince,  at  the  prompting  of  his  mother, 

very  peremptorily  declined  the  honor  which  had  been  submitted 

for  his  acceptance,  and  the  young  princess,  her  mother,  and  King 

George  were  all  alike  profoundly  indignant.     "  Oh !"  exclaimed 

the  latter  with  ardent  eagerness,  to  Lord  Waldegrave,  *'  Oh,  that 

I  were  but  a  score  of  years  younger,  this  young  lady  should  not 

then  have  been  exposed  to  the  indignity  of  being  refused  by  the 


374 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


Prince  of  Wales,  for  I  would  then  myself  have  made  her  Queen  of 
England !"  That  is  to  say,  that  if  the  young  Princess  of  Bruns- 
wick-Wolfenbuttel  could  only  have  been  introduced  to  him  while 
he  was  sitting  under  the  shadow  of  the  great  sorrow  which  had 
fallen  upon  him  by  the  death  of  Caroline,  he  would  have  found 
solace  for  his  grief,  by  offering  her  his  hand.  However,  it  was  now 
too  late,  and  the  gay  old  monarch,  taking  his  amber-headed  cane, 
feebly  picked  his  way  to  Lady  Yarmouth  and  a  game  at  ombre. 

Lord    Chestei-field   allowed    Caroline    some    degree  of  female 
knowledge.     If  by  this  he  would  infer  that  she  had  only  a  portion 
of  the  knowledge  which  was  commonly  jwssessed  by  the  ladies  her 
contemporaries,  his  lordship  does  her  great  injustice.     There  were 
few  women  of  her  time  who  were  so  well  instructed ;  and  she  was 
not  the  less  well-taught,  for  being  in  a  great  degree  self-taught. 
She  may  have  been  but  superficially  endowed  in  matters  of  theolo- 
gy and  in  ancient  history ;  but,  what  compensated  at  least  for  the 
latter,  she  was  well  acquainted  with  what  more  immediately  con- 
cerned her,  the  history  of  her  own  times.     Lord  Chesterfield  fur- 
ther remarks  that  Caroline  would  have  been  an  agreeable  woman 
in  social  life,  if  she  had  not  aimed  at  being  a  great  one  in  public 
life.     This  would  imply  that  she  had  doubly  failed,  where,  in  truth, 
she  had  doubly  succeeded.     She  icas  agreeable  in  the  circle  of 
social,  and  she  not  only  aimed  at  but  achieved  greatness  in  public 
life.     She  was  as  great  a  queen  as  queen  could  become  in  England, 
under  the  circumstances  in  which  she  was  placed.     Without  any 
constitutional  right,  she  ruled  the  country  with  such  wisdom  that 
her  right  always  seemed  to  rest  on  a  constitutional  basis.     There 
was  that  in  her,  that  had  her  destiny  taken  her  to  Russia  instead 
of  England,  she  would  have  been  as  Catherine  was  in  all  but  her 
uncleanness  ; — not  that,  in  purity  of  mind,  she  was  very  superior  to 
Catherine  the  Unclean. 

The  following  paragraph  in  Lord  Chesterfield's  character  of 
Caroline  is  less  to  be  contested  than  others  in  which  the  noble  au- 
thor has  essayed  to  portray  the  queen.  "  She  professed  wit,  instead 
of  concealing  it ;  and  valued  herself  in  her  skill  in  simulation  and 
dissimulation,  by  which  she  made  herself  many  enemies,  and  not 
one  friend,  even  among  the  women  the  nearest  to  her  person."     It 


CAROLINE  WILHELMINA  DOROTHEA. 


375 


may  very  well  be  doubted,  however,  whether  any  sovereign  ever 
had  a  '*  friend"  in  the  true  acceptation  of  that  term.  It  is  much 
if  they  acquire  an  associate  whose  interest  or  inclination  it  is  to  be 
faithful ;  but  such  a  person  is  not  a  friend. 

Lord  Chesterfield  seems  to  warm  against  her  as  he  proceeds  in 
his  picture.  "  Cunning  and  pei-fidy,"  he  says,  « were  the  means 
she  made  use  of  in  business,  as  all  women  do  for  want  of  a  better." 
This  blow  is  dealt  at  one  poor  woman  merely  for  the  purpose  of 
smiting  all.  Caroline,  no  doubt,  was  full  of  art,  and  on  the  stage 
of  public  life  wa.s  a  mere,  but  most  accomplished,  actress.  It  mu'st 
be  remembered,  too,  that  she  was  surrounded  by  cunning  and  per- 
fi<lious  people.  Society  was  never  so  uni)rincipled  as  it  was  dur- 
ing her  time ;  and  yet  amid  its  unutterable  corruption,  all  women 
were  not  crafty  and  treacherous.  There  were  some  noble  excep- 
tions,—but  these  did  not  lie  much  in  the  way  of  the  deaf  and  dis- 
solute earFs  acquaintance. 

"  She  had  a  dangerous  ambition,"  continues  the  same  author, 
"  for  it  was  attended  with  courage,  and  if  she  had  lived  much  longer 
might  have  proved  fatal  either  to  herself  or  the  constitution."     It 
is  courage,  like  Caroline's,  which  plucks  peril  from  ambition,  but 
does  not  indeed  make  the  latter  less  dangerous  to  the  people,  which 
is,  perhaps,  what  Chesterfield  means.    With  resi)ect  to  the  queen's 
religion,  he  says :— ''  After  puzzling  herself  in  all  the  whimsies  and 
fant}i.stical  speculations  of  different  sects,  she  fixed  herself  ultimately 
in  Deism,  believing  a  future  state."     In  this  he  merely  repeats  a 
story,  which,  probably,  originated    with   those    whose    views   on 
Church  questions  were  of  a  "higher"  tendency  than  those  of  her 
majest}'.     And  after  repeating  others,  he  contradicts  himself,  for 
he  has  no  sooner  stated  that  the  queen  was  not  an  agreeable  wo- 
man, because  she  aimed  at  being  a  great  one,  than  he  adds,  "  Upon 
the  whole,  the  agreeable  woman  was  liked  by  most  people — but 
the  q^teen  was  neither  esteemed,  beloved,  nor  trusted,  by  anybody 
but  the  king."     At  least,  she  was  not  despised  by  everybody ;  and 
that,  considering  the  times  in  which  she  lived,  and  the  discordant 
parties  over  whom  she  really  reigned,  is  no  slight  commendation. 
It  is  a  praise  which  cannot  be  awarded  to  the  king. 

Let  us  add,  that  not  only  has  Chesterfield  said  of  Caroline  that 


376 


LIVES  OF  TUE  QUEENS    OF  ENGLAND. 


she  settled  down  to  Deism,  "  believing  in  a  future  state,"  but  he 
has  said  the  same,  and  in  precisely  the  same  terms,  of  Pope,  and 
upon  Pope's  authority,  of  Atterbury,  Bishop  of  Rochester.  Here 
is  at  least  a  double,  and,  perhaps,  as  we  should  hope,  a  tri})le  error. 
The  popular  standai-d  of  morality  was  deplorably  low  throughout 
the  reigns  of  the  first  two  Georges,  and  decorous  as  was  the  de- 
portment of  Caroline,  her  toleration  of  what  would  now  be  regarded 
as  infamous,  only  gave  her  quiet  at  home  to  aUbrd  an  apology  for 
vice  abroad. 

To  prove  that  the  popular  standard  was  low,  it  is  only  necessary 
to  point  to  the  scorn  which  has  clung,  like  ivy,  to  the  towering- 
reputation  of  Marlborough.     At  the  court  of  Caroline,  while  that 
great  man  was  complacently  allowed  to  be  unsurpassed  as  com- 
mander and  statesman,  his  weaknesses,  "  which  leaned  to  virtue's 
side,"  were  condemned  with  more  energy  than  if  they  had  really 
been  vices.     He  was  ridiculed  for  the   unwavering  tidelity  and 
affection  which  he  manifested  towards  his  wife.     There  were  few 
husbands  like  him,  at  the  time,  in  either  respect.     He  was  satir- 
ized for  being  superior  to  almost  irresistible  temptations ;  he  was 
laughed  at  for  having  prayers  in  his  camp,  for  turning  reverently 
to  God,  before  he  turned  fiercely  against  his  foes ;  the  epigram- 
matists were  ))articularly  severe  against  him,  because  he  was  hon- 
est enough  to  pay  his  debts  and  live  within  his  income.     But  "  his 
meanness  ? "  well,  his  meanness  might  rather  be  called  prudence, 
and  if  his  censurers  had  nourished  in  themselves  something  of  the 
same  quality,  it  would  have  been  the  better  for  themselves  and 
their  contemporaries,  and,  indeed,  none  the  worse  for  their  de- 
scendants.    One  of  the  alleged  instances  of  ]M  a  rl  bo  rough's  mean- 
ness is  cited,  in  his  having  once  played  at  whist  with  Dean  Jones, 
at  which  he  left  off,  the  winner  of  sixpence.     The  dean  delayed  to 
pay  the  stake,  and  the  duke  asked  for  it,  statu)g  that  he  wanted  the 
sixpence  for  a  chair  to  go  home  in.    It  seems  to  me  that  the  mean- 
ness rested  with  the  rich  dean  in  not  paying,  imd  not  with  the  mil- 
lionnaire  duke  in  requiring  to  be  paid. 

No  man  ever  spoke  more  disparagingly  of  Marlborough,  than 
his  enemy  Lord  Peterborough,  though  even  he  did  justice  to  Marl- 
borough's abilities ;  but  Lord  Peterborough  was  especially  severe 


CAROLINE  WILHELMINA    DOROTHEA. 


377 


on  the  duKe  s  love  of  money.     The  latter  spent  wisely,  the  former 
squandered  profusely,  and  cheated  his  heirs.     The  duke  in  the 
Bath-rooms,  dunning  a  dean  for  sixpence,  is  not  so  degrading  a 
picture  as  Peterborough,  in  the  Bath  market,  cheapening  commo- 
dities, and  walking  about  in  his  blue  ribbon  and  star,  whh  a  fowl 
in  his  hand,  and  a  cabbage  or  a  cauliflower  under  either  arm. 
Peterborough  was  lewd  and  sensual,  vain,  passionate,  and  incon- 
stant, a  mocker  of  Christianity,  and  a  remorseless  transgressor  of 
the  laws  of  God  and  man.     He  was  superior  to  ISIarlborougli  only 
in  one  thing— in  spelling.     A  poor  boast.     Compare  the  duke, 
leading  a  well-regulated  life,  and  walking  daily  with  his  God,  to 
Peterborough,  whose  only  approaches  to  religion  consisted  in  his 
once  going  to  hear  Penn  preach,  because  he  "  liked  to  be  civil  to 
all  religions,"  and  in  his  saying  of  Fenelon,  that  he  was  a  delicious 
creature,  but  dangerous,  because  acquauitance  with  him  was  apt  to 
make  men  i)ious ! 

Marlborough's  favorite  general,  Cadogan,  was  one  of  the  orna- 
ments of  the  court  of  George  and  Caroline,  down  to  1726.  They 
had  reason  to  regard  him,  for  he  was  a  stanch  Whig,  but  rather, 
as  a  dii)lomatist,  perilling  what  he  was  commissioned  to  presers-e. 
His  morality  is  evidenced  m  his  remark  made  when  some  one  in- 
quired, on  the  committal  of  Atterbury  to  the  Tower,  for  Jacobite 
deahngs,  what  should  be  done  with  the  bishop  ?  '-  Done  with  him ! " 
roared  Cadogan:  ^'  throw  him  to  the  lions  !"  Atterbury,  on  hearing 
of  this  meek  suggestion,  burst  out  with  an  explosion  of  alliterative 
fierceness,  and  denounced  the  earl  to  Pope,  "  as  bold,  bad,  blunder- 
ing, blustering,  bloody,  bully  I"  The  episcopal  sense  of  forgive- 
ness was  on  a  par  with  the  sentiment  of  mercy  which  mfluenced 
the  bosom  of  the  soldier. 

But  Marlborough's  social,  severe,  and  domestic  virtues  were  not 
asked  for  in  the  commanders  of  following  years.  Thus  Macartney, 
despite  the  blood  upon  his  hand,  stained  in  the  duel  between  the 
Duke  of  Hamilton  and  Lord  Mohun,  was  made  colonel  of  the 
twenty-first  regiment,  six  years  previous  to  the  queen's  death. 
General  Webb,  who  died  two  years  previously,  was  thought  noth- 
ing the  worse  for  his  Thnasonic  propensity,  and  wfis  forever  boast- 
ing of  his  courage,  and  alluding  to  the  four  wounds  he  had  received 


378 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS   OF  ENGLAND. 


in  the  battle  of  TVynendael.  "  My  dear  general,"  said  the  Duke 
of  Argyle,  on  one  of  these  occasions,  "  I  wish  you  had  received  a 
fifth — in  your  tongue ;  for  then  everybody  else  would  have  talked 
of  your  deeds ! " 

Still  more  unfavorably  shines  another  of  the  generals  of  this 
reign.  I  allude  to  Lord  Cobham,  who  did  not  lack  bravery,  and 
who  owes  most  of  his  celebrity  to  Pope.  He  did  not  care  how 
wicked  a  man  was,  provided  only  he  were  a  gentleman  in  his 
vices ;  and  he  was  guilty  of  an  act  which  INIiirlborough  would  liave 
contemplated  with  horror — namely,  tried  hard  to  make  infidels  of 
two  promising  young  gentlemen — Gilbert  West  and  George,  sub- 
sequently Lord,  Lyttelton. 

Marlborough,  too,  was  vastly  superior  in  morality  to  Blakeney, 
that  brave  soldier  and  admirable  dancer  of  Irish  jigs ;  but  who 
was  so  given  to  amiable  excesses,  of  which  court  and  courtiers 
thought  little  at  this  liberal  period,  that  he  drank  punch  till  he 
was  paralyzed.  And  surely  it  was  better,  like  Mailborough,  to 
play  for  sixpences,  than,  like  Wade,  to  built  up  and  throw  down 
fortunes,  night  after  night,  at  the  gaming-table.  But  there  was  a 
more  celebrated  general  at  the  court  of  the  second  George  than 
the  road-constructing  Wade.  John  Dalrymj)le,  P^arl  of  Stair, 
was  one  of  those  men  in  liigh  station  whose  acts  tend  to  the  weal 
or  woe  of  inferior  men  who  imitate  them.  Stair  was  forever 
gaily  allowing  his  expenditure  to  exceed  his  income.  His  sense 
of  honor  was  not  so  keen  but  that  he  would  go  in  disguise  amon"- 
the  Jacobites,  profess  to  be  of  them,  and  betray  their  confidence. 
This  dishonorable  course  of  proceeding  is  now  unknown  at  every 
court  in  the  world  save  that  of  St.  Peter.sburgh.  There,  noble- 
men \ery  unconcernedly  accept  the  offices  of  spies,  and  officers 
bearing  commissions  kiss  the  hand  of  their  exemplai-y  master  on 
taking  leave  to  visit  foreign  arsenals,  as  friends,  but  with  a  very 
hostile  end  in  view.  Nay,  it  is  said,  that  some  of  the  ladies  even 
of  the  imperial  family  are  made  serviceable  lor  the  same  end,  and 
as  interesting  invalids,  sojourn  on  the  sea-coasts  of  foreign  lands, 
and  make  notes  of  all  they  observe,  a  knowledge  of  which  may 
prove  of  value  in  some  future  emergency.  This  immorality  has 
gone  out  of  fashion  with  us  for  more  than  a  century,  but  Lord 


CAROLINE  WILHELMINA  DOROTHEA. 


379 


Stair,  and  the  court  of  George  the  Second  generally,  would  have 
looked  upon  it  rather  as  a  virtue.     And  yet,  even  Lord  Stair 
could  act  with  honest  independence.     He  voted  against  Walpole's 
excise  scheme,  in  1733,  although  he  knew  that  such  a  vote  would 
cost  him  aU  his  honors.     He  was  accordingly  turned  out  from  his 
post  of  lord  high  admiral  for  Scotland.     Caroline  wa^  angry  at 
his  vote,  yet  sorry  for  its  consequences.     "  Why,"  said  she  to  him, 
"why  were  you  so  silly  as  to  thwart  Walpole's  views?"     "Be- 
cause,  madam,"  was  the  reply,  "  I  wished  you  and  your  family 
better  than  to  support  such  a  project."     Stair  merits,  too,  a  word 
of  commendation  for  his  protesting  against  the  merciless  conduct 
of  the  government  with  respect  to  the  captive  Jacobites ;  and,  like 
Marlborough,  he  was  of  praiseworthy  conduct  in   private  life, 
zealous  for  Presbyterianism,  yet  tolerant  of  all  other  denomina- 
tions, and  by  his  intense  attachment  to  a  Protestant  succession,  one 
of  the  most  valuable  supporters  of  the  throne  of  George  and  Caro- 
line.    Both  the  men  were  consistent;  but  equal  praise  cannot  be 
awarded  to  another  good  soldier  of  the  period.     The  Duke  of 
Argyle,  who,  when  out  of  office,  declared  that  a  standing  army,  in 
time  of  peace,  was  ever  fatal  either  to  prince  or  nation  ;  subse- 
quently, when  in  office,  as  deliberately  maintained  that  a  standing 
army  nevfer  had  in  any  country  the  chief  hand  in  destroyin<r  the 
liberties  of  the  State.     This  sort  of  disgraceful  versatility  marked 
his  entire  political  career ;  and  it  is  further  said  of  him  that  he 
''  was  meanly  ambitious  of  emolument  as  a  politician,  and  con- 
temptibly mercenary  as  a  patron."      He  had,  however,  one  rare, 
and,  by  no  means,  unimportant  virtue.     «  The  strictest  economy 
was  enforced  in  his  household,  and  his  tradesmen  were  punctually 
paid  once  a  month."     This  virtue  was  quite  enough  to  purchase 
sneers  for  him  in  the  cabinet  of  King  George  and  the  court  of 
Queen  Caroline.     In  the  last  year  of  the  reign  of  that  king  died 
General  Hawley,  whose  severity  to  his  soldiers,  agreeable'^as  it 
was  to  George  and  to  his  son,  the  Duke  of  CumbeHand,  acquired 
lor  him  in  the  ranks  the  title  of  lord  chief-justice.     An  extract 
Jrom  his  will  may  serve  to  show  that  the  "lord  chief-justice"  had 
httle  m  him  of  the  Christian  soldier.     "  I  direct  and  order  that,  as 
there 's  now  a  peace,  and  I  may  die  the  common  way,  my  carcase 


380 


LITES  OF  THK  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


may  be  put  anywhere,  'tis  equal  to  me ;  but  I  will  have  no  more 
expense  or  ridiculous  show  thau  if  a  poor  soldier,  who  is  as  good 
a  man,  were  to  be  buried  from  the  hospital.  The  priest,  I  con- 
clude, will  have  his  fee,  let  the  puppy  take  it.  Pay  the  carpenter 
for  the  carcase -box.  I  give  to  my  sister  5000/.  As  to  my  other 
relations,  I  have  none  who  want,  and  as  I  never  was  married,  I 
have  no  heirs ;  I  have,  therefore,  long  since  taken  it  into  my  head 
to  adopt  one  son  and  heir,  at\er  the  manner  of  the  Romans ;  who 

I  hereafter  name.  Sec I  have  written  all  this,"  he  adds,  "  wi^h 

my  own  hand,  and  this  I  do  because  I  hate  all  priests  of  all  pro- 
fessions, and  have  the  worst  opinion  of  all  members  of  the  bar." 

Having  glanced  at  these  social  traits  of  men  who  were  among 
the  foremost  of  those  who  were  above  the  rank  of  mere  courtiers 
around  the  throne  of  the  husband  of  Caroline,  let  us  quit  the 
palace,  and  seek  for  other  samples  of  the  people  and  the  times,  m 
the  prisons,  the  private  houses,  and  the  public  streets. 

AVith  regard  to  the  prisons,  it  is  easier  to  tell  than  to  conceive 
the  horrors  even  of  the  debtors'  prisons  of  those  days.     Out  of 
them,  curiously  enough,  arose  the  colonization  of  the  Stat*^  of 
Georgia.     General  Oglethorpe  having  heard  that  a  friend  named 
Castle,  an  architect  by  profession,  had  died  in  consequence  of  the 
hardships  inflicted  on  him  in  the  Fleet  Prison,  instituted  an  inquiiy 
by  which  discovery  was  made  of  some   inicjuitous   proceedinn^. 
The  unfortunate  debtors,  unable  to  pay  their  fees  to  the  jailors, 
who  had  no  salary,  and  lived  upon  what  they  could  extort  from 
the  prisoners  and  their  friends,  were  subjected  to  torture,  chains, 
and  starvation.     The  authorities  of  the  j>rison  were  prosecuted 
and  penalties  of  tine  and  imprisonment  laid  upon  them.     A  better 
result  was,  a  parliamentary-  grunt,  with  a  public  subscription,  and 
private  donations,  whereby  Oglethorpe  was  enabled  to  found  a  colony 
of  liberated  insolvents  in  Georgia.     The  half  of  the  settlers  were 
either   insolvent   simply  because   their   richer   and   extravagant 
debtors  neglected  to  pay  their  bills  ;  the  other  half  were  the  victims 
of  their  own  extravagance. 

There  was,  at  the  same  tune,  some  outward  show  of  zeal  for  the 
cause  of  religion.  Thus,  the  Rev.  John  Woolston,  being  prose- 
cuted for  writing  four  treatises  on  the  birth  and  miracles  of  our 


CAROLINE    WILHELMINA   DOROTHEA.  881 

Saviour,  and  treating  the  subject  so  as  to  tend  to  the  subversion 
of  the  Christian  religion,  was  found  guilty,  was  sentenced  to  be 
hned  and  imprisoned,  and  to  give  security  for  lus  future  good 
behavior,  himself  in  100/.,  and  his  sureties  in  like  sum.  I  mention 
this  case,  because  similar  offence  is  committed  in  the  days  of  Queen 
Victoria,  as  it  was  in  the  time  of  Queen  Caroline.  The  only  dif- 
ference  is  that  we  seldom  put  the  blasphemers  to  any  other  bar 
but  that  of  public  opinion,  and  we  leave  to  Mr.  Henry  Ro-ers,and 
the  hke  nrifted  champions,  to  smite  the  offenders  with  the  tomahawk 
of  argument  and  proof. 

Bad  roads  and  ill-lighted  ways  are  said  to  be  proofs  of  indiffer- 
ent  civilization,  when  they  are  to  be  found  in  the  neighborhood  of 
great  cities.  If  this  be  so,  then  civilization  was  not  ^reatly 
advanced  among  us  in  this  respect,  a  century  and  a  quarter  ago. 
Thus  we  read  that  on  the  21st  of  November,  1730,  "the  kin- and 
queen  coming  from  Kew  Queen  to  St.  James's,  were  overturned 
m  their  coach,  near  Lord  Peterborough's,  at  Parson's  Green,  a]x)ut 
SIX  m  the  evening,  the  wind  having  blown  out  the  flambeaux,  so 
that  the  coachman  could  not  see  his  way.  But  their  majesties 
received  no  hurt,  nor  the  two  ladies  who  were  in  the  coach  with 
them. 

If  here  was  want  of  civilization,  there  was  positive  barbaritv  in 
other  matters.     For  instance,  here  is  a  paragraph  from  the  n;ws 
of  the  day    under  date,  June  10th,  1731.     "Joseph  Crook,  alias 
Sir  Peter  Stranger,  stood  in  the  pillory  at   Charing  Cross  for 
forging  a  deed,  and  after  he  had  stood  an  hour,  a  chair  was  brou^^ht 
to  the  pillory  scaffold,  in  which  he  was  placed,  and  tho  hancnnan 
with  a  pruning-knife.  cut  off*  both  his  ears,  and  with  a  pair  of 
scissors  slit  both  his  nostrils,  all  which  he  bore  with  much  patience  • 
but  when  his  right  nostril  was  seared  with  a  hot  iron,  the  pain' 
was  so  violent  he  could  not  bear  it ;  whereupon  Iiis  left  nostril  was 
not  seared,  but  he  was  carried  bleeding  to  a  neighboring  tavern 
where  he  was  as  merry  at  dinner  with  his  friends,  aftor  a"sur<reon 
had  dressed  his  wounds,  as  if  notliing  of  the  kind  had  happe'ned 
He  was  afterwards  imprisoned  for  life  in  the  King's  Bench  and 
the  issues  and  profits  of  his  lands  were  confiscated  for  his'  life, 
according  to  his.  sentence." 


I 


382 


LIVES  OF  THE    QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


It  was  the  period  when  savage  punisliment  was  very  arbitrarily 
administered;  and  shortly  after  Sir  Peter  was  mangled,  without 
detriment  to  his  gaiety,  at  Charing  Cross,  the  gallant  Captain 
Petre  had  very  nearly  got  hanged  at  Constantinople.  That 
gallant  sailor  and  notable  courtier  had  entertained  our  ambassador, 
Lord  Kinneal,  on  board  his  ship,  and  honored  him,  on  leaving  the 
vessel  at  nine  o'clock  at  night,  with  a  salute  of  fifteen  guns.  The 
sultan  happened  to  have  gone  to  bed,  and  was  aroused  from  his 
early  slumbers  by  the  report.  He  was  so  enraged,  that  he 
ordered  the  captain  to  be  seized,  bastinadoed,  and  hanged ;  and  so 
little  were  King  George  and  Queen  Caroline,  and  England  to 
boot,  thought  of  in  Turkey  at  that  day,  that  it  was  with  the 
greatest  difficulty  that  the  British  ambassador  could  prevail  on  the 
sultan  to  pardon  the  offender.  The  court  laughed  at  the  incident. 
Cromwell  would  have  avenged  the  affront. 

But  we  must  not  fancy  that  we  were  much  less  savage  in  idea 
or  in  action  at  home.  There  was  one  John  Waller,  in  1732,  who 
stood  in  the  pillory  in  Seven  Dials,  for  falsely  swearing  against 
persons  whom  he  accused  as  highway  robbers.  The  culprit  was 
dreadfully  pelted  during  the  hour  he  stood  exposed,  but  at  the  end 
of  that  time  the  mob  tore  him  down  and  trampled  him  to  death. 
"Whether  this  too  was  considered  a  laugliable  matter  at  court,  is 
not  so  certain.  Even  if  so,  the  courtiers  were  soon  made  serious 
by  the  universal  sickness  which  prevailed  in  London  in  the  begin- 
ning of  the  year  1732.  Headache  and  fever  were  the  common 
symi)toms,  very  few  escaped,  and  a  vast  number  died.  In  the 
last  week  of  January,  not  less  than  fifteen  hundred  perished  of  the 
epidemic  within  the  bills  of  mortality.  There  had  not  been  so 
severe  a  visitation  since  the  period  of  the  plague.  But  our 
wonder  may  cease  that  headache  and  fever  prevailed,  when  we 
recollect  that  gin  was  being  sold,  contrary  to  law,  in  not  less  than 
eight  thousand  different  places  in  the  metropolis,  and  that  drunk- 
enness was  not  the  vice  of  the  lower  orders  only. 

I  have  here  noticed  a  few  of  the  social  traits  of  the  times  down 
to  the  period  of  the  death  of  Queen  Caroline.  To  return  finally 
to  that  queen,  it  has  been  truly  said  of  her,  that  with  all  her 
opportunities,  she  never  abused  the  power  which  she  held  over 


CAROLINE    WILHELMINA    DOROTHEA. 


883 


the  king's  mind,  by  employing  it  for  the  promotion  of  her  own 
friends  and  favorites.  This,  however,  is  but  negative,  or  question- 
able  praise.  There  is,  too,  an  anecdote  extant,  the  tendency  of 
which  is  to  show  that  she  was  somewhat  given  to  the  enjoyment 
of  uncontroUedly  exercising  the  power  she  had  attained,  for  her 
personal  purposes.  Thus,  she  had  prepared  plans  for  enclosing 
St.  James's  Park,  shutting  out  the  public,  and  keeping  it  for  the 
exclusive  jdeasure  of  herself  and  the  royal  family.  It  was  by 
mere  chance,  when  she  had  matured  her  plans,  that  she  asked  a 
nobleman  connected  with  the  board  which  then  attended  to  what 
our  board  of  Woods  and  Forests  neglects,  what  the  carrying  out 
of  such  a  plan  might  cost.  "  Madam,"  said  the  witty  and  right- 
seeuig  functionary,  «  such  a  plan  might  cost  three  crowns."  Caro- 
line was  as  ready  of  wit  as  he,  and  not  only  understood  the  hint, 
but  showed  she  could  apply  it,  by  abandoning  her  intention. 

And   yet,  she  doubtless  did  so  with   regret,  for  gardens   and 
their   arrangements    were    her    especial    delight;    and   she   did 
succeed  in  taking  a  portion  of  Hyde   Park  from  the  public,  and 
throwing  the  same  into  Kensington  Gardens.    The  queen  thought 
she  compensated  for  depriving  the  public  of  land  by  giving  them 
more  water.     There  was  a  rivulet  which  ran  through  the"  park, 
and  this  she  converted,  by  help  from  Ilampstcad  streams  and  land 
drainage  near  at  hand,  into  what  is  so  magniloquently  styled  the 
Seri)entine  River.     It  is  not  a  river,  nor  is  it  serpentine,  except 
by  a  slight  twist  of  the  imagination.     It  remains  an  ornament  of 
the  park,  and  a  peril  to  all  who  linger  on  its  banks.     The  public 
health  is  the  last  thing  cared  for  by  the  Board  which  is  supposed 
to  be  most  concerned  with  it.     Were  it  otherwise,  we  might  hope 
tliat  a  suggestion  in  the  right  direction   would  be  productive  of 
good   results ;    but    lie   who  submits  to  a  government  office  any 
project  tending  to  promote  the  welfare,  honor,  and  glory  of  Eng- 
land,  is  received  with  as  much  cordiality  as  a  wasp  in  a  bee-hive ; 
and  so  Caroline's  Serpentine  will  continue  to  stand,  stink,  and 
slay. 

This  queen  was  equally  busy  with  her  garden  at  Richmond  and 
at  Kew.  The  king  used  to  praise  her  for  effecting  great  wonders 
at  little  cost ;  but  the  fact  is,  that  she  contrived  to  squeeze  con- 


884 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


tributions  from  the  ministrj^,  of  which  the  monarcli  knew  nothing. 
She  had  a  fondness  too,  rather  than  a  taste,  for  garden  archi- 
tecture, and  was  given  to  build  grottoes  and  crowd  them  with 
statues.  A  chapter  might  be  written  upon  the  droll  juxtaposition 
to  which  she  brought  the  counterfeit  presentments  of  defunct 
sages,  warriors,  and  heroes ;  but  space,  happily  for  the  reader, 
fails  to  admit  of  that  chapter  being  written. 

I  will  only  add  here,  that  there  was  one  child  of  George  and 
Caroline  more  especially  anxious  than  any  other  to  afford  her 
widowed  father  consolation,  on  the  death  of  the  queen.  That  child 
was  the  haughty  Anne,  Princess  of  Orange.     She  had  strong,  but 
most  unreasonable,  hopes  of  succeeding  to  the  influence  which  had 
so  long  been  enjoyed  by  her  royal  mother,  and  she  came  over  in 
hot  haste  from  Holland,  on  the   plea  of  benefiting  her  health, 
which  was  then  in  a  precarious  state.     The  king,  however,  was 
quite  a  match  for  his  ambitious  and  presuming  child,  and  pe- 
remptorily rejected  her   proffered   condolence.     This   was   done 
with  such  prompt  decision,  that  the  princess  was  compelled  to 
return  to  Holland  immediately.     The  king  would  not  allow  her, 
it  is  said,  to  pass  a  second  night  in  the  metropolis.     He  probably 
remembered   her   squabbles    with   his   father's   '^favorite,"  Miss 
Brett ;  and  the  disconsolate  man  was  not  desirous  of  havincr  his 
peace  disturbed  by  the  renewal  of  similar  scenes   with  his^own 
"  favorite,"  Lady  Yarmouth.     It  was  an  exemplary  and  edityinnr 
family !  ® 

Of  all  the  eulogies  passed  upon  Caroline,  few,  if  any,  were  so 
profuse  in  their  laudation  as  that  contained  in  a  sermon  preached 
before  the  council  at  Boston,  in  America,  by  the  Rev.  Samuel 
Mather.  There  was  not  a  virtue  known  which  the  transatlantic 
chaplain  did  not  attribute  to  her.  As  woman,  the  minister  pro- 
nounced her  perfect ;  as  queen,  she  was  that  and  sublime  to  boot. 
As  regent,  she  possessed,  for  the  time,  the  king's  wisdom  added 
to  her  own.  Good  Mr.  Mather  too  is  warrant  for  the  soundness 
of  her  fahh  ;  and  he  applied  to  her  the  words  of  Judith:  "  There 
was  none  that  gave  her  an  ill  word,  for  she  feared  God  greatly." 

William  IH.  is  recorded  as  having  said  of  his  consort  Mary, 
that  if  he  could  believe  any  mortal  was  born  without  the  contagion 


CAROLINE  WILIIELMINA    DOROTHEA.  S85 

of  sin  he  would  believe  it  of  the  queen.     Upon  citinc.  which  pas- 
sage, the   Bostonian  exclaims:  "And  oh,  gracious  Carol  neth; 
respected  consort  was  ready  to  make  the  same  observaHon  o^f 
hee ;  so  pure  so  chaste,  so  religious  wast  thou,  and  so  in  all  Ic^ 

m  an  age  of  luxury  and  wantonness."     And  he  thus  proceeds  • 
Ihe  p.ous  queen  was  constant  at  her  secret  devotions ;  and  she 

oved  the  habitation  of  God's  house;   and  from  regard  to    L 
divme  n,st.tut.ons,  with  delight  and  steadiness  attended  on  them 
And  as  she  esteemed  and  practised  eveiy  duty  of  piety  ^^rds* 

he  Almighty,  so  she  detested  and  frowned  on'^.ve  y^fon  and 
Unng  that  made  but  an  appearance  of  what  w.  wicked  L^  i:^ 

CL,  1  /.'''^'""'^  every  duty  incumbent  on  her  towards 
he  b  loved  subjects,  so  she  deeply  reverenced  the  king;  and 
^hde  Ins  majesty  honors  her  and  will  grieve  for  her  to  his  last 
moments,  her  royal  offspring  rise  up  and  call  her  blessed."  '  And 
h.mcdental  mention  of  the  royal  offspring  induces  the  preacher 
to  grow  artistical,  and  he  forthwith  paints  tlie  following  family 
I)icture : —  *=    <*i"jv 

"  Seven  are  the  children  whieli  slie  ha.s  left  behind  her.    These 
l.kc  the  noble  Roman  Cornelia,  she  took  to  be  her  chief  oma' 
"lents.     Accordingly,  it  was  both  her  care  and  her  nlea.sure  to 
nnprove  their  minds  and  form  their  manners,  that  so  they  mi"ht 
hereafter  prove  blessings  to  the  nation  and  the  world.     Wlnl  a 
lovely,  heavenly  sight  must  it  have  been  to  behold  the  maie'stic 
royal  matron,  with  her  faithful  and  obsequious  offspring  around 
l.er.     So  the  planetary  orbs  about  the  sun  gravitate  towards  it, 
keep  their  proper  distance  from  it,  and  receive  from  it  the  mea- 
sures of  hght  and  influence  respectively  belonging  to  them.     Such 
«a»-oh,  fatal  grief '—such  was  the  late  most  excellent  queen." 

1  he  issue  of  the  marriage  of  Caroline  and  George  II.  comprised 
four  sons  and  five  daughters-namely,  Frederick  Louis,  Prince  of 
"ales,  born  January  20th,  1-06;  Anne,  Princess  of  Orange,  bom 
October  22,  1709  ;  Caroline  Elizabeth,  born  May  31,  1713-  Wil 
1mm  Augustus,  Duke  of  Cumberland,  lH>m  April  15th,  172r  the 
Irineess  Mary,  bom  Februarj- 22,  1723;  the  Princess  Louisa, 
born  December  7,  1724.     AU  these  survived  the  queen.     There 


386 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGTAND. 


was  also  a  prince  born  in  November,  1716,  who  did  not  survive 
his  birth ;  and  George  William,  Duke  of  Gloucester,  born  Novem- 
ber 2,  1717,  who  died  in  Februaiy  of  the  year  following. 

It  is  only  necessary  to  add  further,  that  at  the  funeral  of  Caro- 
line, which  was  called  "  decently  private,"  but  which  was,  in  truth, 
marked  by  much  of  splendor  and  ceremony,  not  the  king,  but  the 
Princess  Amelia,  acted  as  chief  mourner,  and  that  the  anthem, 
« The  Ways  of  Zion  do  mourn,"  was  "  set  to  Musick  by  Mr. 
Handell."  Of  all  the  verses  poured  out  on  the  occasion  of  her 
death,  two  specimens  are  subjoined.  They  show  how  the  queen 
was  respectively  dealt  with  by  the  Democritus  and  Heraclitus  of 
her  subjects : — 

"  Here  lies,  lamented  by  the  poor  and  great — 

(Prop  of  the  Church,  and  glory  of  the  State) — 

A  woman,  late  a  mighty  monarch's  queen, 

Above  all  flattery,  and  above  all  spleen  ; 

Loved  by  the  good,  and  hated  by  the  evil, 

Pursued,  now  dead,  by  satire  and  the  devil. 

With  steadfast  zeal  (which  kindled  in  her  youth) 

A  foe  to  bigotry,  a  friend  to  truth  ; 

Too  generous  for  the  lust  of  lawless  rule, 

Nor  Persecution's  nor  Oppression's  tool : 

In  Locke's,  in  Clarke's  in  Hoadley's  paths  she  trod, 

Nor  fear'd  to  follow  where  tfiei/  follow'd  God. 

To  all  oblijrinjj  and  to  all  sincere, 

Wise  to  choose  friendships,  firm  to  persevere. 

Free  without  rudeness;  great  without  disdain  ; 

An  hypocrite  in  naught  but  hiding  pain. 

To  courts  she  taught  the  rules  of  just  expense, 

Join'd  with  economy,  magnificence  ; 

Attention  to  a  kingdom's  vast  affairs, 

Attention  to  the  meanest  mortal's  cares  ; 

Profusion  might  consume,  or  avarice  hoard, 

'Twas  hers  to  feed,  unknown,  the  scanty  board. 

Thus  of  each  human  excellence  possess'd, 

With  as  few  faults  as  e'er  attend  the  best  ; 

Dear  to  her  lord,  to  all  her  children  dear, 

And  (to  the  last  her  thought,  her  conscience  clear) 

Forgiving  all,  forgiven  and  approved. 

To  peaceful  worlds  her  peaceful  soul  removed." 

The  above  paneofyric  was  drawn  up  a<  a  reply  to  an  epitaph  of 


CAROLINE  WILHELMINA  DOROTHEA.       337 

another  character,  which  was  then  in  circulation,  from  the  pen  of 
a  writer  who  contemplated  his  subject  in  another  point  of  view. 
It  was  to  this  effect : — 

*•  Here  lies  unpitied,  both  by  Church  and  State, 

The  subject  of  their  flattery  and  hate  ; 

Flatter'd  by  those  on  whom  her  favors  flow'd, 

Hated  for  favors  impiously  bestow'd  ; 

Who  aim'd  the  Church  by  Churchmen  to  betray, 

And  hoped  to  share  in  arbitrary  sway. 

In  Tindal's  and  in  Hoadley's  paths  she  trod, 

An  hypocrite  in  all  but  di.sbelief  in  God. 

Promoted  luxury,  encouraged  vice. 

Herself  a  sordid  slave  to  avarice. 

True  friendship's  tender  love  ne'er  touch'd  her  heart, 

Falsehood  appear'd  in  vice  disguised  by  art. 
Fawring  and  haughty  ;  when  familiar,  rude  ; 
And  never  civil  seem'd  but  to  delude. 
Inquisitive  in  trifling,  mean  affairs, 
Heedless  of  public  good  or  orphan's  tears  ; 
To  her  own  offspring  mercy  she  denied, 
And,  unforgiving,  unforgiven  died" 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE    REIGN    OF   THE    WIDOWER* 

The  era  of  peace  ended  with  Caroline.  Walpole  endeavored 
to  prolong  the  era,  but  Spanish  aggression  against  the  English 
flag  in  South  America  drove  the  ministry  into  a  war.  The 
success  of  Vernon  at  Porto  Bello  rendered  the  war  highly  popular. 
The  public  enthusiasm  was  sustained  by  Anson,  but  it  was  mate- 
rially lowered  by  our  defeat  at  Carthagena,  which  prepared  the 
way  for  the  downfall  of  the  minister  of  Caroline.  Numerous  and 
powerful  were  the  opponents  of  Walpole,  and  no  section  of  them 
exhibited  more  fierceness  or  better  organization  than  that  of  which 
the  elder  son  of  Caroline  was  the  founder  and  great  captain. 

Frederick,  liowever,  was  versatile  enough  to  be  able  to  devote 
as  much  time  to  pleasure  as  to  politics. 


388 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


As  the  roue  Duke  of  Orleans,  when  Regent,  and  indeed  before 
he  exercised  that  responsible  office,  was  given  to  stroll  with  his 
witty  but  graceless  followers,  and  a  band  of  graceful  but  witless 
ladies,  through  the  fairs  of  St.  Laurent  and  St.  Germain,  tarrying 
there  till  midnight  to  see  and  hear  the  drolleries  of  "  Punch"  and 
the  plays  of  the  puppets,  so  the  princes  of  the  royal  blood  of 
England  condescended,  with  much  alacrity,  to  perambulate  Bar- 
tholomew Fair,  and  to  enjoy  the  delicate  amusements  then  and 
there  provided.  An  anonymous  writer,  some  thirty  years  ago, 
inserted  in  the  "  New  European  Magazine,"  from  an  older  publi- 
cation, an  account  of  a  royal  visit,  in  1740,  to  the  ancient  revels  of 
St.  Bartholomew.  In  this  amusing  record  we  are  told,  that  *'  the 
multitude  behind  was  impelled  violently  forwards,  a  broad  blaze 
of  red  light  issuing  from  a  score  of  flambeaux,  streamed  into  the 
air ;  several  voices  were  loudly  shouting,  *  Room  there  for  Prince 
Frederick !  make  way  for  the  prince  I '  and  there  was  that  long 
sweep  heard  to  pass  over  the  ground,  which  indicates  the  approach 
of  a  grand  and  ceremonious  train.  Presently  the  pressure  be- 
came much  greater,  the  voices  louder,  the  light  stronger,  and,  as 
the  train  came  onward,  it  might  be  seen  that  it  consisted,  firstly  of 
a  party  of  yeomen  of  the  guards  clearing  the  way ;  then  several 
more  of  them  bearing  flambeaux,  and  flanking  the  procession: 
while  in  the  midst  of  all  appeared  a  tall,  fair,  and  handsome  young 
man,  having  something  of  a  plump  foreign  visage,  seemingly  about 
four-and-thirty  years  of  age,  dressed  in  a  ruby-colored  frock-coat, 
verj-  richly  guarded  with  gold  lace,  and  having  his  long  flowing 
hair  curiously  curled  over  his  forehead  and  at  the  sides,  and 
finished  with  a  very  large  bag  and  courtly  queue  behind.  The  air 
of  dignity  with  which  he  walked ;  the  blue  ribbon  and  star-and- 
garter  with  which  he  was  decorated ;  the  small,  three-cornered, 
silk  eourt-hat,  which  he  wore  while  all  around  liim  were  un- 
covered ;  the  numerous  suite,  as  well  of  gentlemen  as  of  guards, 
which  marshalled  him  along ;  the  obsequious  attention  of  a  short, 
stout  person  who,  by  his  flourishing  manner,  seemed  to  be  a 
player; — all  these  particulars  indicated  that  the  amiable  Frede- 
rick, Prince  of  Wales,  was  visiting  Bartholomew  Fair  by  torch- 
light, and  that  manager  Rich  was  introducing  his  ix)yal  guest  to 


CAKOLINE  WILHELMINA  DOROTHEA.       389 

author  .T''""''  "^  '''  P^''^-  "^"^"^^  ^^^^^"S^'"  -^^^  the 
author,     this  circumstance  may  appear  to  the  present  generation, 

yet  It  IS  nevertheless  strictly  true;  for  about  1740,  when  the 
revels  of  bmithfield  were  extended  to  three  weeks  and  a  month, 
It  was  not  considered  derogatory  to  persons  of  the  first  rank  and 
fashion  to  partake  in  the  broad  humor  and  theatrical  entertain- 
menu  of  the  place." 

In  the  following  year  the  divisions  between  tlie  kin-  and  the 
prince  made  party-spirit  run  high,  and  he  who  followed  the  sire 
vei7  unceremoniously  denounced  the  son.     To  such  a  one  there 
wa^  a  court  at  St.  James's,  but  none  at  Carl.on  House.     Walnole 
tells  a  story  which  illustrates  at  once  this  feeling,  and  the  sort  of 
w,t  possessed  by  the  courtiers  of  the  day.     «  Somebody  that  be- 
longed  to  the  Prince  of  Wales   said  they  were  going  to  court 
It  was  objected,  that  they  ought  to  say  'going  to  Carlton  House;' 
that  the  only  court  is  where  the  king  resides.     Lady  Pomfret, 
with  her  paltry  air  of  learning  and  absurdity,  said,  'Oh,  Lord'  is 
there  no  co^rt  in  England  but  the  king's.'  sure,  there  are  many 
morej    There  is  the  Court  of  Chancery,  the  Court  of  Exchequer, 
the  Court  of  King's  Bench,  &c.'     Don't  vou  love  her?     Lord 
Lmcoln  does  her  daughter."     Lord  Lincoln,  the  nephew  of  the 
Duke  of  >ewcastle,  the  minister,  was  a  frequenter  of  St.  James's 
and,  says  Horace,  "not  only  his  uncle-duke,  but  even  majesty  is' 
fallen  m  love  wiih  him.     He  talked  to  (he  king  .-.t  his  levee  with- 
out bemg  spoken  to.     That  was  always  thought  high  treason,  but 
1  Uon  t  know  how  the  grufl' gentleman  liked  it."  The  gruff  gentle- 
man w.-.s  the  king,  and  the  phrase  paints  him  at  a  stroke,  like  one 
of  Cnnkshank's  lines,  by  which  not  only  is  a  figure  drawn,  but 
expression  given  to  it. 

The  greatest  oddities  of  the  time  were  not  to  be  found  exclu- 
sively in  the  court  circle.  The  mad  Duchess  of  Buckingham,  who 
claimed  to  have  a  good  right  to  the  privileges  of  the  park,  as 
Oeorge  L  himself,  was  still  alive,  and  of  note,  during  ,,art  of  the 
reign  of  George  H.  Her  pride  rendered  her  mad.  or  rather  such 
pride  as  hers  was,  in  itself,  madness.  Proud  of  being  even  an 
lUegitmiate  daughter  of  James  II.  forgetting  that  such  pride  was 
only  iierpetuating  the  memory  of  the  infamy  of  her  mother,  Lady 


U 


890 


LIVES  OF  THE    QUEENS   OF   ENGLAND. 


Dorchester,  she  looked  upon  George  and  Caroline  with  contempt, 
and  upon  herself  as  the  true  head  of  the  Jacobite  party  in  England. 
On  one  occasion  she  even  went  to  the  Opera  e7i  princesse,  in  robes, 
red  velvet,  and  ermine.  When  her  son,  the  second  Dulve  of  Buck- 
ingham, died,  she  requested  the  old  Duchess  of  Marlborough  to  lend 
her  the  stately  hearse  on  which  the  body  of  the  Warrior-Duke  had 
been  carried  to  the  grave.  The  request  was  tartly,  but  naturally, 
declined  by  the  indignant  Sarah;  whereupon  the  daughter  of  James 
declai-ed  she  could  get  as  good  a  hearse  for  twenty  pounds.  If  the 
mad  duchess  could  not  establish  a  court,  she  at  lea-t  maintained  a 
sort  of  royal  state,  and  was  especially  royal  and  stately  in  her 
manners.  "I  must  tell  you  a  story  of  her,"  says  Walpole. 
**  Last  week  she  sent  for  Cori,  to  pay  him  for  her  opera-ticket.  He 
was  not  at  home,  but  went  in  an  hour  afterwards.  She  said,  *  Did 
he  treat  her  like  a  tradeswoman  ?  She  would  teacli  him  to  respect 
women  of  her  birth,  and  bade  him  come  next  moniing  at  nine.*  lie 
came,  and  she  made  him  wait  till  eight  at  night,  only  sending  him 
an  omelet  and  a  bottle  of  wine.  *  As  it  was  Friday,  and  he  a  Ca- 
tholic, she  supposed  he  did  not  eat  meat.'  At  length  she  received 
him  in  all  the  form  of  a  princess  giving  audience  to  an  ambassador. 
*Now,'  she  said,  *she  had  punished  him.'  "  After  all,  if  her  con- 
duct wore  an  insane  complexion,  it  was  neither  so  senseless  nor  so 
dishonest  as  that  of  Lord  Brooke,  a  wavering  courtier  of  the  day, 
who,  in  the  House  of  Peers,  voted  one  day  on  one  side,  the  second 
on  the  opposite,  and  the  third  not  at  all ;  thus  endeavoring  to  please 
king,  prince,  and  himself,  and  not  succeeding  with  either  party. 

The  prince's  party,  however,  combined  with  other  opponents, 
effected  the  overthrow  of  Caroline's  favorite  minister,  Walpole,  in 
1742.  The  succeeding  Cabinet,  at  the  head  of  which  was  Lord 
Wilmington,  did  not  very  materially  differ  in  principles  and  mea- 
•ures  from  that  of  their  predecessors.  In  the  same  year  died 
Caroline's  other  favorite.  Lady  Sundon,  mistress  of  the  robes. 

*•  Lord  Sundon  is  in  great  grief,"  says  Walpole.  *•  I  am  sur- 
prised, for  she  has  had  fits  of  madness  ever  since  her  ambition  met 
such  a  check  by  the  death  of  the  queen.  She  had  great  power 
with  her,  though  the  queen  affected  to  despise  her;  but  had  un- 
luckily told  her,  or  fallen  into  her  wwer  by,  some  secret.     I  was 


CAKOLINE  WILHELMINA  DOROTHEA.       391 

saymg  to  Lady  Pomfret,  *  To  be  sure,  she  is  dead  very  rich.'    She 
replied  with  some  warmth,  '  She  never  took  money.'     When  I 
came  home  I  mentioned  this  to  Sir  Robert.     *  No,'  said  he    *  but 
she  took  jewels.     Lord  Pomfret's  place  of  master  of  the  hoVse  to 
the  queen  was  bought  of  her  for  a  pair  of  diamond  ear-rin-s    of 
fourteen  hundred  pounds  value.'     One  day  that  she  wore  them  at 
a  visit  at  old  Marlbro's,  as  soon  as  she  was  gone,  the  duchess  said 
to  Lady  Mary  AVortley,  ^  How  can  that  woman  have  the  impu- 
dence to  go  about  in  that  bribe  ?'  *  Madam,'  said  Lady  Mary,  ^  how 
would  you  have  people  know  where  wine  is  to  be  sold,  unless  there 
is  a  sign  hung  out  ?'      Sir  Robert  told  me  that  in  the  enthusiasm 
of  her  vanity,  Lady   Sundon  had  proposed  to  him  to  unite  and 
govern  the  kingdom  together;  he   bowed,  begged  her  patrona-e, 
but,  he  said,  he  thought  nobody  fit  to  govern  the  kingdom  but  the 
kmg  and  queen."     That  king,  unsustained  now  by  his  consort,  ap- 
pears to  have  become  anxious  to  be  reconciled  with  his  son  the 
Prince  of  Wales,  at  this  time,  when  reports  of  a  Stuart  rebellion 
began  to  be  rife,  and  when  theatrical  audiences  applied  passages  in 
plays,  in  a  favorable  sense,  to  the  i)rince.     The  reconciliation  was 
effected ;  but   it    was    clumsily    contrived,   and    was    coldly   and 
awkwardly  concluded.     An  agent  from  the  king  induced  the  prmce 
to  open  the  way  by  writing  to  his  father.     This  was  a  step  which 
the  prince  was  reluctant   to  take,  and  which   he  only  took  at  la.st 
with  the  worst  possible  grace.     Tlie  letter  reached  the  king  late  at 
night,  and  on  reading  it  he  appointed  the  following  day  for°the  re- 
ception of  Frederick,  who,  with  five  gentlemen  of  his  court,  repaired 
to  St.  James's,  where  he  was  received  by  '^  the  gruff  gentleman  "  in 
the  drawing-room.     The  yielding  sire  simply  a^ked  him,   "  How 
does  the  princess  do  ?     I  hope  she  is  well."     The  dutiful  son  an- 
swered the  query,  kissed  the  paternal  hand,  and  respectfully,  as  far 
as  outward  demonstration  could  evidence  it,  took  his  leave.     He 
did  not  depart,  however,  until  he  had  distinguished  those  courtiers 
present  whom  he  held  to  be  his  friends,  by  speaking  to  them ;  the 
rest  he  passed  coldly  by.     As  the  reconciliation  was  accounted  of 
as  an  accomplished  flict,  and  as  the  king  had  condescended  to  speak 
a  word  or  two  to  some  of  the  most  intimate  friends  of  his  son;  and 
finally,  as  the  entire  royal  family  went  together  to  the  Duchess  of 


392 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAl^. 


Norfolk's,  where  "the  streets  were  ilkimlnated  and  bonfired ;"  there 
was  a  great  passing  to  and  fro  of  courtiers,  of  either  faction,  be- 
tween St.  James's  and  Carhon  House.  Seeker,  who  went  to  the 
latter  residence  with  Benton,  Bishop  of  Gloucester,  to  pay  his 
respects,  says  that  the  prince  and  princess  were  civil  to  both  of 
them. 

The  reconciliation  was  worth  an  additional  fifty  thousand  pounds 
a  year  to  the  i)rince,  so  that  obedience  to  a  father  could  hardly  be 
more  munificently  rewarded.  «  He  will  have  money  now,"  says 
Walpole,  "  to  tune  up  Glover,  and  Thomson,  and  Dodsley again:— 

Et  spes  ct  ratio  studiorum  in  Caesare  tantum." 

There  was  much  outward  show  of  gladness  at  this  court,  pageants 
and  "reviews  to  gladden  the  heart  of  David  and  triumphs  of  Ab- 
salom," as  Walpole  profanely  styles  his  majesty  and  the  heir- 
apparent.  The  latter,  with  the  princess,  went  "  in  great  parade 
through  the  city  and  the  dust  to  dine  at  Greenwich."  They  took 
water  at  the  Tower,  and  trumpeting  away  to  Grace  Tosiers— 

Like  Cimon,  trampled  over  land  and  wave. 

In  another  direction  there  were  some  lively  proceedings,  which 
would  have  amused  Caroline  herself  Tranquil  and  dulfas  Ken- 
sington Palace  looks,  its  apartments  were  occasionally  the  scene  of 
more  rude  than  royal  fracas.  Thus  we  are  told  of  one  of  the 
daughters  of  the  king  pulling  a  chair  from  under  the  Countess 
Deloraine,  just  as  that  not  too  exemplary  lady  was  about  to  sit 
down  to  cards.  His  majesty  laughed  at  the  ladv's  tumble,  at  which 
she  was  so  doubly  pained,  that  watching  for  revenge  and  opportu- 
nity, she  contrived  to  give  the  sovereign  just  such  another  fall. 
The  sacred  person  of  the  king  was  considerably  bruised,  and  the 
tnck  procured  nothing  more  for  the  countess  than  exclusion  from 
court,  where  her  place  of  favor  was  exclusively  occupied  by 
Madame  Walmoden,  Countess  of  Yarmouth,  who  had  been  brought 
over  to  England  immediately  after  the  death  of  Caroline. 

We  often  hear  of  tlie  wits  of  one  era  becoming  the  butts  of  the 
next,  and  without  wit  enough  left  to  escape  the  shafts  let  fly  at 
them.     Walpole  thus  describes  a  drawing-room  held  at  St.  James'g 


I 


CAROLINE   WILnELMINA  DOROTHEA.  893 

to  which  some  courtiers  resorted  in  the  dresses  they  had  worn  un- 
der Queen  Anne.     "  There  were  so  many  uew  faces,"  says  Horace 
"that  I  scarce   knew  where  I  was  ;  I  should   have  taken  it  for 
Carlton   House,  or  my  Lady  Mayoress's   visiting  day,  only  the 
people  did  not  seem  enough  at  home,  but  rather,  as  admitted,  to 
see  the  kmg  dine  in  public.     It  is  quite  ridiculous  to  see  the  num- 
ber of  old   ladies,  who,  from  having  been  wives  of  patriots,  have 
not  been  dressed  these  twenty  years ;  out  they  come  with  aJl  the 
accoutrements  that  were  in  use  in  Queen  Anne's  days.     Then  the 
joy  and  awkward  jollity  of  them  is  inexpressible ;  they  titter,  and 
wherever  you  meet  them,  they  are  always  going  to  court,  and  look- 
ing at  their  watches  an  hour  before  the  tim<?.     I  met  several  at  the 
birth-day,  and  they  were  dressed  in  all  the  colors  of  the  rainbow  ; 
they  seem  to  have  said  to  themselves  twenty  years  ago :  *  Well '  if 
I  ever  do  go  to  court  again,  I   will  have  a  pink  and  silver,  or  a 
blue  and  silver,'  and  they  kept  their  resolutions." 

The  English  jx-ople  had  now  been  long  lookinjr  towards  that 
great  battle-field  of  Europe,  Flanders,  mingling  memories  of  past 
triumphs  with  hopes  of  future  victories.  George  H.  went  heartily 
into  the  cause  of  Maria  Theresa,  when  the  French  sought  to 
deprive  her  of  her  imperial  inheritance.  In  the  campaign  which 
ensued  was  fought  that  battle  of  Dettingen  which  Lord°Stair  so 
nearly  lost,  where  George  behaved  so  bravely,  mounted  or  a-foot, 
and  where  the  Scots  Greys  enacted  their  bloody  and  triumphant 
duel  with  the  gens-d'annes  of  France. 

Meanwhile,  Frederick  was  unemployed.  When  the  king  and 
the  Duke  of  Cumberiand  proceeded  to  the  army  in  Flanders,  a 
regency  was  formed,  of  which  Walpole  says,  "I  think  the  prince 
might  have  been  of  it  when  Lord  Gower  is.  I  don't  think  the 
latter  more  Jacobite  than  his  royal  highness." 

When  the  king  and  the  duke  returned  from  their  triumphs  on 
the  continent,  the  former  younger  for  his  achievements,  the  latter 
older  by  the  gout  and  an  accompanying  limp,  London  gave  them 
a  reception  worthy  of  the  most  renowned  of  heroes.  In  proportion 
as  the  king  saw  himself  popular  with  the  citizens,  did  he  cool 
towards  the  Prince  of  Wales.  The  latter,  with  his  two  sisters, 
stood  on  the  stairs  of  St.  James's  Palace  to  receive  the  chief  hero ; 

17* 


394 


LIVES   OF   THE   QUEENS   OF   ENGLAND. 


but  though  the  princess  was  only  confined  the  day  before,  and 
Prince  George  lay  ill  of  the  small-pox,  the  king  passed  by  his 
son  without  otFering  him  a  word  or  otherwise  noticing  him.  This 
rendered  the  king  unpopular,  without  turning  the  popular  affection 
towards  the  eldest  son  of  Caroline.  Nor  was  that  son  deserving 
of  such  affection.  Ilis  heart  had  few  sympathies  for  England,  nor 
was  he  elated  by  her  victories  or  made  sad  by  her  defeats.  On 
the  contrary,  in  1745,  when  the  news  arrived  in  England  of  the 
"  tristis  gloria,"  the  illustrious  disaster  at  Fontenoy,  which  made 
so  many  hearts  in  England  desolate,  Frederick  went  to  the 
theatre  in  the  evening,  and  two  days  after  he  wrote  a  French 
ballad,  "  Bacchic,  Anacreontic,  and  Erotic,"  addressed  to  those 
ladies  with  whom  he  was  going  to  act  in  Congreve's  ma-^que  of 
**  The  Judgment  of  Paris."  It  was  full  of  praise  of  late  and  deep 
drinking,  of  intercourse  with  the  fair,  of  stoical  contempt  for  mis- 
fortune, of  expressed  indifference  whether  ILurope  had  one  or 
many  tyrants,  and  of  a  pococurantism  for  all  things  and  forms 
except  his  chere  Sylvie,  by  whom  he  was  good-naturedly  supposed 
to  mean  his  wife.  But  this  solitary  civility  cannot  induce  us  to 
change  our  self-gratulation  at  the  fact  that  a  man  with  such  a 
heart  was  not  permitted  to  ascend  the  throne  of  Great  Britain. 
In  the  year  after  he  wrote  the  ballad  alluded  to,  he  created  a  new 
opposition  against  the  crown,  by  the  counsels  of  Lord  Bath,  "  who 
got  him  from  Lord  Granville:  the  latter  and  his  faction  acted 
with  tlie  court."  Of  the  princess,  AValpole  says,  '•  I  firmly  believe, 
by  all  her  quiet  sense,  she  will  turn  out  a  Caroline." 

The  princess  had  a  rather  precocious  daughter  in  the  ''  Lady 
Augusta."  In  this  year,  1743^  at  a  reception  at  Leicester  House, 
the  children  of  the  Prince  and  Princess  of  Wales  were  in  the 
circle.  The  httle  Lady  Augusta,  future  mother  of  a  Queen  of 
En<Tland,  whose  life  we  shall  have  to  narrate,  exhibited  herself  in 
a  light  that  lends  but  a  sad  aspect  to  the  royal  education  imparted 
in  those  times.  The  little  princess  heard  some  one  call  Sir 
Kobert  Reed  bv  his  knigrhtlv  title  and  his  christian  name.  She  at 
once  concluded  that  he  was  Sir  Robert  Walpole  (then,  indeed. 
Lord  Orford),  and  she  **  went  staring  up  to  him,  and  said,  '  Pray, 
where  is  your  bluo  string  ? — and,  pi*ay,  what  has  become  of  your 


CAROLINE  WILHELMINA    LOROTREA. 


395 


fat  belly  ? '  "  It  is  a  pity  that  a  child  quick  enough  to  take 
popular  impressions  of  caricatured  statesmen,  had  not  had  her 
faculties  employed  to  better  purpose.  She  never  was  much  wiser, 
and  poor  Caroline  of  Brunswick  was  not  unlike  her  mother. 

While  precocious  young  ladies  were  growing  up,  celebrated  old 
ones  were  passing  away.  In  this  year  died  that  favorite  of  George 
I.  who  more  than  any  other  woman  had  enjoyed  in  his  household 
and  heart  the  place  which  should  have  belonged  to  his  wife,  Sophia 
Dorothea.     This  Mademoiselle  von  Schulemberg,  of  the  days  of 
the  Electorate,  died  Duchess  of  Kendal  by  f^ivor  of  the  ^ing  of 
England,  and  Princess  of  Eberstein  by  favor  of  the  Emperor  of 
Germany.     So  had  earthly  potentates  delighted  to  honor  earthly 
infamy.     She  died  at  the  age  of  eighty-five,  immensely  rich.    Her 
wealth  was  inherited  by  her  so-called  ''  niece,"  Lady  Walsingham, 
who  married  Lord  Chesterfield.     ^^  But  I  believe,"  says  Widpole, 
"  that  he  will  get  nothing  by  the  duchess's  death— but  his  wife. 
She  lived  in  the  house  with  the  duchess,  where  he  had  played 
away  all  his  credit." 

George  loved  to  hear  his  Dettingen  glories  eulogized  in  annual 
odes  sung  before  him.  But  brave  as  he  was,  lie  had  not  much 
cause  for  boasting.  The  Dettingen  laurels  were  changed  into 
cypress  at  Fontenoy  by  the  Duke  of  Cumberland  in  1744,  whose 
suppression  of  the  Scottish  rebellion  in  1745  gained  for  him  more 
credit  than  he  desened.  The  treaty  of  Aix-la-Capelle,  by  which 
our  continental  war  was  concluded  in  1748,  gave  peace  to  Eng- 
land, but  little  or  no  glorj-. 

The  intervening  years  were  years  of  interest  to  some  of  the 
children  of  Caroline.  Thus,  in  June,  174G,  the  Prince  of  Hesse 
came  over  to  England  to  marry  the  second  daughter  of  Caroline, 
the  Princess  Mary.  He  was  royally  entertained,  but  on  one 
occasion  he  met  whh  an  accident  which  Walpole  calls  "  a  most 
ridiculous  tumble  t'other  night  at  the  opera.  They  had  not  pegged 
up  his  box  tight  after  the  ridotto,  and  down  he  came  on  all  fours. 
George  Selwyn  says  he  carried  it  off  with  an  unembarrassed 
countenance." 

In  a  year  Mary  was  glad  to  escape  from  the  brutality  of  her 
husband,  and  repair  to  England,  under  pretext  of  being  obliged 


396 


LIVES   OF  THE   QUEENS   OF   ENGLAND. 


to  drink  the  Bath  waters.  She  was  an  especial  favorite  with  her 
brother,  the  Duke  of  Cumberland,  and  with  the  Princess  Caroline. 
The  result  of  this  marriage  gave  little  trouble  to  the  king.  lie 
w^as  much  more  annoyed  when  the  Prince  of  Wales  formerly 
declared  a  new  opposition  (in  1747),  which  was  never  to  subside 
till  he  was  on  the  throne.  '*  He  began  it  pretty  handsomely,  the 
other  day,"  says  Walpole,  '•  with  14:3  to  184,  which  has  frightened 
the  ministry  like  a  bomb.  This  new  party  wants  nothing  but 
heads ;  though  not  having  any,"  says  Horace,  wittily,  "  to  be  sure 
the  struggle  is  fairer."  It  was  led  by  Lord  Baltimore,  a  man 
with  "  a  good  deal  of  jumbled  knowledge."  The  spirit  of  the 
father  certainly  dwelt  in  some  of  his  children.  The  king,  we  are 
told,  sent  Steinberg,  on  one  occasion,  to  examine  the  prince's 
children  in  their  learning.  The  boy  acquitted  himself  well  in  his 
Latin  grammar,  but  Steinberg  told  him  it  would  please  his 
majesty  and  profit  the  prince,  if  the  latter  would  attend  more  to 
attaining  proficiency  in  the  German  language.  "  German,  Ger- 
man I "  said  the  boy,  "  any  dull  child  can  learn  that  I "  The  prince, 
as  he  said  it,  '"squinted"  at  the  baron, and  the  baron  was  doubtless 
but  little  flattered  by  the  remark,  or  the  look,  of  the  boy.  The 
king  was  probably  as  surprised,  and  as  little  pleased  to  hear  the 
remark,  as  he  was  a  few  months  later  to  discover  that  the  Prince 
of  Wales  and  the  Jacobite  party  had  united  in  a  combined  parlia- 
mentary opposition  against  the  government.  However,  Prince 
Edward's  remark  and  the  Prince  of  Wales's  o[)position  did  not 
prevent  the  king  from  conferring  the  Order  of  the  Garter  on  the 
little  Prince  George,  in  1740.  The  youthful  knight,  afterwards 
Kins:  of  England,  was  carried  in  his  father's  arms  to  the  door  of 
the  king's  closet.  There  tlie  Duke  of  Dorset  received  liim,  and 
carried  him  to  the  king.  The  boy  then  commenced  a  speech, 
which  had  been  taught  him  by  his  tutor,  Ayscough,  Dean  of 
Bristol.  His  father  no  sooner  heard  the  oration  commenced,  than 
he  interrupted  its  progress,  by  a  vehement  •'  No,  no ! "  The  boy, 
embarrassed,  stopped  short,  then  after  a  moment  of  hesitation, 
recommenced  his  complimentary  harangue  ;  but  with  the  opening 
words,  again  came  the  prohibitory  '•  No,  no ' "  from  the  prince, 
and  thus  was  the  eloquence  of  the  young  chevalier  rudely  silenced. 


CAROLINE   WILHEI.MINA    DOROTOEA.  §97 

But  it  was  not  only  the  peace  of  the  king,  his  very  palaces  were 
put  m  peril  at  this  time.     The  installation  of  Lady  Yarmouth  at 
Kensmgton,  after  the  fracas  occasioned  by  Lat'y  Deloraine  had 
nearly  resulted  in  the  destruction  of  the  palace.     Lady  Yarmouth 
resided  in  the  room  which  had  been  occupied  by  Lady  Suffolk 
who  disregarded  damp  and  eared  nothing  for  the  crop  of  fun^i 
mised  by  it  in  her  room.     Not  so  Lady  Yarmouth,  at  least  after 
she  had  contracted  an  ague*   She  then  kept  up  such  a  fire  that  the 
woodwork  caught,  and  destruction  to  the  edifice  was  near  upon 
toUowmg.     There  were  vacant  chambers  enough,  and  sufficiently 
eomlortable,  but  the  king  would  not  allow  them  to  be  inhabited 
even  by  his  favorite.     "  The  king  hoards  all  he  can,"  writes  AVal- 
pole,  "  and  has  locked  up  half  the  palace  since  the  queen's  death  • 
so  he  does  at  St.  James's,  and  I  believe  would  put  the  rooms  out 
at  interest  if  lie  could  get  a  closet  a  year  for  them." 

The  division  which  had  again  sprung  up  between  sire  and  son 
daily  widened  until  death  relieved  the  former  of  his  permanent 
source  of  vexation.     This  event  took  place  in  1751.     Some  few 
years  previous  to  that  perio<l,  the  Prince  of  AVales,  when  playin- 
at  tenms  or  cricket,  at  Cliefden,  received  a  blow  from  a  baU,  which 
gave   him  some  jmin,  but  of  which   he   thought  little.     It  was 
neglected,  and  one  result  of  such  neglect  was  a  permanent  weak- 
ness of  the  lungs.     In  the  early  part  of  this  year,  he  had  suffered 
from  pleurisy,  but  had  recovered-at  least,  partially  recovered 
A  previous  fall   from  his   horse  had  rendered  him  more  than' 
usually  delicate.     Early  in  March  he  had  been  in  attenimce  at 
the  House  of  Lords,  on  occasion  of  the  king,  his  father,  -ivin"  his 
royal  sanction  to  some  bills.     This   done,  the  prince   returned 
much   heated,  in  a  cluiir,  with   the  windows   down,  to  Carlton 
House      He  changed  his  dress,  put  on  light,  unaired  clothing,  and 
as  if  that  had  not  been  perilous  enough,  he  had  the  madness,  after 
hurrying  to  Kew,  and  walking  about  the  gardens  there  in  very 
inclement  weather,  to  lie  down  for  three  hours  after  his  return  to 
Carlton  House,  upon  a  couch  in  a  very  cold  room  that  opened 
upon  the  gardens.     Lord  Egmont  suggested  the  danger  of  such  a 
course ;  the  prince  laughed  at  the  thought.     He  was  as  obstinate 
as  his  father,  to  wliom  Sir  Robert  AValix.le  once  observed,  on 


398 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


finding  him  equally  intractable  during  a  fit  of  illness,  "  Sir,  do  you 
know  what  your  father  died  of?  Of  ihinkingr  he  could  not  die." 
The  prince,  in  like  manner,  ridiculed  good  counsel,  and  before  the 
next  morning  his  life  was  in  danger.  He  rallied,  and  during  one 
of  his  hours  of  least  suffering  he  sent  for  his  eldest  son,  and  em- 
bracing him  with  unaffected  tenderness,  remarked, '"  Come,  George, 
let  us  be  good  friends  while  we  are  permitted  to  be  so."  Three 
physicians,  with  Wilmot  and  HawlAis,  the  surgeons,  were  in 
constant  attendance  upon  him,  and,  curiously  enough,  their  united 
wisdom  pronounced  that  the  prince  was  out  of  danger,  only  the  day 
before  he  died.  Then  came  a  relapse,  an  eruption  of  the  skin,  a 
marked  difficulty  of  breathing,  and  an  increase  of  cough.  Still  he 
was  not  considered  in  danger.  Some  members  of  his  family  were 
at  cards  in  the  adjacent  room,  and  Desnoyers,  the  celebrated 
dancing-master,  who,  like  St.  Leon,  was  as  good  a  violinist  as  he 
was  a  dancer,  was  playing  the  violin  at  the  prince's  bedside,  when 
the  latter  was  seized  witli  a  violent  fit  of  coughing.  When  this 
had  ceased,  AVilmot  expressed  a  hope  that  his  royal  patient  would 
be  better,  and  would  pa<s  a  quiet  night.  Hawkins  detected 
symptoms  which  he  thought  of  great  gravity.  The  cough  returned 
with  increased  violence,  and  Frederick,  placing  his  hand  upon  his 
stomach,  murmured  feebly:  *^  Je  sens  la  mortT  ("I  feel  death!") 
Desnoyers  held  him  up,  and  feeling  him  shiver,  exclaimed :  '"'  The 
prince  is  going  I"  At  that  moment,  the  Princess  of  Wales  was  at 
the  foot  of  the  bed ;  she  caught  up  a  candle,  rushed  to  the  head 
of  the  bed,  and,  bending  down  over  her  husband's  face,  she  saw 
that  he  was  dead. 

So  ended  the  wayward  life  of  the  eldest  son  of  Caroline  ;  so 
terminated  the  married  life  of  him  which  began  so  gaily  when  he 
was  gliding  about  the  crowd  in  his  nuptial  chamber,  in  a  gown 
and  night-cap  of  silver  tissue.  The  bursting  of  an  imj>ostluime 
between  the  pericardium  and  diaphragm,  the  matter  of  wljich  fell 
upon  the  lungs,  suddenly  killed  him  whom  the  heralds  called 
*•  high  and  mighty  prince,"  and  the  heir  to  a  throne  lay  dead  in 
the  arms  of  a  French  fiddler.     Les  extremes  se  touchent! — though 

c 

Desnoyers,  be  it  said,  was  quite  as  honest  a  man  as  his  master. 
Intelligence  of  the  death  of  his  son  was  immediately  conveyed  to 


CAROLINE  WILHELMINA  DOROTHEA.       399 

George  the  Second,  by  Lord  Xorth.  The  king  was  at  KensinMon 
and  when  the  messenger  stood  at  his  side  and  communicated^in  a 
whisper  the  doleful  news,  his  maje.ty  was  looking  over  a  card- 
table,  at  which  the  players  were  the  Princess  Amelia,  the  Duchess 
of  Dorset,  the  Duke  of  Grafton,  and  the  Countess  of  Yarmouth 
He  turned  to  the  messenger,  and  merely  remarked  in  a  low  voice  • 
"Dead,,s  he?  Why,  they  told  me  he  was  better;"  and  then* 
going  round  to  his  mistress,  the  Countess  of  Yarmouth,  he  very 
calmly  observed  to  her :  «  Countess,  Fred  is  gone !"  And  that 
was  all  the  sorrow  expressed  by  a  father  at  the  loss  of  a  first-born 
boy  who  had  outlived  his  father's  love.  The  king,  however,  sent 
kind  messages  to  the  widow,  who  exhibited  on  the  occasion  much 
courage  and  sense. 

As  the  prince  died  without  priestly  aid,  so  was  his  funeral  un- 
attended  by  a  single  bishop  to  do  him  honor  or  pay  him  respect. 
^A  ith  the  exception  of  Frederick's  own  household  and  the  lords 
appointed  to  hold  the  pall,  -  there  was  not  present  one  En-lish 
lord,  not  one  bishop,  and  only  one  Lish  peer  (Limerick;,  two  Ions 
of  dukes,  one  baron's  son,  and  two  privy  councillors."  It  was  not 
that  want  of  respect  was  intentional,  but  that  no  due  notice  was 
issued  from  any  office  as  to  the  arrangements  of  the  funeral  The 
body  was  carried  from  the  House  of  Lords  to  Westminster  Abbey 
but  without  a  canopy,  and  the  funeral  service  was  performed  un-' 
dignified  by  either  anthem  or  organ. 

But  the  prince's  friend,  Bubb  Dodington,  poured  out  a  sufficient 
quantity  of  expressed  grief  to  ^Qvye  the  entire  nation,  and  make 
up  for  all  lack  of  ceremony  or  of  sorrow  elsewhere.  In  a  letter  to 
Mann,  he  swore  that  the  prince  was  the  delight,  ornament,  and 
expectation  of  the  world.  In  losin-  him,  the  wretched  had  lost 
their  refuge,  balm,  and  shelter.  Art,  science,  and  grace  had  to 
deplore  the  loss  of  a  patron,  and,  in  that  loss,  a  remedy  for  the  iUs 
of  society  had  peri>hed  also!  "Bubb  de  Tristibus"  goes  on  to 
.-ay  that  he  had  lost  more  than  any  other  man  by  the  death  of  the 
pnnce,  seeing  that  his  highness  had  condescended  to  stoop  to  him 
and  be  his  own  familiar  friend.  Bubb  protested  that  if  he  ever 
allowed  the  wounds  of  his  grief  to  heal  he  should  be  forever 
mfamous,  and  finaUy  running  a  muck  with  his  figures  of  speech, 


400 


LIVES   OF  THE   QUEEXS  OF  ENGLAND. 


he  declares : — ^^  I  should  be  unworthy  of  all  consolation  if  I  was 
not  inconsolable."  This  is  the  spirit  of  a  partisan,  but,  on  the 
other  side,  the  spirit  of  party  was  never  exhibited  in  a  more 
malignantly  petty  aspect  than  on  the  occasion  of  the  death  of  the 
prince.  Tlie  gentlemen  of  his  bedchamber  were  ordered  to  be  in 
attendance  near  the  body,  from  ten  in  the  morning  till  the  con- 
clusion of  the  funeral.  The  goveniment,  however,  would  order 
them  no  refreshment,  and  the  board  of  green  cloth  would  provide 
them  with  none,  without  such  order.  Even  though  princes  die,  U 
faut  que  tout  le  monde  vive,  and,  accordingly,  these  poor  gentlemen 
sent  to  a  neighboring  tavern,  and  gave  orders  for  a  cold  dinner 
to  be  furnished  them.  The  authorities  were  too  tardily  ashamed 
of  thus  insulting  faithful  servants  of  rank  and  distinction,  and  com- 
manded the  necessary  refreshments  to  be  provided.  Tiiey  were 
accepted,  but  the  tavern  dinner  was  paid  for  and  given  to  the 
poor. 

The  widowed  Augusta,  who  had  througliout  her  married  life 
exhibited  much  mental  superiority,  with  great  kindness  of  disposi- 
tion, and  that  under  circumstances  of  great  dilficulty,  and  some- 
times of  a  character  to  inflict  vexation  on  the  calmest  nature, 
remained  in  the  room  by  the  side  of  the  corpse  of  her  husband  for 
full  four  hours,  unwilling  to  believe  in  the  assurances  given  her 
that  he  was  really  dead.  She  was,  then,  the  mother  of  eight 
children,  expecting  to  be  shortly  the  mother  of  a  ninth,  and  she 
was  brought  reluctantly  to  acknowledge  that  their  father  was  no 
more.  It  was  six  in  the  morning  before  her  attendants  could 
persuade  her  to  retire  to  bed,  but  she  rose  again  at  eight,  and 
then,  with  less  thought  for  her  grief  than  anxiety  for  the  honor  of 
hhn  whose  death  was  the  cause  of  it,  she  proceeded  to  the  prince's 
room,  and  burned  the  whole  of  his  private  papers,  liy  this  action, 
the  world  lost  some  rare  supi)lementary  chapters  to  a  Chronique 
Seaadaleuse. 

The  prince's  party  had  been  at  the  height,  if  not  of  power,  at 
least  of  satisfaction  at  the  prospect  of  it,  in  January,  1751,  when 
the  subsidiary  treaties  with  Germany  had  rendered  the  king's  gov- 
ernment exceedingly  unpopular.  The  party  was  further  elated  by 
the  expected  secession  of  Lord  Cobham  and  several  of  his  follow- 


CAROLINE  WILUELMINA  DOROTHEA. 


401 


er.  from  the  ranks  of  the  ministry  to  those  of  the  prince  and  oppo- 
sition.    But  the  death  of  Frederick  disconcerted  all  the  measures 
ot  mtrigumg  men,  and  brought  about  a  great  change  in  the  coun- 
cils  of  the  court  as  of  the  factions  opposed  to  the  court.     «The 
death  of  our  prince,"  wrote  Whitfield,  "  has  afflicted  you.     It  has 
given  me  a  shock,  but  the  Lord  reigneth,  and  that  is  my  comfort.'^ 
Ihe  Duchess  of  Somerset,  writing  to  Dr.  Doddridge,  says  on  the 
same  subject :  "  Providence  seems  to  have  directed  the  blow  where 
w^hought  ourselves  the  most  secure ;  for  among  the  many  schemes 
of  hopes  and  fears  which  people  were  laying  down  to  themselves, 
this  was  never  mentioned  as  a  supposable  event.     The  harmony 
which  appeal^  to  subsist  between  his  majesty  and  the  Princess  of 
AVales  is  the  best  supi>ort  for  the  spirits  of  the  nation,  under  their 
present  concern  and  astonisliment.     He  died  in  the  forty-fifth  year 
of  his  age,  and  is  generally  allowed  to  have  been  a  prince  of  amia- 
ble  and  generous  disposition,  of  elegant  manners,  and  of  consider- 
able  talents." 

The  opposition  which  the  prince  had  maintained  against  the 
government  of  the  father  who  had  provoked  him  to  it,  was  not  an 
undignified  one.  Unlike  his  sire,  he  did  not  -hate  both  baintin- 
and  boetry ;"  and  painters  and  poets  were  welcome  at  his  court,  as 
were  philosophers  and  statesmen.  It  was  only  required  that  they 
should  be  adverse  to  Walpole.  Among  them  were  the  able  and 
ui^ane  wits,  Chesterfield  and  Carteret,  Pulteney  and  Sir  William 
U  yndham  ;  the  aspiring  young  men,  Pitt,  Lyttelton,  and  the  Gren- 
villes :  Swift,  Pope,  and  Thomson,  lent  their  names  and  pens  to 
the  prince's  service,  while  astute  and  fiery  Bolingbroke  aimed  to 
govern  m  the  circle  where  he  afTected  to  serve. 

All  the  reflections  made  upon  the  death  of  the  prince  were  not 
so  simple  of  quality  as  those  of  the  Duchess  of  Somerset.  Hoi-a^e 
Walpole  cites  a  preacher  at  Mayfair  Chapel,  who  "improved"  the 
occasion  after  tljis  not  very  satisfactory  or  conclusive  fashion  :  '^le 
had  no  great  parts,  but  he  had  great  virtues— indeed,  they  degen- 
erated into  vices.  He  was  very  generous ;  but  I  hear  his  generos- 
ity has  ruined  a  great  many  people ;  and  tlien,  his  condescension 
was  such  that  he  kept  very  bad  company."  Not  less  known,  and 
yet  claunmg  a  place  here,  is  the  smart  Jacobite  epitaph,  so  Httle 


402 


LIVES  or  THE  QUEENS    OF  ENGLAND. 


flattering  to  the  dead,  that  had  all  Spartan  epitaphs  been  as  little 
laudatory,  the  Epliori  would  never  have  issued  a  decree  entirely 
prohibiting  them.     It  was  to  this  effect : 

•  Here  lies  Fred, 

Who  was  alive  and  is  dead ! 

Had  it  been  his  father, 

I  had  much  rather. 

Had  it  been  his  brother, 

Still  better  than  another.  w 

Had  it  been  his  sister, 

No  one  could  have  missed  her. 

Had  it  been  the  whole  generation, 

Still  better  for  the  nation  : 

But  since  'tis  only  Fred, 
Who  was  alive  and  is  dead. 

There  is  no  more  to  be  said. 

I  have  not  mentioned  among  those  who  were  the  frequenters 
of  his  court,  the  name  of  Lady  Huntingdon.  "With  her  lord  and 
her  young  and  worthless  kinsman,  the  assassin  Lord  Ferrars,  she 
was  often  in  the  gay  and  intriguing  circle,  until  her  mind  became 
directed  in  pursuit  of  a  better  object.  Iler  withdrawal  brought 
down  upon  her  a  shower  of  ridicule,  and  the  "beast"  family  were 
as  loudly  unclean  in  their  remarks  upon  herself  and  W^hitfield  as 
on  a  recent  occasion,  when  those  nasty,  prurient  people,  affected  to 
turn  up  their  noses  with  a  shocked  sense,  as  by  something  impure, 
at  the  idea  of  Miss  Nightingale  tending  the  wounded  and  dying 
men  in  the  hospital  at  Scutari.  Frederick  had  the  good  sense  to 
appreciate  Lady  Huntingdon,  and  he  did  not  despise  her  because 
of  a  little  misdirected  enthusiasm.  On  missing  her  from  his  circle, 
he  inquired  of  the  gay,  but  subsequently  the  gotlly.  Lady  Charlotte 
Edwin,  where  Lady  Huntingdon  could  be,  that  he  no  longer  saw 
her  at  his  court.  "  Oh,  I  dare  say,"  exclaimed  the  unconcerned 
Lady  Charlotte — "  I  dare  say  she  is  praying  with  her  beggars." 
Frederick  had  the  good  sense  and  the  courage  to  turn  sharply 
round  upon  her,  and  say :  "  Lady  Charlotte,  when  I  am  dying  I 
think  I  shall  be  happy  to  seize  the  skirt  of  Lady  Huntingdon's 
mantle  to  lift  me  up  to  Heaven."     This  phrase  was  not  forgotten 


CAROLINE   WILHELMINA    DOROTHEA. 


403 


When  the  adapter  of  Gibber's  "Non-juror"  turned  that  play  into 
the  ^Hypocrite,"  and  introducing  the  fanatic  Mawworm,  put  into 
his  mouth  a  sentiment  uttered  for  the  sake  of  the  laugh  which  it 
never  failed  to  raise,  but  which  originated,  in  sober  sadness,  with 
1  rederick  Prince  of  Wales. 

The  truth  is  that  the  character  of  Caroline's  son  was  full  of  con- 
tradictions ;  contrarieties  would  be,  perhaps,  a  better  word.     He 
had  low  tastes,  but  he  also  possessed  those  of  a  gentleman  and  a 
pnnce.    When  the  Jiambkr  first  appeared,  he  so  enjoyed  its  stately 
wisdom,  that  he  sought  after  the  author,  in  order  to  serve  him  if 
he  needed  service.     His  method  of  "serving"  an  author  was  not 
mere   lip   compliment.     Pope,   indeed,   might   be   satisfied   with 
receiving  from  him  a  complimentary  visit  at  Twickenham.     The 
poet  there  was  on  equal  terms  with  the  prince;  and  when  the  lat- 
ter  asked  how  it  was  that  the  author  who  hurled  his  shafts  a-ainst 
kings  could  be  so  friendly  towards  the  son  of  a  king-Pope  some- 
what pertly  answered,  that  he  who  dreaded  the  lion  mi-ht  safely 
enough  fondle  the  cub.     But  Frederick  could  really  be°  princely 
to  authors ;  and  what  is  even  more,  he  could  do  a  good  action 
gracefully,  an  immense  point  when  there  is  a  good  action  to  be 
done.     Thus  to  Tindal,  he  sent  a  gold  medal  worth  forty  guineas ; 
and  to  dry  and  dusty  Glover,  for  whose  Leomdas  he  had  as  much 
respect  as  Montgomery  liad  for  the  poem  o^  Alfred,  he  sent  a  note 
tor  oOOL,  when  the  poet  was  in  difficulties.     This  handsome  gift 
too,  >yBs  sent  unasked.     The  son  of  song  was  honored  and  not 
humiliated  by  the  gift.     It  does  not  matter  whether  Lyttelton,  or 
any  one  else,  taught  him  to  be  the  patron  of  literature  and  literary 
men;  it  ,s  to  his  credit  that  he  recognized  them,  acknowledged 
their  services,  and  saw  them  with  pleasure  at  his  little  court,  often 
giving  them  precedence  over  those  whose  greatness  was  the  mere 
result  of  the  accident  of  birth.     Like  the  King  of  Prussia,  he  not 
only  protected  poets,  but  he  wooed  the  muse.     Those  shy  ladies 
however,  loved  him  none  the  better  for  being  a  benefactor  to  their 
acknowledged  children.     The  rhymes  of  Frederick  were  generally 
devoted  to  the  ecstatic  praises  of  his  wife.     The  matter  was  good, 
but  the  manner  was  execrable.     The  lady  deserved  all  that  was 
said,  but  her  virtues  merited  a  more  gracefully  skilful  eulogist. 


401 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS   OF  ENGLAND. 


The  reasoning  was  perfect,  but  the  rhymes  halted  abominably. 
But  how  could  it  be  otherwise  ?  Apollo  himself  would  not  stoop 
to  inspire  a  writer  who,  while  piling  up  poetical  compliments  above 
the  head  of  his  blameless  wife,  was  paying  adoration,  at  all  events 
not  less  sincere,  to  most  worthless  ladies  of  the  court.  The  ap- 
parently exemplary  father,  within  the  circle  of  home,  where  pre- 
sided a  beautiful  mother,  over  a  bright  young  family,  was  a 
wretched  libertine  outside  of  that  circle.  His  sin  was  great,  and 
his  taste  of  the  vilest.  His  "favorites"  had  nothing  of  youth, 
beauty,  or  intellect  to  distinguish  them,  or  to  serve  for  the  j)oor 
apology  of  infidelity.  Lady  Archibald  Hamilton  was  plain  and  in 
years  when  she  enjoyed  her  bad  pre-eminence.  Miss  Vane  was 
impudent  and  a  maid  of  honor,  by  office;  nothing  else:  while 
Lady  Middlesex  was  "  short  and  djuk,  like  a  cold  winter's  night," 
and  as  yellow  as  a  November  morning.  Notwithstanding  this,  he 
played  the  father  and  husband  well,  and  in  some  respects,  sincerely 
well — if  I  may  use  such  a  term.  He  loved  to  have  his  children 
with  him,  always  appeared  most  happy  when  in  the  bosom  of  his 
family :  left  them  with  regret,  and  met  them  again  with  smiles, 
kisses,  and  tears.  He  walked  the  streets  unattended,  to  the  great 
delight  of  the  people  ;  was  the  presiding  Apollo  at  great  festivals, 
conferred  the  prizes  at  rowings  and  racings,  and  talked  familiarly 
with  Thames  fishermen  on  the  mysteries  of  their  craft.  He  would 
enter  the  cottages  of  the  poor,  listen  with  patience  to  their  twice- 
told  tales,  and  partake  with  relish  of  the  humble  fiire  presented  to 
him.  So  did  the  old  soldier  find  in  him  a  ready  listener  to  the 
story  of  his  campaigns,  and  the  sul>ject  of  his  petitions  ;  and  never 
did  the  illustriously  maimed  appeal  to  him  in  vain.  He  was  a  man 
to  be  loved  in  spite  of  all  his  vices.  He  would  have  been  adored 
had  his  vii'tues  been  more,  or  more  real.  But  his  virtue  was  too 
often  only  like  his  love  for  popular  and  parliamentary  liberty, 
rather  affected  than  real ;  and,  at  all  events,  not  to  be  relied  upon. 
When  a  deputation  of  Quakers  waited  on  him  to  solicit  him  to  sup- 
port by  himself  and  friends  a  clause  of  the  Tything  bill,  in  their 
favor,  he  replied :  "  As  I  am  a  friend  to  liberty  in  general,  and  to 
toleration  in  particular,  I  wish  you  may  meet  with  all  proper 
favor ;  but,  for  myself,  I  never  gave  my  vote  in  parliament,  and 


CAROLINE  WILHELMINA  DOROTHEA.       405 

to  influence  my  friends,  or  direct  my  servants  in  theirs,  does  not 
become  my  station.     To  leave  them  entirely  to  their  own  con- 
sciences  and  understandings,  is  a  rule  I  have  hitherto  prescribed 
to  myself,  and  purpose  through  life  to  observe."     Andrew  Pitt 
who  was  at  the  head  of  the  deputation,  replied,  "  May  it  please  the 
Pnnce  of  AVales,  I  am  greatly  affected  with  thy  excellent  notions 
of  libert;y^  and  am  more  pleased  with  the  answer  thou  hast  given 
us  than  If  thou  hadst  granted  our  request."     But  the  answer  was 
not  a  smcere  one,  and  the  parliamentary  friends  and  servants  of 
he  pnnce  were  expected  to  hold  their  consciences  at  his  direction. 
Once   Lord  Doneraile  ventured  to  disregard  this  influence ;  upon 
M   he  pnnce  observed,  "  Does  he  think  that  I  will  support  him 
unless  he  wdl  do  as  I  would  have  him  ?    Does  he  not  consider  that 
whoever  may  be  my  ministers,  I  must  be  king  ?  "     Of  such  a  man 
Walpole  s  remark  was  not  far  wide  of  truth,  when  he  said  that 
l^redenck  resembled  the  Blac-k  Prince  only  in  one  circumstance- 
m  dymg  before  his  father ! 

He  certainly  exliibited  little  of  the  chivalrous  spirit  of  the  Black 
1  rince.     In  174o,  vexed  at  not  being  promoted  to  the  command 
of  the  army  raised  to  crush  the  rebellion,  and  especially  annoyed 
hat  It  was  given  to  his  brother,  the  Duke  of  Cumberland,  who  had 
ess  vanity  and  more  courage,  he  ridiculed  all  tlie  strategic  disposi- 
ions  of  the  authorities,  and  when  Cariisle  was  being  besieged  by 
the  rebels  a  representation  in  pa.ste  of  the  citadel  was  served  up 
at  his  table,  at  dessert,  which,  at  the  head  of  the  maids  of  honor, 
lie  bombarded  with  sugar-plums. 

The  young  Prince  George,  afterwards  George  HL,  "  behaved 
excessively  well  on  his  father's  death."  The  words  are  Walpole's  • 
and  he  establishes  his  attestation  by  recording,  that  when  he  was 
informed  of  his  father's  decease,  he  turned  pale  and  laid  his  hand 
on  h.s  breast.  Upon  which  his  reverend  tutor,  Ayscough,  said, 
very  much  like  a  simpleton,  and  not  at  all  like  a  divine,  "I  am 
afraid,  sir,  you  are  not  well."  "  I  feel,"  said  the  boy,  "  something 
here  just  as  I  did  when  I  saw  the  two  workmen  fall  from  the 
scaffold  at  Kew."  It  was  not  the  speech  of  a  lK>y  of  parts,  nor  an 
epitaph  deeply  filial  in  sentiment  on  the  death  of  a  parent,  but  one 
can  see  that  the  young  prince  was  conscious  of  some  painful  grief 


406 


LIVES   OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


CAROLINE  WILHELMINA    DOROTHEA. 


though  he  hardly  knew  how  to  di-ess  his  sensations  in  equivalent 

words. 

Before  leaving  this  subject,  I  may  notice  an  incident  in  connec- 
tion with  another  son  of  Frederick,  namely,  Edward,  Duke  of 
York,  '^  a  very  plain  boy,  with  strange  loose  eyes,  but  was  much 
the  favorite.     He  is  a  sayer  of  things,"  remarks  Walpole.     Nine 
years  after  his  father's  death,  he  had  occasion  to  pay  as  warm  a 
comphment  to  Lady  Huntingdon  as  ever  had  been  paid  her  by  his 
father.     The  occasion  was  a  visit  to  the  Magdalen,  in  17 GO.     A 
large  party  accompanied  Prince  Edward  from  Northumberland 
House  to  the  evening  service.     They  were  rather  wits  than  wor- 
shippers, for  among  them  were  Horace  Walpole,  Colonel  Brudenell, 
Lord  Hertford,  and  Lords  Huntingdon  and  Dartmouth  to  keep  the 
wits  within  decent  limits.     The  ladies  were  all  gay  in  silks,  satins, 
and  rose-colored  taffeta;  there  were  the   Lady  Northumberland 
herself,  Ladies   Chesterfield,  Carlisle,   Dartmouth,  and  Hertford, 
Lady  Fanny  Shirley,  Lady  Selina  Hastings,  Lady  Gertrude  Ho- 
tham,  and  Lady  Mary  Coke.     Lord  Hertford,  at  the  head  of  the 
governors,  met  the  prince  and  his  brilliimt  suite  at  the  doors,  and 
conducted  him  to  a  sort  of  throne  in  front  of  the  altar.     The  cler- 
gyman, who  preached  an  eloquent  and  impressive  sermon  from 
Luke  xix.  20,  was,  not  many  years  after,  dragged  from  Newgate 
to  Tyburn,  and  there  ignominiously  hung.     How  witty  Walpole 
would  have  been  upon  him,  could  the  joker  have  only  seen  a  little 
way  into  futurity  !     How  sarcastic  he  would  have  been  ujion  sinners 
in  a  state  of  suspense !     As  it  was,  he,  or  some  other  of  the  com- 
pany, sneeringly  observed  that  Dr.   Dodd   had  preached  a  very 
Methodistical  sort  of  sermon.     "You  are  fastidious  indeed,"  said 
Prince  Edward  to  the  objector.     "  I  thought  it  excellent,  and  suit- 
able to  season  and  place ;  and  in  so  thinking,  I  have  the  honor  of 
being  of  the  same  opinion  as  Lady  Huntingdon  here,  and  I  rather 
fancy  that  she  is  better  versed  in  theology  than  any  of  us."     This 
was   true,   and   it   was   gracefully   said.     The  prince,  moreover, 
backed  his  opinion  by  leaving  a  fifty  pound  note  in  the  plate ;  and 
I  hope  that  when  Dr.  Dodd  saw  it,  he  did  not  break  the  tenth  com- 
mandment. 


407 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THE   LAST   TEARS    OP  A   EEIGN. 

The  last  nine  years  of  the  reign  of  the  consort  of  Caroline  were 
of  a  very  vaned  character.  The  earliest  of  his  acts  after  the  12 
of  Fredenck  was  one  of  which  Caroline  would  certainly  not  W 
approved.  In  case  of  his  demise  before  the  next  heir  to  the 
throne  shou  d  be  of  a^e  he  with  cnnc..,.  „<•  r 
widow  nf  PV„  1    •  I  consent  of  parliament,  named  the 

widow  of  I.  rederick  as  regent  of  the  kingdom.     This  appointment 
gave  great  umbrage  to  the  favorite  son  o?  Caroline,  Wil^Duk 
of  Cumberland,  and  it  was  one  to  which  Caroline  herself  would 
never  have  consented. 

But  George  now  cared  little  for  what  the  opinion  of  Caroline 
might  have  been;  and  the  remainder  of  his  days  were  spent  .,mid 
deat^i,  gaiety,  and  politics.     The  year  in  whiohVrederiek  died  w^ 
marked  by  the  decease  of  the  husband  of  Caroline's  eldest  dauH,'- 
er  of  wliose  plainness,  wooing,  and  marriage,  I  have  previously 
spoken      Ihe  Prince  of  Orange  died  on  the  Uth  of  October,  1751 
He  had  not  improved  in  beauty  since  his  marriage,  but,  increasingly 
ugly  as  he  became,  his  wife  became  al.o  increasingly  jealou^of 
him      Importunate,  however,  as  the  jealousy  was,  it  had  the  merit 
of  being  founded  on  honest  and  healthy  affection.      An  honest 
afTeelion.  at  all  events ;  for  to  call  that  affection  healthy,  on  whose 
beauty  hangs  the  troublesome  wen  of  jealousy,  is  perhaps  going 
too  far.     \Valpole  says,  "The  prince  is  dead,  killed  by  the  water! 
ofAix-la-Chapelle.     The  Pl-incess  Royal  was  established  re-ent 
some  time  ago ;  but  as  her  husband's  aiitliority  seemed  extremely 
tottering  it  is  not  likely  that  she  will  be  able  to  maintain  hers. 
Her  health  is  extremely  bad,  mid  her  temper  is  neither  ingratia- 
nng  nor  bending.     It  is  become  the  peculiarity  of  the  House  of 
Orange  to  liave  minorities." 


408 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


The  immediate  cause  of  the  prince's  death  was  an  imposthume 
in  the  head.  Although  his  heaUh  had  been  inditferent,  his  death 
was  rather  sudden  and  unexpected.  Lord  Iloldernesse  was  sent 
over  to  England  by  the  king,  Walpole  says,  "  to  learn  rather  than 
to  teach,"  but  certainly  with  letters  of  condolence  to  Caroline's 
widowed  daughter.  She  is  said  to  have  received  the  paternal 
sympathy  and  advice  in  the  most  haughty  and  insulting  manner. 
She  was  proud,  perhaps,  of  being  made  the  goiivernante  o^  her  son; 
and  she  probably  remembered  the  peremptory  rejection  by  her 
father  of  the  interested  sympathy  she  herself  had  otVered  him  on 
the  decease  of  her  mother,  to  whose  credit  she  had  hoped  to  succeed 
at  St.  James's.  It  is  certain  that,  as  has  been  stated,  no  part  of 
her  consequent  conduct  evinced  any  proof  of  either  good  sense  or 

political  wisdom. 

But  George  himself  had  little  sj-mpathy  to  spare,  and  felt  no 
impioderate  grief  for  the  death  of  either  son  or  son-in-law.  On  the 
Gth  of  November,  1751,  within  a  month  of  the  prince's  death,  and 
not  very  many  after  that  of  his  son  and  heir  to  the  throne,  George 
was  at  Drury  Lane  Theatre.  The  entertainment  played  for  his 
especial  pleasure  consisted  of  Farquhar's  Beaux  Stratagem  and 
Fielding's  Intriguing  Chambermaid.  In  the  former,  the  king  was 
exceedhigly  fond  of  the  Foig  ird  of  Yates,  and  the  Cherry  of  Miss 
]MinoFs.  In  the  latter  piece,  Mrs.  Clive  played  her  original  part 
ofLettice.R  part  in  which  she  had  then  delighted  the  town— a 
town  which  could  be  delighted  with  such  parts — for  now  seventeen 
years.  Walpole  thus  relates  an  incident  of  the  night,  lie  is 
writing  to  Sir  Horace  Mann,  from  Ariington  Street,  under  the  date 
of  November  22^  1751.  *•  A  certain  king,  that,  whatever  airs  you 
may  give  yourself,  you  are  not  at  all  like,  was  last  week  at  the 
play.  The  intriguing  chambenuaid  in  the  farce,  says  to  the  old 
gentleman,  '  You  are  villanously  old  ;  you  are  sixty-six ;  you  can't 
have  the  impudence  to  think  of  living  above  two  years.'  The  old 
"entleman  in  the  stage  box  turned  about  in  a  passion,  and  said, 
^This  is  d—d  stuff!'" 

George  was  right  in  his  criticism,  but  rather  coarse  than  king- 
like in  expressing  it.  Walpole  too,  it  may  be  noticed,  misquotes 
what  his  friend  Mrs.  Clive  said  in  her  character  of  Lettice,  and  he 


CAROLINE  WILHELMINA  DOROTHEA.       409 

misquotes  evidently  for  the  purpose  of  making  the  story  more 
pomted  agamst  the  king,  who  was  as  sensitive  upon  the  point  of 
age  as  Louis  XIV.  himself.     Lettice  does  not  say  to  oCtle 

?  Old?  n'""'"'^  'T  ''^  "^"^^  ''^''^  ^^^  '^-^  obstacles 
to  Oldcastle  marrj-mg  her  young  mistress.     «In  the  first  place 

your  great  age,  you  are  at  least  some  sixty-six.     Then  there  is,  in 

UaJu'f  ^r'  ^''"'  ''""^^'  ungenteel  air;  and  thirdly,  tLt 
horrible  face  of  yours,  which  it  is  impossible  for  any  one  to  see 
wnlK>ut  being  frightened."  She  does,  however,  add  a  p'hrase  wh  ch 
mu.t  have  sounded  harshly  on  the  ear  of  a  sensitive  and  sexagena- 
rian kmg:  though  not  more  so  than  on  that  of  any  other  auditor  of 
the  same  age.  ^^  I  think  you  could  not  have  the  conscience  to  Ih^ 
above  a  year,  or  a  year  and  a  half  at  most."  The  roval  criticism 
hen  was  correct,  however  roughly  expressed,  and  it  ;.«  becaus" 

Mn'T       '  ^'^^  V'  "  ''''''''^'  ''^'  we  wonder 
I  leldings  own  Ignorance,  when  he  says  in  his  dedication  of  this 

piece  to  Mrs.  Chve :  « It  is  your  misfortune  to  bring  the  .reals 
genms  for  actmg  on  the  stage,  at  a  time  when  the  frctions^nd  d  . 
visions  among  the  player,  have  conspired  with  the  folly,  injustice 
and  barbanty  of  the  town,  to  finish  the  ruin  of  the  sta^e  SdZt 
nfice  our  own  native  entertainments  to  a  wanton  affected  fondness 
for  foreign  music;  and  when  our  nobility  seem  eagerly  to  rivl 
each  other  in  distinguishing  themselves  in  favor  of  Mian  theatres 
and  in  neglect  of  our  own."     Fielding's  own  piece  justifies  the 
nobihty,  and  the  king's  condemnatory  criticism  is  only  the  putVen 
qumtessence  of  the  pubhc  opinion.     At  the  Italian^ Opef.   here 
^as  at  al    events  some  of  the  ^'—  stuff"  which  the  kin.  con! 
demned,  loudly  enough,  for  all  to  hear,  from  his  box  in  hr^^ 

In  this  same  year,  1751,  died  another  of  the  children  of  George 
and  Carohne-Louisa,  Queen  of  Denmark.  She  had  only  reached 
her  twenty-seventh  year,  and  had  been  eight  years  married.  Her 
mother  loved  her,  and  the  nation  admired  her  for  her  grace  amil' 
mS;;s  talents.  Her  career,  in  many  respects,  re^embirher 
Z   r         !r  r^  "'^""''^  ^^  ^  ^^"^  ^^^  ^^P*  ^  "^^^^tress,  in  order 

he  pt: :;;  ^^t  ^.'["'  '^  ^^^  ^^^^^-^^^^  ^^^"  -«-- :: 

Vol    I  -17  "  """  ^^''^^  '^'"^^^  '^  '^'  ^^S,  but  not 


,  f 


■li 


410 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


a  word  of  complaint  against  him  entered  into  the  letters  which  this 
spirited  and  sensible  woman  addressed  to  her  relations.  Indeed, 
she  had  said  at  the  time  of  her  marriage — that  if  she  should  be- 
come unhappy,  her  family  should  never  know  anything  about  it. 
She  died  in  the  flower  of  her  age,  a  terrible  death,  as  Walpole  calls 
it,  and  after  an  operation  which  lasted  an  hour.  The  cause  of  it 
was  the  neglect  of  a  slight  rupture,  occasioned  by  stooping  suddenly 
when  enceinte,  the  injury  resulting  from  which  she  imprudently 
and  foolishly  concealed.  This  is  all  the  more  strange,  as  her 
mother,  on  her  death-bed,  said  to  her,  "  Louisa,  remember  I  die 
by  being  giddy  and  obstinate,  in  having  kept  my  disorder  a  secret." 
Her  farewell  letter  to  her  father  and  family,  a  most  touching  ad- 
dress, and  the  similitude  of  her  fate  to  that  of  her  mother,  sensibly 
affected  the  almost  dried-up  heart  of  the  king.  "  This  has  been  a 
fatal  year  to  my  family,"  groaned  the  son  of  Sophia  Dorothea.  "  I 
lost  my  eldest  son,  hit  I  was  glad  of  it.  Then  the  Prince  of  Orange 
died,  and  left  everything  in  coniusion.  Poor  little  Edward  has 
been  cut  open  for  an  imposthume  in  his  side ;  and  now  the  Queen 
of  Denmark  is  gone  !  I  know  I  did  not  love  my  children  when 
they  were  young ;  I  hated  to  have  them  coming  into  the  room,  but 
now  I  love  them  as  well  as  most  fathers." 

But  while  death  was  busy  in  the  palace  of  the  king  as  well  as 
among  the  homes  of  the  people,  there  was  one  abroad  who  was 
teaching  how  the  sting  might  be  taken  from  death,  and  victory 
won  from  the  grave.  Whitfield  was  then  touching  many  a  heart, 
thou^'h  there  were  some  who  refused  to  heed  his  instruction. 

The  Countess  of  Suffolk  was  among  the  few  persons  whom  the 
eloquence  and  fervor  of  Whitfield  failed  to  touch.  When  this 
latter  was  chaplain  to  Lady  Huntingdon,  and  in  the  habit  of 
preaching  in  the  drawing-room  of  that  excellent  and  exemplary 
woman,  there  was  an  eager  desire  to  be  among  the  privileged  to 
be  admitted  to  hear  him.  This  privilege  was  solicited  of  Lady 
Huntingdon  by  Lady  Rockingham,  for  the  king's  ex-favorite. 
Lady  Suffolk.  The  patroness  of  Whitfield  thought  of  Magdalen 
repentant,  and  expressed  her  readiness  to  welcome  her,  an  addi- 
tional sheep  to  an  increasing  flock.  The  beauty  came,  and  Whit- 
field preached  neither  more  nor  less  earnestly,  unconscious  of  her 


CAROLINE  WILHELMINA  DOROTHEA.       411 

presence.     So  searching,  however,  was  his  sermon,  and  so  readily 
could  the  enraged  fair  one  apply  its  terrible  truths  to  herself  that 
It  was  only  with  difficulty  she  could  sit  it  out  with  apparent  cal^ 
Inwardly  she  felt  that  she  had  been  the  especial  olject  at  whi'h 
her  assailant  had  flung  his  sharpest  arrows.     Accordingly,  when 
^^  hitfield  had  retired,  the  exquisite  fuiy,  chafed  but  not  repentant 
turned  upon  the  meditative  Lady  Huntingdon,  and  well  nigh  anni- 
hilated her  wuh  the  torrent  and  power  of  her  invectiyl     Her 
SIS  er-m-law.  Lady  Betty  Germain,  implored  her  to  be  silent;  but 
only  the  more  unreservedly  did  she  empty  the  vials  of  her  wrath 
upon  the  samtly  lady  of  the  house,  who  was  lost  in  astonishment, 
anger,  and  confusion.    Old  Lady  Bertie  and  the  Dowager  Duchess 

^SuuT7r"l"  ^'"  ''''"''  "^^'  ^^  ''^'''  ^^  ^^^^-  relationship 
^ith  the  lady  whom  the  king  delighted  to  honor,  required  her  to 
be  sdent  or  cml.     It  was  all  in  vain ;  the  irritated  fair  one  main- 
tamed  that  she  had  been  brought  there  to  be  pilloried  by  the 
pread.er ;  and  she  finally  swept  out  of  the  room,  leaving  behind 
her  an  assemb  y  m  various  attitudes  of  wonder  and  alarm,  some 
fau'ly  deafened  by  the  thundering  echoes  of  her  expressed  wrath 
others  at  a  loss  to  decide  whether  Lady  Huntingdon  had  or  had' 
not  directed  the  arrows  of  the  preacher,  and  all  most  charmin<.ly 
unconscious  that    be  that  as  it  might,  the  lady  was  only  smarthio. 
because  she  had  rubbed  against  a  sermon  bristling  with  the  most 
stinging  truths. 

It  U  iinpo...ibIe  to  say  wlicthcr  Whitfield  was  or  ,yas  not  con- 
scious 01  the  presence  of  such  a  listener  to  the  message  which  he 
thuridered  to  arouse  listeners,  hut  his  certain  that  he  made  note 
of  those  of  the  royal  household  who  repaired  to  the  services  over 
which  he  presided  in  Lady  Huntingdon's  house.     In  1752  when 
he  saw  regularly  attending  among  his  congregation  one  of  Queen 
Carolines  ladies,  Mrs.  Grinfield,  he  writes  thereupon :" One  of 
Caesars  household  hath  been  lately  awakened  by  her  ladyship's 
instrumentality,  and  I  hope  others  will  meet  with  the  like  bless- 
ing.     Many  of  C-esar's  household  were  among  the  hearers  of  this 
energetic  preacher  in  the  days  when  George  III.  was  king,  but 
whether  his  hearers  were  heeders  ako,  I  will  not  pretend  to  detei. 


t 


412 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


mine ;  though  I  may  add,  that  Lord  Dartmouth  at  least  was  ever 
esteemed  for  his  piety  and  prudence. 

In  1755,  England  and  France  were  at  issue  touching  their  pos- 
sessions m  Canada.  The  dispute  resulted  in  a  war ;  and  the  war 
brought  with  it  the  temporary  loss  of  the  Electorate  of  Hanover 
to  England,  and  much  additional  disgrace,  which  last  was  not 
wiped  out  till  the  great  Pitt  was  at  the  helm,  and  by  his  spirited 
administration  helped  England  to  triumph  in  every  quarter  of  the 
globe.  Amid  misfortune  or  victory,  however,  the  king,  as  out- 
wardly *'  impassible  "  as  ever,  took  also  less  active  share  in  pubhc 
events  than  he  did  of  old ;  and  he  lived  with  the  regularity  of  a 
man  who  has  a  regard  for  his  health.  Every  night,  at  nine 
o'clock,  he  sat  down  to  cards.  The  party  generally  consisted  of 
his  two  daughters,  the  Princesses  Amelia  and  Caroline,  two  or 
three  of  the  late  queen's  ladies,  and  as  many  of  the  gentlemen  of 
the  household, — whose  presence  there  was  a  proof  of  the  sovereign's 
personal  esteem  for  them.  Had  none  other  been  present,  the 
party  would  have  been  one  on  which  remark  would  not  be  called 
for.  But  at  the  same  table  with  the  children  of  good  Queen 
Caroline,  was  seated  their  father's  mistress,  the  naturalized  Ger- 
man Baroness  Walmoden — Countess  of  Yarmouth.  Georsre  II. 
had  no  idea  that  the  presence  of  such  a  woman  was  an  outrage 
committed  upon  his  own  children ;  nor  would  his  habitual  phlegm 
have  been  much  moved  had  he  been  told  that  his  conduct  in  this 
case  was  unmarked  by  a  sense  of  either  dignity  or  propriety ;  and 
yet  he  himself  feared  to  thus  oftend  publicly.  Every  Saturday,  in 
summer,  he  carried  that  uniform  party,  but  without  his  daughters^ 
to  Richmond.  They  went  in  coaches-and-six,  in  the  middle  of  the 
day,  with  the  heavy  horse-guards  kicking  up  the  dust  before  them  ; 
— dined,  walked  an  hour  in  the  garden,  returned  in  the  same  dusty 
parade ;  and  his  majesty  fancied  himself  the  most  galhrnt  and 
lively  prince  in  Europe.* 

He  had  leisure,  however,  to  think  of  the  establishment  of  the 
sons  of  Frederick ;  and,  in  1756,  George  II.  sent  a  message  to  his 
grandson,  now  Prince  of  Wales,  whereby  he  offered  him  40,000/. 
a  year,  and  apartments  at  Kensington  and  St.  James's.     The 

*  Walpole. 


CAROLINE  WltHELMINA  DOROTHEA.  4X3 

prince  accepted  the  allowance,  but  declined  the  residence  on  ,). 

make  her  a  visit    nn  1     1        ""«"">  ^  l^J'ltelton  was  fo  wise  as  to 

plan  laid  ibr  brinJXeZ.   >l:n      T'"t  *''''  ''  "^^  ^ 

Mr.  Fox  was  not  in  ^  ,1  '"'''"''^  -""^  ^^'-  ^^<'^-     As 

ox  was  not  ju>t  the  person  my  Ladv  K««c\-  wn«  M„ni  •        r 

bringing  together  with  Prince  Edward     L        y    ,  °  "^ 

Ihe  truth-lovino-  C-irnllno  T?r     i    .1 
by  her  parent.,  wa",  wo«  l! 'f   he    ff   T  ""''^-"-'^'y  "-^'oved 
ardent  Laehment.    X  L"   ft      T"'  "'  """''  '*  "^^ ''" 
happy.     The  cause  of  L        ,      '  -^      '  '"^^'""P"^!"^'!-  and  un- 

.^r -gues  Ja:rtr2r:::;r^^^ 

into  a  sort  of  motherfy  Le  fo  t  '-  "vu  7'  ""  '"'^'oP'^'' 
J'ibited  great  and  con.,.(„  "o^ard  T^  ^^'  '7  ^"""^  ^''^  '- 
of  but  one  ..tron^  desire  ,°1  ■  ^J'T^'^^i  ^''«  ^''^  conscious 
vious  to  her  decea^:,  :hU  r  :  W  IhS  ^^  ^-rs  pre- 

'•  cloistered  up,"  in.,ceessible  to  nearly^ll  ^f w  .t  "!"""'  '"'™"^    " 
Tor  .he  poor  and  su<rering  c.asse.  i:!i:^:^:;^r''''' '^""^^y 

...i;itS.eT?So;Vn  t-?,r  "T  :-''-  "-  ">« 

been  so  dangerous  f™  tl  L?!  T  ^ '^  °' '''^^'''' ''^ 

years,  and  her  absolute  confinement  for 


414 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


many  of  them,  her  disorder  was,  in  a  manner,  new  and  sudden, 
and  her  death  unexpected  by  herself,  though  earnestly  her  wish. 
Her  goodness  was  constant  and  uniform,  her  generosity  immense, 
her  charities  most  extensive;  in  short,  I,  no  royalist,  could  be 
lavish  in  her  praise.  What  will  divert  you  is,  that  the  Duke  of 
Norfolk's  and  Lord  Northumberland's  upper  servants  have  asked 
leave  to  put  themselves  in  mourning,  not  out  of  regard  for  this 
admirable  princess,  but  to  be  more  sur  le  bon  ton  I  told  the 
duchess  I  supposed  they  would  expect  her  to  mourn  hereafter  for 
their  relations. 

The  princess  died  in  December,  1757,  and  early  in  the  follow- 
ing vear  the  kini?  was  seized  with  a  serious  fit  of  illness,  which 
terminated  in  a  severe  attack  of  gout,  "  which  had  never  been  at 
court  above  twice  in  his  reign,"  says  Walpole,  and  the  a[)pearance 
of  which  was  considered  as  giving  the  royal  sufferer  a  chance  of 
five  or  six  years  more  of  life.  But  it  was  not  to  be  so,  for  the  old 
royal  lion  in  the  Tower  had  just  expired,  and  people  who  could 
"put  that  and  that  together,'*  could  not  but  pronounce  oracuhirly 
that  the  royal  man  would  follow  the  royal  brute.  Nay,  says  Lord 
Chesterfield  to  his  son,  '•  this  extravagancy  was  believed  by  many 
above  peopled  The  fine  gentleman  means  that  it  was  believed 
by  many  of  his  own  class.  Below  the  peers  he  saw  the  people^ 
just  as  Dangeau  saw  in  the  citizens  of  Paris  the  "canaille." 
Chesterfield,  it  will  be  remembered,  was  fond  of  citing  proverbs, 
but  he  alwavs  did  it  with  a  condcr^cending  air ;  he  used  the  illus- 
trative  wit,  tacking  on  to  it  a  sort  of  apologetic,  as  the  vulgar  say. 

It  was;  not  the  old  king  who  was  the  first  to  be  summoned  from 
the  royal  circle,  by  the  Inevitable  Angel.  A  young  princess 
passed  away  before  the  more  aged  sovereign.  Walpole  has  a 
word  or  two  to  say  upon  the  death  of  the  Princess  Elizabeth,  the 
second  daughter  of  Frederick  Prince  of  Wales,  who  died  in  the 
September  of  this  year.  The  immediate  cause  of  death  was  an 
inflammation  of  the  bowels,  which  carried  her  oft'  in  two  days. 
"  Her  figure,"  he  says,  "  was  so  very  unfortunate,  that  it  would 
have  been  difficult  for  her  to  be  happy,  but  her  parts  and  applica- 
tion were  extraordinary.  I  saw  her  act  in  *  Cato'  at  eight  years 
old  (when   she   could  not  stand  alone,   but   was  forced  to  lean 


CAROLINE  WILHEI.MIN-A   DOROTHEA.  415 

taught  ,0  read,  but  had  ^M.T Z  Ti^-' ^'t  ""'  ''^- 
others  study  their  Darts      SI.!  .      .  T  u      .         "  ^^  ^""""^  "»« 

wKh  so  much  sense,  that  there  was  no  denying  he,"  '  "  "" 

Before  George's  hour  had  yet  come,  anmher  child  was  to  nre 
cede  the  aged   father  to  the  tomb      In  IT^Q  ,K   '  ,,       ^        ^  ^' 
>ea.t  loved  of  the  daughters  of  Ca'^hne      ed  i  'hI:  '7 1' 
penod  of  her  birth,  the   9th  of  October    170Q  I  ,       , 

Queen  Anne,  was  occupying  .he  t^^'ne    'f  EnTnT-  l^d' 

^Sr;.:nafir:;Lrr;?^r  -'?— 

;vore  t.  s.y;e  and  title  of  Klecto^arpl^ "'^^^^^^^^^^^ 

.he  Princess  Caroline  af.orwal  Vuc^Ir  j  X'  r  "''""''' 
on  the  loth  of  October    1714      «..„        ,      ^1 '"  "'"  """"^'y 

defect      She  ,H  1         /^  '"'"  Ca'ol'n«  sharply  corrected  this  last 
IT'f  r",'^''^'"'''"'-^  "'at  'he  princess  was  accustomed  to  mtke 
one  of  her  ladies-nt-waiting  stand  by  her  bed-side  evert  n^'ht 
and  read  aloud  to  her  till  slip  foil   nX  r^  "^     ^    ' 

.equested  her  ,0  read  aloud  ,0  her  for  a  while.     The  prinS  wa 
about  ,0  take  a  chair,  but  the  c,ueen  said  she  could  1  ea    1     I-   !" 

;  u ::  ""^^"'-JT  '"'^■'''  -^  -^  '■•"  '^"."0  td';; 

i         11  •,         , '  "'"  ''''"^"'  "  "  '•"">"ains  me."    Anne  went 

o»,   sulkily  and   wearily,  till  increasingly  weary  .he  nZ 
paused  for  rest,  and  looked  round  for%  It  ^•  r    T    """"^ 
.inue,.;..idthec,ueen,..Iam  not  yet  ^L  0  '  lis.e'n  n"  r^rj 
burst  mto  tears  with  vexa.ion,  and  confessed  that  she  las  d  "d 
both  of  standmg  and  reading,  and  was  ready  to  sink  with  fatigue.' 


416 


LIVES  OF  THE    QUEEXS   OF  ENGLAND. 


"  If  jou  feel  so  faint  from  one  evening  of  such  employment,  what 
must  your  attendants  feel,  upon  whom  you  force  the  same  disci- 
pline night  after  night  ?  Be  less  selfish,  my  child,  in  future,  and 
do  not  indulge  in  luxuries  purchased  at  tlie  cost  of  weariness  and 
ill-health  to  others."  Anne  did  not  profit  by  the  lesson,  and  few 
people  were  warmly  attached  to  the  proud  and  egotistical  lady. 

The  piincess  spent  nearly  twenty  years  in  England,  and  a  little 
more  than  a  quarter  of  a  century  in  Holland  ;  the  last  seven  years 
of  tliat  periotl  she  was  a  widow.  She  was  ambitious  to  the  last. 
Her  last  thoughts  were  for  the  ajrirrandizement  of  her  familv,  and, 
when  she  was  battling  with  death,  she  rallied  her  strength,  in 
order  to  sign  the  contract  of  marriage  between  her  daughter  and 
the  Prince  Nassau  Walberg,  and  to  write  a  letter  to  the  States, 
General,  requesting  them  to  sanction  the  match.  Having  accom- 
plished this,  the  eldest  daughter  of  Caroline  laid  down  the  pen, 
and  clalmly  awaited  the  death  which  was  not  long  in  coming. 

It  remains  for  us  now  only  to  speak  of  the  demise  of  the  hus- 
band of  Caroline.  The  hour  of  that  widowed  king  at  length  had 
struck.  On  the  night  of  Friday,  the  24th  of  October,  the  king 
had  retired  to  rest  at  an  early  hour,  and  well  in  health.  At  six 
he  di-ank  his  usual  cup  of  chocolate,  walked  to  the  window,  looked 
out  upon  Kensington  Gardens,  and  made  some  observation  upon 
the  direction  of  the  wind,  which  had  latelv  delaved  the  mails 
from  Holland,  and  which  kept  from  him  intelligence  which  he 
was  anxious  to  receive,  and  which  lie  wa^  saved  the  pain  of 
hearing.  He  had  said  to  the  page  in  waiting,  that  he  would  take 
a  turn  in  the  garden ;  and  he  was  on  his  way  thither  at  seven 
o'clock,  when  the  attendant  heard  the  sound  of  a  fall.  He  entered 
the  room  through  which  the  king  was  passing  on  his  way  to  the 
garden,  and  he  found  George  the  Second  Ivin":  on  the  ground, 
with  a  wound  on  the  right  side  of  his  face,  caused  by  striking  it  in 
his  tall  against  the  side  of  a  bureau.  He  could  only  say,  "  Send 
for  Amelia,"  and  then,  gasping  for  breath,  died.  Whilst  the  sick, 
almost  deaf,  and  purblind  daughter  of  the  king  wa-s  sent  for,  the 
message  being  that  her  father  wished  to  speak  to  her,  the  servants 
carried  the  body  to  the  bed  from  which  the  king  had  so  lately 
risen.     They  had  not  time  to  close  the  eyes,  when  the  priocf  S3 


CAROUNE  WILHELMI.VA  DOROTHEA.       417 

i^M^^'Sriii  M:  -t?'"- -  - - 

but  she  did  not  loltrJilT:^^'l  '"VT'''  ''"^''^'■' 
sengers  for  surgeons,  and™  to  I^  '  '  ""' 

medical  men  were  .neJi  ^"""^  °^  ^^'^'es-     The 

mortal  help;anr.he;Cnd''o:i  """,'?"'  ""'  *>«  ^^  '>«y-d 
of  .he  rupture  of  solTe^ei?frrf  "''  '"^  ^ing  had  died 
been  subject  to  pa,pi:a;ir '„;  ^t^  ^^  V^bX  'p  ^^^" 
m  his  panegyrizin-  eoitanh  n.  .1        ^  ^^^'^^^  Porteus, 

-  wh,g  hefn  a,;r:s^\  z:::-'^%:>^f'^-  ^^^  ^-^^^ 

all  for  which  he  had   hp.,,         ^ece..sary.     He  had  accomplished 

received  aU  th^^ewar^l    "^iS  I'  ''''''"   '''   '^' 
man  on  earth:—  '^"  ^"^^^'^  «0"M  give  to 

"  Tu°  '''""'",  ""'"'"g  '•<'"'''  on  earth  be  given 
The  next  degree  of  happi„es»-was  nLen  " 

Cumberland  and  the  Prince    ^  A    T"^  '"'"'*""  ""^  ^"''e  of 
-ceived  by  his  dau  Je  "d  d  nol"    " ,''"'  ^''''-     "^he  share 
«  favorite  "iLady  rZomt     Th  T      ^^^'  '"^  ''''  '°  '"'^  >^t 
of  whom  he  used  to  write   ,„  O       T^  '°  "^'  «^™^"  >«'ly. 

•' Vou  must  love  the^Xod:.?orsLw'"  ^^   "^"°^•^'' 
cabinet  „„.,  ..,„„„„,,„  ,.^,^^  ' /^^^  f^^^^' --ted  of  a 

pounds.  His  son,  the  Duke  of  f •  ,  ,  f  *'"^"  thousand 
from  him  a  bequest  of  a  I.L  ^""'^"^'^'^^^  further  received 
placed  on  mortgage  not  imm.i'f  T  """^  "'°"^'«"<'  I-""<1^. 
had  onginally  b:quelth:d  t^c  tf  "'=°^*"""<^-  The  testato; 
revoked  half,  on  the  ground  of  ll  ""'  '°  ""''  ^™ '  >""  ^^ 
describes  him  as  the  bo!t   on  thnt  T"""'  "''  ""=  "■^-     He 

^  never  given  hi^clu:    t VeT^^  ^".f^^''^^^^^^ 
comment,"  a^  Horace  Waln^l-.  ""'^"''ed:  "A  pretty  strong 

dents  of  the  kingrdecJie'^onT't:  "';"  ''^''"'""^  "■«  '"- 
k;n„'.  ;        I  "eccase,     on  the  affair  of  Klo^tersevpn "     Tk 

king  s  jewels  were  worth,  according  to  Ladv  S„ff  i  ^         ''* 

and  fifty  thousand  pounds:  of  the  be  t  nf  .V         ,:  ""^  '"""''^'' 

Hanover,  he  made  crown  jetkVe   't"' f*^' '•' '^''' ^ 

jewels,   the   remamder,   with   some 


i 


418 


LIVES   OF  THE   QUEENS  OF   ENGLAND. 


cabinets,  were  left  to  the  duke.  "Two  days  before  the  king 
died,"  says  Walpole,  "it  happened  oddly  to  my  Lady  Suffolk. 
She  went  to  make  a  visit  at  Kensington,  not  knowing  of  the 
review.  She  found  herself  hemmed  in  by  coaches,  and  was  close 
to  him,  whom  she  had  not  seen  for  so  many  years,  and  to  my 
Lady  Yarmouth ;  but  they  did  not  know  her.  It  struck  her,  and 
has  made  her  sensible  to  his  death." 

Intelligence  of  the  king's  decease  was  sent,  as  before  said,  to  the 
Prince  of  Wales,  by  the  Princess  Amelia.  The  heir-apparent, 
however,  received  earlier  intimation  of  the  fact  through  a  German 
valet-de-chamhre,  at  Kensington.  The  latter  dispatched  a  note, 
which  bore  a  private  mark,  previously  agreed  upon,  and  which 
reached  the  heir  to  so  much  greatness,  as  he  was  out  riding.  He 
knew  what  had  happened,  by  the  sign.  "Without  surprise  or 
emotion,  without  dropping  a  word  that  indicated  what  had  hap- 
pened, he  said  his  horse  was  lame,  and  tuined  back  to  Kew.  At 
dismounting  he  said  to  the  groom, — '  I  have  said  this  horse  was 
lame  ;  1  forbid  you  to  say  to  the  contrary.' "  If  this  story  of  Wal- 
pole's  be  true,  the  longest  reign  in  England  started  from  a  lie. 

In  the  meantime  there  was  the  old  king  to  bury,  and  he  was 
consigned  to  the  tomb  with  a  ceremony  which  has  been  graphically 
pictured  by  Horace  Wal|>ole,  upon  whom  I  will  once  more  venture 
to  draw  for  details,  to  attempt  to  improve  which  can  only  be  to 
mar  them.  He  describes  himself  as  attending  the  funeral,  not  as 
a  mourner,  but  as  '*  a  rag  of  quality,"  in  which  character  he  walk- 
ed, as  affording  him  the  best  means  of  seeing  the  show.  He  pro- 
nounced it  a  noble  sight,  and  he  appears  to  have  enjoyed  it  ex- 
tremely. "  The  prince's  chamber,  hung  with  purple,  and  a  quan- 
tity of  silver  lamps,  the  cotfin  under  a  cano})y  of  purple  velvet,  and 
six  vast  chandeHers  of  silver,  on  high  stands,  had  a  very  good 
effect."  The  critic  of  taste  was  satisfied,  and  that  not  only  with 
the  scenery  and  properties,  but  idso  with  the  procession  and  para- 
phernalia. "  The  procession,  through  a  line  of  foot-guards,  every 
seventh  man  bearing  a  torch — the  horse-guards  lining  the  outside 
— their  otficers,  with  drawn  sabres  and  crape  sashes,  on  horse- 
l)ack — the  drums  muffled — the  fifes — bells  tolling — and  minute- 
guns, — all  this  was  very  solemn."    There  was,  however,  something 


CAROLINE  WILHELMINA   DOROTHEA.  419 

more  exquisite  still  in  the  estimation  nf  *i.- 
rag  of  quality.     "  The  cW,»  hT  "l  1    1!  ^7. unsentimental 
even  a  funeral  could  not  have  soL,r        ■         ^"  '"agining  that 
charm  wa.  the  entrance  ,0  tie  aX  !' wh      ™'"^  *'"'"'  ''-""•« 
tl.e  dean  and  chapter  in  rich  wbe    7'    ,        ''"  *''"  ^"<=^''^«<J  ^y 
torches;  the  whofe  Abbevl  HI     '        ?°"'  ""''  "''"""^'•^  bearing 
advantage  than  by  dty      h".     'b    ^f     m'  ""  ^^'^ ''  '^  S~ 
appearing  dis.incfly,  fnd  .  t      h:  1  aS  M "'  '''''''  -^'  '^^ 
happy  light  and  shade  of  death  i,,!r  "  "'""'''■"     ^he 

-  correct  a  gentleman  a^  Ho  ace  WaCf  k'""."  ''^  •"°""'  "^ 
things  in  the  sense  of  MonW  Jo  f'^'^rt  L"'^  '°t  " 
"  There  wanted  nothinor  hut  ;„  ,  ^^^  proceeds :— 

•here,  with  priests^ "n°.  mU Zl  ""'^'^'^''^'^  '"^^  ^^^ 
one  could  not  complain  ^f^ ^  tinTc:!,"- '''  ''^'""'^''  ^'^^ 
been  in  dread  of  being  coupled  wi.h^  I  "  ""'"'«''•  ^  ^ad 
but  the  heralds  were  not Te^'lrl^'::^  ^  ,f  T  '''''  "''  '' 
Grenville.  taller  and  older  to  Wn  ^  ^'^^''^'^  "'"'  George 

came  to  the  Chapel  of  i  „ry  Tu*^:;  T''™"""  '''"^  ^ 
ceased;  no  order  was  oh-„r,    i  ,      '"'•'""'"^  and  decorum 

couM  or  would;  .h: ^o^li'lltltt:^  ^'^  ^''^  '"^^ 
oppressed  by  the  immense  weight  lTtelT"7  °"'  '"''"'P' 
^adly,  and  blundered  in  the  praters      Th!  Z""'  '"'  ""^""P  -"<! 

"*"'•«  ^/«  ~,  was  chantXnot  rid  •  LVr"'  f "  """ 
sides  bemg  immeasurably  tedious   wo„M.  ^""'^"''  ^c- 

nuptial..  The  real  seriou'.  part  wa-  ,l!  fi  '  T'"^  "^  "^"  *°'-  a 
berland.  heightened  bv  l\CZa    ''^^T,  °'-"*^  ^"'^'^  °'  <^"»- 

had  a  ...,.,.o„.„  „aonis,  w;raiioTk?£r;,:r'-r  "^ 

ot  five  yards.  Attending  the  fun^r,!  <•  7  "^'"'h' and  a  train 
/>W«.;  his  leg  extremelvtd,::  Voiced  to  f'!;  ""'^  ""  '^ 
««o  hours;  his  face  b.oatej  and  dil  ^  ,,;?  ,  "^"  "  "^^^ 
stroke,  which  has  aftected,  too  one  nfT  ^'^  P^-^'^'^^ 

the  mouth  of  the  vault   into  ,^ieh  if"  '■*''  ^"''  ^^^""^  °^cr 

.elf  soon  descend ;  think  ho     ^1  ''™'""'""^'  ""^  ■"-'  h™- 

aU  with  a  «™  an<i  urli^Z Z^Z  '^  Th"'""-  "^  '^^'^  ^' 
fully  contrasted  by  the  burlesque  Dule  of  v"  ^'''"'  ""'"''  "'"^ 
into  a  fit  of  crvin/,he  momem  ?  Newcastle.     He  feU 

himself  back  into^a  rairie  l,b T'  T"  '"'  """"^"'^  '"''  «""? 

-tail,  the  archbishop  hovering  over  him  wi,h  a 


420 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


smelling-bottle ;  but  in  two  minutes  his  curiosity  got  the  better  of 
his  hypocrisy,  and  he  ran  about  the  chapel  with  his  glass,  to  spy 
who  was  or  who  was  not  there,  spying  with  one  hand  and  mopping 
his  eyes  with  the  other.  Then  returned  the  fear  of  catching  cold : 
and  the  Duke  of  CumbeHand,  who  was  sinking  with  heat,  felt  him- 
self weighed  down,  and  turning  round,  found  it  was  the  Duke  of 
Newcastle  t^tanding  upon  his  train  to  avoid  the  chill  of  the  marble. 
It  was  very  theatrical  to  look  down  into  the  vault,  where  the  coflSn 
lay  attended  by  mourners  with  lights.  Clavering,  the  groom  of 
the  chamber,  refused  to  sit  up  with  the  body,  and  was  dismissed 
by  the  king's  order." 

Speaking  of  the  last  year  of  the- life  of  George  II.,  Walpole 
remai'ks  with  a  truth  that  cannot  be  gainsaid, — "It "was  glorious 
and  triumphant  beyond  example ;  and  his  death  was  most  felici- 
tous to  himself,  being  without  a  pang,  without  tasting  a  reverse, 
and  when  his  sight  and  hearing  were  so  nearly  extinguished  that 
any  prolongation  could  but  have  swelled  to  calamities." 


END    OP   VOL.  I. 


J 


xi* 


>/ 


y, 


'&. 


'^c 


■iiP 


BRimE  DO  NOT 
PHOTOCOPY 


•  o 

M  >4 


O)  \ 


X:>7^<^ 


Columbia  Winibtviitp 

in  tfje  Citp  of  jgeto  gorb 


LIBRARY 


This  book  is  due  two  weeks  from  the  last  date  stamped 
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LIVES 


.   G     J^.      ^ 


<2k_-^ 


OF    THE 


QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND 


OF    THE 


HOUSE    OF  HANOVER 


BY  DR.  DORAN, 


M      (. 


» 


AUTHOR     OF     "HABITS     AND     MEN,        "TABLE     TRAITS,        ETC 


IN    TWO     VOLUMES. 


VOL.    IL 


REDFIELD 

NO.   34  BEEK.M  AN-STREET,   NEW  YORK 

1855 


«     *  • 


3-iac 


V      • 


LIYES 


OF   THE 


QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


CHARLOTTE   SOPHIA, 

WIFE  OF  GEORGE   III. 

In  Freud  unci  Elcnd, 
Als  treue  Gattinn 
Nicht  zu  entweichen. 

GdETHR. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  COMING  OF  THE  BRIDE. 

The  eldest  son  of  Frederick,  Prinee  of  AVales,  was  yet  youn.. 
wlien  his  grandfather  began  to  consider  the  question  of  his  mar! 
nage  ;  and,  it  is  said,  had  designed  to  form  an  union  between  him 
and  a  princess  of  the  royal  family  of  Prussia.     The  design,  if  ever 
formed,   entirely   failed,   and   while  those  most  anxious  for  the 
1  rotestant  succession  were  occupied  in  naming  princesses  worthy 
to  espouse  an  heir  to  a  throne,  .hat  heir  himself  is  said  to  have 
hxed  Ins  young  affections  on  an  English  lady,  whose  virtues  and 
beauty  might  have  made  her  eligible,  had  not  the  accident  of  her 
not  beuig  a  foreigner  barred   her  way  to  the  throne.     This  lady 
was   Lady  Sarah  Lennox  ;  and  a  vast  amount  of  gossip  was  ex- 
pended upon  her  and  the  young  Prince,  by  those  busy  persons 
whose  chief  occupation  consists  in  arranging  the  affairs  of  others 


4  LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 

It  is  impossible  to  say  how  far  this  young  couple  were  engaged ; 
but  the  fact,  as  surmised,  rendered  the  friends  of  the  Prince,  now 
George  IIL,  more  anxious  than  ever  to  see  him  provided  with  a 
fair  partner  on  the  tlirone. 

Walpole  has  described  the  lady  who  first  raised  a  tender  feeling 
in  the  breast  of  George,  in  very  graphic  terms :  ''  There  was  a  play 
at  Holland  House,  acted  by  children ;  not  all  children,  for  Lady 
Sarah  Leimox  and  Lady  Susan  Strangways  played  the  women. 
It  was  Jane  Shore.  Charles  Fox  was  Hastinfjs.  The  two  girls 
were  delightful,  and  acted  with  so  much  nature,  that  tliey  appeared 
the  very  things  they  represented.  Lady  Sarah  was  more  beautiful 
than  you  can  conceive ;  and  her  very  awkwardness  gave  an  air  of 
truth  to  the  sham  of  the  part,  and  the  antiquity  of  the  time,  kept 
up  by  her  dress,  which  was  taken  out  of  Montfaucon.  Lady  Susan 
was  dressed  from  Jane  Seymour.  I  was  more  struck  with  the  last 
scene  between  the  two  women  than  ever  I  was  when  I  have  seen 
it  on  the  stage.  When  Lady  Sarah  was  in  white,  with  her  hair 
about  her  eai-s,  and  on  the  ground,  no  Magdalen  of  Correggio  was 
half  so  lovely  and  expressive." 

But  there  is  a  pretty  romance  extant,  based  as  even  romances 
may  be,  upon  some  foundation  of  reality  ;  and  according  to  the 
narrators  thereof,  it  is  said  that  the  king,  when  yet  only  Prince  of 
Wales,  had  been  attracted  by  the  charms  of  a  young  Quakeress, 
named  Lightfoot,  long  before  he  had  felt  subdued  by  the  more 
brilliant  beauty  of  Lady  Sarah  Lennox.  The  romance  has  been 
recounted  circumstantially  enough  by  its  authors  and  editors  ;  and, 
if  these  are  to  be  trusted,  the  young  prince  was  so  enamored  that, 
finding  his  peace  of  mind  and  happiness  depended  on  his  bein"" 
united  to  the  gentle  Hannah,  he  made  a  confidant  of  his  brother, 
Edward  Duke  of  York,  and  another  person,  who  has  never  had 
the  honor  of  being  named,  and  in  their  presence  a  marriage  was 
contracted  privately  at  Curzon  Street  Chapel,  May  Fair,  in  the 
year  1750. 

A  few  years  previous  to  this  time,  ^May  Fair  had  been  the 
fiivorite  locality  for  the  celebration  of  hurried  marriages,  particu- 
larly at  "Keith's  Chapel,"  which  was  within  ten  yards  of"  Curzon 
Chapel."     The  Reverend  Alexander  Keith  kept  open  altar  during 


I 


. 


CHARLOTTE   SOPHIA.  5 

the  usual  office  hours  from  ten  till  four,  and  married  parties,  for 
the  small  fee  of  a  guinea,  license  included.  Parties  requiring  to  be 
united  at  other  hours,  paid  extra.  The  Reverend  Alexander  so 
outraged  the  law  that  he  was  publicly  excommunicated  in  1742; 
for  which  he  as  publicly  excommunicated  the  excommunicators  in 
return.  Seven  years  before  George  is  said  to  have  married  Han- 
nah Lightfoot  at  Curzon  Chapel,  James,  the  fourth  Duke  of 
Hamilton,  was  married  at  "  Keith's,"  to  the  youngest  of  the  beau- 
tiful Miss  Gunnings, — "  with  a  ring  of  the  bed-curtain,"  says 
Horace  Walpole,  "  and  at  half  an  hour  after  twelve  at  night." 

The  rest  of  the  pretty  romance,  touching  George  and  Hannah, 
is  rather  lumbering  in  its  construction.  The  married  lovers  are 
said  to  have  kept  a  little  household  of  their  own,  and  round  the 
hearth  thereof,  we  are  farther  told,  that  there  were  not  wantin<» 
successive  young  faces,  adding  to  its  happiness.  But  there  came 
the  moment  when  the  dream  was  to  disappear,  and  the  sleeper  to 
awaken.  We  are  told  by  the  retailers  of  the  story,  that  Hannah 
Lightfoot  was  privately  disposed  of— not  by  bowl,  prison,  or  dagger, 
but  by  espousing  her  to  a  gentle  Strephon  named  Axford,  who,  for 
a  pecuniary  consideration,  took  Hannah  to  wife,  and  asked  no  im- 
pertinent questions.  It  is  but  an  indifferent  story,  but  it  has  been 
so  often  alluded  to  that  some  notice  of  it  seemed  necessary  in  this 
place. 

More  tlian  one  princess  was  proposed  to  the  young  king,  as  a 
suitable  consort,  but  the  monarch,  ultimately,  selected  a  bride  for 
himself. 

The  king's  mother  had  been  most  averse  to  the  Prussian  con- 
nection. Mr.  Fox,  afterwards  Lord  Holland,  is  said  to  have  done 
his  best  to  further  an  union  with  a  subject.  The  Princess  Dowa- 
ger of  Wales  and  Lord  Bute  would  have  selected  a  princess  of 
Saxe  Gotha ;  but  it  was  whispered  that  there  was  a  constitutional 
infirmity  in  that  family,  which  rendered  an  alliance  with  it  in  no 
way  desirable.  Besides,  George  II.  said,  he  had  had  enough  of  that 
family  already.  A  Colonel  Graeme  was  then  dispatched  to  Ger- 
many, and  rumor  invested  him  with  the  commission  to  visit  the 
German  courts,  and  if  he  could  find  among  them  a  princess  who 
was  faultless  in  form,  feature,  and  character,  of  sound  health  and 


6 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF   ENGLAND. 


highly  accomi)lishcd,  he  was  to  report  accordingly.  Colonel 
Graeme,  loves  military  messenger,  happened  to  fall  in  at  Pyrmont 
with  the  Princess  Dowager  of  Strelitz  and  her  two  daughters.  At 
the  gay  baths  and  salutary  springs  of  Pyrmont  there  was  very 
little  etiquette  observed,  even  in  those  very  ceremonious  times,  and 
great  people  went  about  less  in  masquerade,  and  less  straitlaced 
than  they  were  wont  to  do  at  home,  in  the  circle  of  their  own 
courts.  In  this  sort  of  negligie  there  was  a  chjinn  which  favored 
the  development  of  character,  and  under  its  influence  the  scrutini- 
zing Colonel  soon  vicariouslv  fell  in  love  with  the  vounff  Princess 
Charlotte,  and  at  once  made  the  report  which  led  to  the  royal 
marriage  that  ensued. 

There  were  persons  who  denied  that  this  little  romantic  drama 
was  ever  played  at  all,  but  as  the  Colonel  was  subsequently  ap- 
pointed to  the  mastership  of  St.  Catharine's  Hospital,  the  prettiest 
bit  of  preferment  possessed  by  a  queen  consort,  other  persons 
looked  upon  the  appointment  as  the  due  acknowledgment  of  a 
pnncess  grateful  for  favors  received. 

But  after  all,  as  I  have  intimated,  tlie  young  king  is  positively 
declared  to  have  chosen  for  himself.     The  King  of  Prussia  at  that 
time  was  a  man  very  much  addicted  to  disre<rard  the  ri'^hts  of  his 
contemporaries,  and  among  other  outrages  committed  by  his  army, 
was  the  invasion,  and  almost  desolating,  of  the  little  dominions  of 
Mecklenl)urgh  Strelitz,  the  ducal  possessions  of  the  Princess  Char- 
lotte's brother.     This  act  inspired,  it  is  said,  the  lady  last-named 
to  pen  a  letter  to  the  monarch,  which  was  as  full  of  spirit  as  of  lo- 
gic, and  not  likely  to  have  been  written  by  so  young  a  ladv.     The 
letter,  however,  was  sufficiently  spirited  and"  conclusive*  to  win 
reputation  for  the  alleged  writer.     Its  great  charm  was  its  simple 
and   touching  truthfulness,  and   the  letter,  whether  forwarded  to 
George  by  the  Pnissian  king,  or  laid  before  him  by  his  mother  the 
Princess  Dowager,  is  said  to  have  had  such  an 'influence  on  his 
mind,  .IS  to  at  once  inspire  him  with  feelings  of  admiration  for  the 
writer.     After  praising  it,  the  king  exclaimed  to  Lord  Hertford, 
"  This  is  the  lady  whom  I  shall  select  for  my  consort— here  are 
la«*ting  beauties— the  man  who  has  any  mind  may  feast  and  not  be 
satisfied.     If  the  disposition  of  the  princess  but  equals  her  refined 


I 


I 


\ 


CHARLOTTE   SOPHIA.*  7 

sense,  I  shall  be  the  happiest  man,  as  I  hope,  with  my  people's 
concurrence,  to  be  the  greatest  monarch  in  Europe." 

The  lady  on  whom  this  eulogy  was  uttered,  was  Sophia  Chariotte, 
the  younger  of  the  two  daughters  of  Charies  Louis,  Duke  of 
Mirow,  by  Albertina  Elizabeth,  a  jmncess  of  the  ducal  house  of 
Saxe  Hilburghausen.  The  Duke  of  ISIirow  was  the  second  son 
of  the  Duke  of  Mecklenburgh  Strelitz,  and  was  a  lieutenant-general 
m  the  service  of  the  Emperor  of  Germany  when  Sophia  Charlotte 
was  bom,  at  Mirow, 'on  the  IGth  of  May,  1744.  Four  sons  and 
one  other  daughter  were  the  issue  of  this  marriage.  The  eldest 
son,  ultimately,  became  Duke  of  Mecklenburgh  Strelitz,  and  to  the 
last-named  place  the  Princess  Sophia  Chariotte  (or  Charlotte,  as 
she  was  commonly  called)  and  her  family,  removed  in  1751,  on 
the  death  of  the  Duke  Charies  Louis. 

At  seven  years  of  age,  she  had  for  her  instructress  that  verse- 
writing  Madame  de  Grabow,  whom  the  Germans  fondly  and  fool- 
ishly compared  with  Sapi>ho.     The  post  of  instructress  was  shared 
by  many  partners,  but,  finally,  to  the  poetress  succeeded  a  philoso- 
pher.    Di-.  Gentzn^r,  who,  from  the  time  of  his  undertaking  the 
otlice  of  tutor,  to  that  of  the  marriage  of  his  «  serene  "  pupil,  im- 
parted  to  the  latter  a  varied  wisdom  and  knowledge,  made  up  of 
Lutheran  divinity,  natural  history,  and  mineralogy.     Chariotte  not 
only  cultivated  these  branches  of  education  with  success,  but  others 
also.     She  was  a  very  fair  linguist,  spoke  French  perhaps  better 
than  German,  as  was  the  fashion  of  her  time  and  countrj-,  could 
converse  in  Italian,  and  knew  something  of  English.     Her  style 
of  drawing  was  above  that  of  an  orflnary  amateur;  she  danced 
like  a  lady,  and  played  like  an  artist.     Better  than  all,  she  was  a 
woman  of  good  sense,  she  had  the  good  fortune  to  be  early  taught 
the  great  tnuhs  of  revelation,  and  she  had  the  good  taste  to  shape 
her  course  by  their  requirements.     She  was  not  without  faults,  and 
she  had  a  will  of  her  own.     In    short,  she  was  a  woman ;— a 
woman  of  sense  and  spirit,  but  occasionally  making  mistakes  like 
any  other  of  her  sisters. 

The  letter  which  she  is  said  to  have  addressed  to  the  King  of 
Pnissia,  and  the  alleged  writing  of  which  is  said  to  have  won  for 
her  a  crown,  has  been  often  printed ;  but  well  known  as  it  is,  it 


8 


LIVES   OF   THE   QUEENS   OF   ENGLAND. 


i{ 


cannot  well  be  omitted  from  pages  professing  to  give,  however 
imperfectly,  as  in  the  present  case,  some  record  of  the  supposed 
writer's  life  :  no  one,  however,  will  readily  believe  that  a  girl  of 
thirteen  was  the  actual  author  of  such  a  document  as  the  following : 

"  May  it  please  your  Majesty 1  am  at  a  loss  whether  I  should 

congratulate  or  condole  with  you  on  your  late  victory  over  Marshal 
Daun,  Nov.  3,  17 GO,  since  the  same  success  which  has  covered 
you  with  laurels,  has  overspread  the  country  of  Mecklenburgh  with 
desolation.  I  know.  Sire,  that  it  seems  unbecoming  my  sex,  in 
this  age  of  vicious  refinement,  to  feel  for  one's  country,  to  lament 
the  horrors  of  war,  or  wish  for  the  return  of  jKiace.  I  know  you 
may  think  it  more  properly  my  province  to  study  the  arts  of  pleas- 
ing, or  to  inspect  subjects  of  a  more  domestic  nature ;  but,  however 
unbecoming  it  may  be  in  me,  I  cannot  resist  the  desire  of  interced- 
ing for  this  unhappy  people. 

"  It  was  but  a  very  few  years  ago  that  this  territory  wore  the 
most  pleasing  appearance ;  the  country  was  cultivated,  the  peasants 
looked  cheeiful,  and  the  towns  abounded  with  riches  and  festivity. 
What  an  alteration  at  present  from  such  a  charming  scene !  I 
am  not  expert  at  description,  nor  can  my  fancy  add  any  horrors  to 
the  picture ;  but,  sure,  even  conquerors  themselves  would  weep  at 
the  hideous  prospects  now  before  me.  The  whole  country,  my 
dear  country,  lies  one  frightful  waste,  presenting  only  objects  to 
excite  terror,  pity,  and  despair.  The  business  of  the  husbandman 
and  the  shephenl  are  quite  discontinued.  The  husbandman  and 
the  shepherd  are  become  soldiers  themselves,  and  help  to  ravage 
the  soil  they  formerly  culfkated.  The  towns  are  inhabited  only 
by  old  men,  old  women,  and  children ;  perhaps  here  and  there  a 
warrior,  by  wounds  or  loss  of  limbs,  rendered  unfit  for  service, 
left  at  his  door ;  his  little  children  hang  round  him,  ask  an  history 
of  every  wound,  and  grow  themselves  soldiers,  before  they  find 
strength  for  the  field.  But  this  were  nothing,  did  we  not  feel  the 
alternate  insolence  of  either  army  as  it  happens  to  advance  or  re- 
treat, in  pursuing  the  operations  of  the  campaign.  It  is  impossible 
to  express  the  confusion,  even  those  who  call  themselves  our 
friends  create ;  even  those  from  whom  we  might  expect  redress, 
oppress  with  new  calamities.     From  your  justice,  therefore,  it  is 


I 


\ 


CHARLOTTE   SOPHIA.  9 

we  hope  relief.  To  you  even  women  and  children  may  complain, 
whose  humanity  stoops  to  the  meanest  petition,  and  whose  power 
is  capable  of  repressing  the  greatest  injustice." 

The  very  reputation  of  having  written  this  letter  won  for  its 
supposed  author  the  crown  of  a  Queen  Consort.  The  members 
of  the  privy  council,  to  whom  the  royal  intention  was  first  commu- 
nicated, thought  it  almost  a  misalliance  for  a  King  of  Great  Britain, 
France,  and  Ireland,  to  wed  with  a  lady  of  such  poor  estate  as  the 
younger  daughter  of  a  very  poor  German  prince.  Had  they  been 
ethnologists,  they  might  have  augured  w.ell  of  an  union  between 
Saxon  King  and  Sclavonic  lady.  The  Sclave  blood  runs  pure  in 
Mecklenburgh. 

It  was  on  the  8th  of  July,  1761,  that  the  king  announced  to  his 
council,  in  due  and  ordinary  form,  that  having  nothing  so  much  at 
heart  as  the  welfare  and  happiness  of  his  people,  and  that  to  render 
the  same  stable  and  permanent  to  posterity,  being  the  first  object 
of  his  reign,  he  had,  ever  since  his  accession  to  the  throne,  turned 
his  thoughts  to  the  choice  of  a  princess  with  whom  he  might  find 
the  solace  of  matrimony,  and  the  comforts  of  domestic  HfeThe  had 
to  announce  to  them,  theretore,  with  great  satisfaction,  that  after 
the  most  mature  reflection  and  fullest  information,  he  had  come  to 
a  resolution  to  demand  in  marriage  the  Princess  Charlotte  of 
Mecklenburgh  Strelitz,  a  princess  distinguished  by  every  amiable 
virtue  and  elegant  endowment,    whose  illustrious  line  had   con- 
tinually shown  the  firmest  zeal  for  the  protestant  religion,  and  a 
particular  attachment  to  his  Majesty's  family.     Lord'llarcourt, 
who  had  been  fixed  upon  by  the  king  as  his  representative  com- 
missioned to  go  to  Strelitz,  and  ask  the  hand  of  the  Princess  Sophia 
Charlotte  in  marriage,  owed  his  appointment  and  his  subsequent 
nomination  as  miister  of  the  buckhounds  to  his  Majesty,  to  the 
circumstance  that  at  the  king's  accession  he  had  been  almost  the 
only  nobleman  who  had   not  solicited  some  favor  from  the  crown. 
lie  was  so  charmed  with  his  mission  that  everything  appeared  to 
him  couleur  de  rose,  and  not  only  was  he  enraptured  with  "  the 
most  amiable  young  princess  he  ever  saw,"  but,  as  he  adds  in  a 
letter  to  his  friend,  Mr.  Mitchel,  gratified  at  the  reception  he  had 
met  with  at  the  court  of  Strelitz,  appearing  as  he  did  "upon  such 

1* 


10 


LIVES   OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


an  errand,"  and  happy  to  find  that  "  the  great  honor  the  king  has 
done  this  family  is  seen  in  its  proper  hght."  The  business,  as  he 
remarks,  was  not  a  ditficult  one.  There  were  no  thorns  in  his 
rosy  path.  The  little  court,  he  tells  us,  exerted  its  utmost  abilities 
to  make  a  figure  suitable  for  this  occasion,  and  in  the  envoy's 
opinion,  they  acquitted  themselves  not  only  with  magnificence  and 
splendor,  but  with  great  taste  and  propriety.  His  testimony  touch- 
ing the  bride  runs  as  follows : — '*  Our  queen  that  is  to  be,  has  seen 
very  little  of  the  world ;  but  her  very  good  sense,  vivacity,  and 
cheerfulness,  I  dare  say,  will  recommend  her  to  the  king,  and 
make  her  the  darling  of  the  liritish  nation.  She  is  no  regular 
beauty,  but  she  is  of  a  very  pretty  size,  has  a  charming  complexion, 
very  pretty  cyes^  and  finely  made.  In  short,  she  is  a  very  fine 
girl." 

She  was  not,  however,  such  "a  very  fine  girl"  as  not  to  be 
startled  by  the  superior  beauty  of  the  two  principal  ladies  who 
were  sent  to  escort  her  to  London,  When  the  Princess  Charlotte 
of  Mecklenburgh  first  looked  upon  the  brilliant  Duchesses  of  An- 
caster  and  Hamilton,  she  could  not  help  exclaiming,  with  a  sen- 
timent apparently  of  self-humility,  "  Are  all  the  women  in  England 
as  beautiful  as  you  are?" 

The  treaty  of  marrioire  was  concluded  at  Strelitz  on  the  loth 
of  August,  the  Earl  of  Ilardwicke  acting  as  his  Majesty's  mhiister 
plenipotentiary.  With  the  noble  earl  were  (as  above  noticed)  the 
Duchesses  of  Ancaster  and  Hamilton,  two  such  beautiful  women,  as 
to  place  the  royal  bride  in  rather  unfavorable  contrast.  The 
convoying  fiee^  sent  to  conduct  the  princess  to  England,  was  com- 
manded by  the  great  Lord  Anson.  The  Tripoline  ambassador 
could  not  but  admire  the  honor  paid  by  his  Majestv  in  sending  so 
high  an  officer,  "  the  first  eunuch,"  as  the  Mahometan  called  him, 
to  escort  the  bride  to  her  new  home. 

When  the  man-iage  treaty  had  been  formally  concluded,  after 
some  delay  caused  by  the  death  of  the  mother  of  the  princess,  the 
little  city  of  Strelitz  became  briefly  mad  with  joy  and  exultation. 
There  were  illuminations,  balls,  fireworks,  and  artillery;  and  for 
two  days  stupendous  state-banquets  followed  each  other,  and  said 
much  for  the  digestion  of  those  who  enjoyed  them.     On  the  17th 


CUARLOTTE   SOPIIJA. 


11 


of  August  the  princess  left  Strelitz,  accompanied  by  her  brother 
the  Grand  Duke,  and  in  four  days  arrived  at  Stade  amid  demon- 
strations of  great  delight  on  the  part  of  the  population,  ever  grate- 
ful tor  an  excitement,  and  especially  so  for  one  afl^orded  them  by  a 
young  queen— as  the  bride  elect  wa^  already  considered.  On  the 
22nd  she  embarked  at  Cuxhaven  amid  a  salute  from  the  whole 
fleet.  For  more  than  a  week  she  was  as  disrespectfully  tossed  and 
tumbled  about  by  the  rough  sea,  over  which  her  path  lay,  as  the 
^ero  of  New  Zealand  buffeting  the  waves  to  meet  her  duskv 

The  royal  yacl.t  which  bore  the  youthful  bride,  was  surrounded 
by  the  squadron  forming  the  convoy;  and  across  as  boisterous  a 
sea  as  ever  tried  a  ship  or  perplexed  a  sailor,  the  bride  was  carried 
in  discomfort  but  safety,  till  on  the  evening  of  Sunday,  the  6th  of 
September,  the  fleet  and  its  precious  freight  arrived  off  Harwich 
It  was  Sunday  evening,  and  the  fact  was  not  known  in  London  till 
Monday  morning.     The  report  of  the  '■  Queen  "  having  been  seen 
oft  the  coast  of  Sussex  on  S-aturday,  was  current,  but  there  was 
gt-cat  uncertainty  a.s  to  where  she  was,  whether  she  had  landed  or 
when  she  would  be  in  town.     "  Last  nigh,,  at  ten  o'clock,"  says 
■V\a  pole  on  luesday  morning,  "it  was  neither  certain  where  she 
landed,  nor  when  she  would  be  in  town.     I  forgive  history  for 
knowu>g  nollung,  when  so  public  an  event  as  the  arrival  of  a  new 
queen  IS  a  .nystery  even  .at  this  very  moment  in  St.  James's  Street. 
lh,s  messenger  who  brought  the  letter  yesterday  morning,  said 
she  ,,rr„W  at  halt  an  hour  .after  four,  at  Harwich.     This  was  im- 
mediately  translated  into  landing,  and  notified  in  those  words  to 
he  ramtsters.     Six  hours  ..fterwanls  it  proved  no  such  thing,  and 
that  she  was  only  in  Harwich  Koad;  and  they  recollected  that 
halt  an  hour  after  four  happens  twice  in  twenty-four  hours,  and 
he  letter  did  not  specify  which  of  the  twices  it  was.     Well  the 
bridemaids  whipped  on  their  virginity;  the  New  IWd  and  the 
parks  were  thronged;  the  guns  were  choking  with  impatience  to 
go  off;  and  Sir  James  Lowthcr,  who  was  to  pledge  his  Majesty 
«;as  actually  married  to  Lady  Mary  Stuart.     Five,  six,  se«n' 
eight  o  clock  c.ime.  and  no  queen."  ' 

The  lady  so  impatiently  looked  for.  remained  on  board  the  vaoht 


12 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  EXGLAXD. 


throughout  the  Sunday  night.  Storm-tost  as  she  had  been,  she 
had  borne  the  voyage  well,  and  had  "  been  sick  but  half  an  hour, 
singing  and  playing  on  the  harpsichord  all  the  voyage,  and  been 
cheerful  the  whole  time." 

On  Monday  she  landed,  but  not  till  after  dinner,  and  then  was 
received  in  the  ancient  town  by  the  authorities,  and  with  all  the 
usual  ceremonies  which  it  is  the  curse  of  very  great  people  to  be 
fated  to  encounter.     Had  the  young  king  been  a  really  gallant 
monarch,  he  would  have  met  his  bride  on  the  seashore ;  but  eti- 
quette does  not  allow  of  sovereigns  being  gallant,  and  the  princess 
was  welcomed  by  no  higher  dignitary  than  a  mayor.    In  the  after- 
noon, she  journeyed  leisurely  on  to  Colchester,  where  .<he  was  en- 
tertained at  the  house  of  a  loyal  private  individual,  Mr.  Knew. 
Here  Captain  Birt  served  her  with  coffee,  and  Lieutenant  John 
Seaber  waited  on  her  with  tea ;  this  service  being  concluded,  an 
mhabitant  of  the  town  presented  her  with  a  box  of  candied  eringo 
root.     This  presentation  is  always  made,  it  would  seem,  to  royaUy 
when  the  latter  honors  Colchester  with  a  passing  visit.     The  old 
town  is,  or  was,  proud  of  its  peculiar  in-oduction,  "  candied  eringo 
root."     On  the  occasion  in  question,  the  presenter  learnedly  d*^- 
tailed  the  qualities  of  the  root;  and  the  young  princess  looked  as 
mterested  as  she  could,  while  she  was  told  that  the  erin-ium  was 
of  the  Pentandna  Diyynia  class,  that  it  had  general  and  partial 
corolla^,  and  that  its  root  was  attenuant  and  deobstruent,  and  was 
therefore  esteemed  a  good  hepatic,  uterine,  and  nephritic.     Its 
whole  vn-tue,  it  was  added,  consists  in  its  external  or  cortical  part. 
Ihere  was  a  good  opportunity  to  draw  a  comparison  between  the 
root  and  the  bride,  to  the  advantage  of  the  latter,  had  the  exhibitor 
been  so  mmded  ;_but  the  opportunity  was  allowed  to  pass,  and 
the  owner  of  the  eringo,  who  treated  the  princess,  like  Hotspur 
with' a  candy  deal  of  courtesy,"  failed  to  allude  to  the  fact  tha 
the  beauty  m  the  royal  features  was  surpassed  bv  the  virtue  in- 
dwelling  in  her  licart. 

The  royal  vUi.or  learned  all  that  could  well  be  told  her.  durin. 
her  br,et  stay  of  the  historical  incidents  connected  with  the  place" 
-one  of  winch  w^.  that  the  town  «ood  ont  for  Queen  Mar;  and 
Popery  agam.t  Lady  Jane  Oroy  and  Protcs.an.i  „,.  an  indd" 


CHARLOTTE  SOPHIA. 


13 


; 


not  likely  to  awake  an  esteem  for  the  locality  in  the  bosom  of  a 
lady  who  had  come  over  here  for  the  purpose  of  assisting  in  fur- 
thenng  the  Protestant  succession.     However  this  may  be,  havin.. 
taken  tea  and  coffee  from  the  hands  of  veteran  warriors,  and  can! 
died  enngo  from  Mr.  Green,  and  information  touching  the  visits 
of  Queen  Mary  and  Elizabeth  from  the  clergy  and  others,  the 
rnncess  Charlotte,  or  Queen  Charlotte,  as  she  was  already  called 
continued  her  journey,  and  by  gentle  stages  arrived  at  Lord  Aber- 
corn  s  house  at  Witham,  "  'twixt  the  gloaming  and  the  murk,"  at  a 
quarter  past  seven.     The  host  himself  was  "  most  tranquilly  in 
^wn ;"  and  the  mansion  was  described  as  "  the  palace  of  silence  " 
The  new  arrivals,  however,  sooir  raised  noise  enough  within  its 
walls ;  for  notwithstanding  the  dinner  before  landing,  some  refresh- 
ment  taken  at  Harwich,  and  the  tea,  coffee,  and  candied  eringo 
root  at  Colchester,  there  was  still  supper  to  be  provided  for  the 
tired  queen  and  her  escort.     The  first  course  of  the  supper  con- 
sisted  of  a  mixture  of  fowl  and  fish,  "  leverets,  partridges,  carrt  and 
soles,  brought  by  express  from  Colchester,  just  time  enou-h  for 
supper."     There  were  besides  many  made  dishes,  and  an  Tbund- 
ance  of  the  choicest  fruits  that  could  be  procured.     The  queen 
supped  in  public,  one  of  the  penalties  which  royalty  u«ed  to  pay 
to  the  people.     That  is,  she  sat  at  table  with  open  doors,  at  wllich 
aU  comers  were  allowed  to  congregate  to  witness  the  not  too  edify- 
ing spectacle  of  a  young  bride,  feeding.     This  exploit  was  accom- 
phshed  by  her  ^Majesty,  while  Lord  Harcourt  and  the  gallant  Lord 
Anson  stood  on  either  side  of  the  royal  chair,  and  to  the  satisfac 
tion  of  both  actress  and  spectators. 

The  queen  slept  that  night  at  Witham,  and  the  next  day  went 
slowly  and  satisfiedly  on  as  f^ir  as  ancient  Romford,  where  .he 
alighted  at  the  house  of  a  Mr.  Dalton,  a  wine-merchant.  In  this 
asylum  she  remained  about  an  hour,  until  the  arrival  of  the  royal 
servants  and  carriages  from  London  which  were  to  meet  her. 
The  servants  having  commenced  their  office  with  their  new  mis- 
tress, by  serving  her  with  coffee,  the  queen  entered  the  royal  ca^^- 
riage,  in  which  she  was  accompanied  by  the  Duchesses  of  Ancaster 
and  Hamilton.  As  it  is  stated  by  the  recorders  of  the  incidents 
of  that  day  that  he#  Majesty  was  attired  "entirely  in  the  English 


1 


14 


LIVES  OF  THE    QUEENS  OP  ENGLAND. 


taste,"  it  may  be  worth  adding,  to  show  what  that  taste  was,  that 
"  she  wore  a  fly-cap  with  rich  hice  hippets,  a  stomacher  ornamented 
with  diamonds,  and  a  gold  brocade  suit  of  clothes  with  a  white 
ground."    Thus  decked  out,  the  queen,  preceded  by  three  carriages 
contaming  ladies  from  Mecklenburgh  and  lords  from  St.  James's, 
was  conveyed  through  lines  of  people,  militia,  and  horse  and  foot 
guards  to  London.     She  entered  the  capital  by  the  suburb  of  Mile 
End,  which  for  dirt  and  misery  could  hardly  be  equalled  by  any- 
thmg  at  Mirow  and  Strelitz.    Having  passed  through  AVhitechapel, 
which  must  have  given  her  no  very  high  idea  of  the  civilization 
of  the  British  people,  she  j)assed  on  westward,  and  proceeding  by 
the  longest  route,  contmued  along  Oxford  Street  to  Ilyde  Park, 
and  finally  reached  the  garden-gate  of  St.  James's  at  three  in  the 
afternoon.     Before  she  left  Komford,  one  of  the  P:nglish  ladies  in 
attendimce  recommended  her  to  "curl  her  toupie;  she  said  she 
thought  it  looked  as  well  as  that  of  any  of  the  ladies  sent  to  fetch 
her  •  if  the  king  bid  her,  she  would  wear  a  perriwig;  otherwise, 
she  would  remain  as  she  was." 

The  travelling  bride  had  exhibited  much  self-possession  and 
gaiety  of  spirits  throughout  the  journey,  and  it  was  not  till  she 
came  in  sight  of  the  palace  that  her  courage  seemed  to  fail  her. 
llien,  for  the  first  time,  "  she  grew  frightened  and  grew  pale.  The 
Duchess  of  Hamilton  smiled  ;  the  princess  said,  *  My  dear  duchess, 
you  may  laugh,  you  have  been  married  twice ;  but  it's  no  joke  to 


CHARLOTTE  SOPHIA. 


15 


me. 


>  >» 


Walpole,  writing  at  '•  twenty  minutes  past  three  in  the  after- 
noon, not  in  the  middle  of  the  night,"  says,  '•  Madame  Charlotte 
is  this  instant  arrived ;  the  noise  of  the  coaches,  chaise,  horse- 
men, mob,  that  have  been  to  see  her  pass  through  the  parks,  is  so 
prodigious  that  I  cannot  distinguish  the  guns." 

AVhen  the  royal  can-iage  stopped  at  the  garden-gate,  the  bride's 
lij)s  trembled  and  she  looked  paler  than  ever,  but  she  stepped  out 
with  spirit,  assisted  by  the  Duke  of  Devonshire,  lord-chamberlain. 
As  she  advanced  into  the  garden  the  young  king  met  her,  when 
she  sunk  down  on  one  knee  to  pay  him  a  sort  of  homage,  but  the 
bridegroom  gently  raised  her,  saluted  her,  and  led  ]\Qr  into  the 
palace.  ^ 


Walpole  says  of  her,  that  she  looked  sensible,  cheerful,  and 
remarkably  genteel.     He  does  not  say  that  she  was  pretty,  and  it 
must  be  confessed  that  she  was  rather  plain ;  too  plain  to  create  a 
favorable  impression  upon  a  youthful  monarch  whose  heart,  even 
if  the    story  of  the  Quakeress  be  a  fiction,  was  certainly  pre- 
occupied by  the  image  of  a  lady  who,  nevertheless,  figured  that 
night   among    the    brjdemaids,— namely,   Lady   Sarah   Lennox. 
"An  involuntary  expression  of  the  king's  countenance,"  says  ]\Ir. 
Galt,^ "  revealed  what  was  passing  within,  but  it  was  a  passing 
cloud— the  generous  feelings  of  the  monarch  were  interested ;  and 
the  tenderness  with  which  he  thenceforward  treated  Queen  Char- 
lotte was  uninterrupted  until  the  moment  of  their  final  separation." 
This  probably  comes  much  nearer  to  the  truth  than  the  assertion  . 
of  Lady  Anne  Hamilton,  who  says,— "At  the   first  sight  of  the 
German  i)iincess,  the  king  actually  shrunk  from  her  gale,  for  her 
countenance  was  of  that  cast  that  too  plainly  told  of  the  nature  of 
the  spirit  working  within." 

The  king,  as  before  mentioned,  led  his  bride  into  the  palace, 
where  she  dined  with  him,  his  mother  the  Princess  Dowager,  and 
that  Princess  Augusta,  who  was  to  give  a  future  queen  "to  Eng- 
land, in  the  person  of  Caroline  of  Brunswick.  After  dinner,  when 
the  bridemaids  and  the  court  were  introduced  to  her,  she  said, 
*'Mon  Dieu,  il  y  en  a  tant,  il  y  en  a  tant!"  She  kissed  the' 
princesses  with  manifest  pleasure,  but  was  so  prettily  reluctant  to 
offer  her  own  hand  to  he  kissed,  that  the  Princess  Augusta,  for 
once,  doing  a  graceful  thing  gracefully,  was  forced  to  "take  her 
hand  and  give  it  to  those  who  were  to  kiss  it,  which  was  prettily 
humble  and  good. 

It  is  singular  that  although  the  question  touching  precedency, 
in  the  proper  position  of  Irish  peers  in  English  possessions,  had 
been  settled  in  the  reign  of  George  IL,  it  was  renewed  on  the 
occasion  of  the  marriage  of  Queen  Charlotte,  with  increased  vigor. 
The  question,  indeed,  now  rather  regarded  the  princesses  than  the 
peers.  The  Irish  ladies  of  that  rank  claimed  a  right  to  walk  in 
the  marriage  procession  immediately  after  English  peeresses  of 
their  own  degree.  The  impudent  wits  of  the  day  declared  that 
the  Irish  ladies  would  be  out  of  their  vocation  at  weddings,  and 


16 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEEXS    OF  ENGLAND. 


that  their  proper  place  was  at  funerals,  where  they  might  profes- 
sionally Jw^cl    The  rude  taunt  was  made  in  mere  thoughtlessness, 
but  it  stirred  the  high-spirited  Hibernian  ladies  to  action.     They 
deputed  Lord  Charlemont  to  proceed  to  the  court  of  St.  James's, 
and  not  only  prefer  but  establish  their  claim.     The  gallant  cham- 
pion of  dames  fultilled  his  office  with  alacrity,  and  crowned  it  with 
success.     The  royal   bride  herself  was   written  to,   but   she,  of 
course,  could  only  express  her  willingness  to  see  as  many  fair  and 
friendly  faces  about  her  as  possible ;  and  she  referred  the  appli- 
cants to  custom  and  the  lord-chamberiain.     The  reference  was 
not  favorable  to  the  claimants,  and  Lord  Charlemont  boldly  ^^^nt 
to  the  king  himself     The  good-natured  young  monarch  was  as 
.  warm  in  praise  of  Irish  beauty  as  if  he  was  about  to  marry  one,  but 
he  protested  that  he  had  no  authority,  and  that  Lord  Chariemont 
must  address  his  claim  to  the  Privy  Council.     When  that  august 
body  received  the  ladies'  advocate,  they  required  of  him  to^set 
down  his  specific   claim    in  writing,  so  that  the    heralds,   those 
leanied  and  useful  gentlemen,  might  comprehend  what  was  asked, 
and  do  solemn  justice  to  rank  and  precedency  on  this  exceedingly 
solemn  occasion.     Lord  Chariemont  knew  nothing  of  the  heralds' 
shibboleth,  but  he  found  a  friend  who  could  and  did  help  him,  in 
his  need,  in  Lord  Egmont.     By  the  two  a  paper  was  hurriedly 
drawn  up  in  proper  form,  and  submitted  to  the  council.     The 
collective  wisdom  of  the  latter  pronounced  the  claim  to  be  good 
and  that  L'ish  peeresses  might  walk  in  the  roval  marria-e  proces- 
sion mmiediately  after  English  peeresses  of  their  own  rank    if 
mvited  to  do  so.    The  verdict  was  not  worth  much,  but  it  satisLd 
the  clamiants.     If  the  whole  Irish  peerage,  the  female  portion  of 
It,  at  least  was  not  at  tlie  wedding,  it  was  fairly  represented,  and 
when  Lord  Chariemont  returned  to  Dublin,  the  ladies  welcomed 
hmi  as  cordially  as  the  nymphs  in  the  bridal  of  Triermain  did  the 
wandering  Arthur.     They  showered  on  him  tlowers  of  Gratitude 
and  their  dignity  was  well  content  to  feel  fissured  that  th'ey  mi^ht' 
all  have  gone  to  the  wedding  if  they  had  onlv  been  invited        " 

At  seven  o'clock,  the  nobility  began  to  flJck  down  to  the  scene 
of  the  marnage  in  the  royal  chapel.  The  night  was  sultry-,  but 
hne.     At  nme,  the  ceremonv  wa.  pertbnned  bv  the  Lord  Arch 


CHARLOTl^E  SOPHIA. 


17 


bishop  of  Canterbury,  and  perhaps  the  most  beautiful  portion  of 
the  spectacle  was  that  afforded  by  the  bride's  maids.  Among 
whom.  Lady  Sarah  Lennox,  Lady  Caroline  Russel,  and  Lady 
Elizabeth  Keppel,  were  distinguished  for  their  pre-eminent  attrac- 
tions. That  the  queen  could  not  have  been  so  perfectly  unpos- 
sessed of  attractive  features  as  some  writers  have  declared  her,  may 
be  gathered  from  a  remark  of  Walpole's,  who  was  present,  and 
who,  after  praising  the  beauty  of  the  bridemaids,  and  that  of  a 
couple  of  duchesses,  says,  ''  Except  a  pretty  Lady  Sunderland, 
and  a  most  perfect  beauty,  an  Irish  Miss  Smith,  I  don't  think  the 
queen  saw  much  else  to  discourage  her." 

All  the  royal  family  were  present  at  the  nuptials.  The  king's 
brother,  Edward,  Duke  of  York,  was  at  his  side,  and  this  alleged 
witness  of  the  king's  alleged  previous  marriage  with  Hannah 
Lightfoot,  says  Lady  Anne  Hamilton,  "  used  every  endeavor  to 
support  his  royal  brother  through  the  trying  ordealj  not  only  by 
first  meeting  the  princess  in  her  entrance  into  the  garden,  but  also 
at  the  altar." 

The  queen  was  in  white  and  silver.  "  An  endless  mantle  oi 
violet-colored  velvet,"  says  Walpole,  "lined  with  crimson,  and 
which,  attempted  to  be  fastened  on  her  shoulder  by  a  bunch  ot 
large  pearls,  dragged  itself  and  almost  the  rest  of  her  clothes  half- 
way down  her  waist." 

After  the  ceremony,  their  Majesties  occupied  two  state  chairs 
on  the  same  side  of  the  altar,  under  a  canopy.  The  mother  of  the 
monarch  occupied  a  similar  chair  of  state  on  the  opposite  side : 
the  other  members  of  the  royal  family  were  seated  on  stools,  while 
benches  were  given  to  the  foreign  ministers  to  rest  upon.  At 
half-past  ten  the  proceedings  came  to  a  close,  and  the  return  of 
the  marriage  procession  from  the  chapel  was  announced  by  thun- 
dering salutes  from  the  artillery  of  the  park  and  the  tower.  "  Can 
it  be  possible,"  said  the  humble  bride,  *'  that  I  am  worthy  of  such 
honors  ?  " 

Walpole  says  of  the  royal  bride,  that  she  did  nothing  but  with 
good-humor  and  cheerfulness.  "  She  talks  a  good,  deal,"  pays  the 
same  writer,  **  is  easy,  civil,  and  not  disconcerted."  While  the 
august  company  waited   for  supper,   she   sat   down,   sung,  and 


18 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


playecJ;    conversed  with    the    king,  Duke    of  Cumberland,  and 
Duke  of  York,  in  German  and   French.     She  was  reported  jo 
have  been  as  conversant  with  the  hitter  as  any  native,  but  Wal- 
pole  only  says  of  it  that  "  her  French  is  tolerable."     The  supper 
was  in  fact  a  banquet  of  great  splendor  and  corresponding  weari- 
ness.    "  They  did  not  get  to  bed  till  two ;"  by  which  time  the 
bride,  who  had  made  a  weary  journey  through  the  heat  and  dust, 
and  had  been  awake  since  the  dawn,  must  have  been  sadly  jaded. 
There  are  no  old-fashioned  nuptial  ceremonies  to  record  and  to 
smile  at.     "Walpole  alludes  to  a  civil  war  and  campaign  on  the 
question  of  the  bed-chamber.     "  Everybody  is  excluded  but  the 
minister ;  even  the  lords  of  the  bed-chamber,  cabinet  councillors, 
and  foreign  ministers ;  but  it  has  given  such  offence  that  I  don't 
know  whether  Lord  Huntingdon  must  not  be  the  scape-goat." 

On  the  9th  of  September,  the  queen  held  her  first  drawing-room. 
"Everybody  was  presented  to  her,  but  she  spoke  to  nobody"  as  she 
could  not  know  a  soul.  The  crowd  was  much  less  than  at  a  birth- 
day ;  the  magnificence  very  little  more.  The  king  looked  very 
handsome,  and  talked  to  her  with  great  good-humor.  It  does  not 
promise  as  if  these  two  would  be  the  two  most  unhappy  persons  in 
England  from  this  event." 

In  contrast  with  this  account  of  an  eye-witness  stands  the  depo- 
sition of  Lady  Anne  Hamilton,  a  passage  from  whose  suppressed 
book  may  be  cited  rather  tlian  credited.     It  reflects,  however,  much 
of  the  popular  opinions  of  that  and  a  far  later  period.     "  In  the 
mean  time,"  writes  the  lady  just  named,    -  the  Earl  of  Abercorn 
informed  the  princess  of  the  previous  marriage  of  the  kin-,  and  of 
the  existence  of  his  majesty's  wife;  and  Lord  Harcourt  advised  the 
pnncess  to  well  inform  herself  of  the  policv  of  the  kingdom,  as  a 
measure  for  preventing  much  future  disturbance  in  tlie  country,  as 
well  as  securing  an  uninterrupted  possession  of  the  throne  to  her 
issue.     Presuming  therefore  that  the  German  princess  had  hitherto 
been  an  open  and  ingenuous  character,  such   expositions,   intima- 
tions   and  dark  mysteries,  were  ill-calculated  to  nourish  honor- 
rble  feelings,  but  would  rather  operate  as  a  check  to  their  further 
existence.     To  the  public  eye  the  newly  married  pair  were  con- 
tented  with  each  other;   alas  I  it  was   because    each    feared  an 


CHARLOITE  SOPUIA. 


19 


exposure  to  the  nation.     The  king  reproached  himself  that  he  had 
not  fearlessly  avowed  the  only  wife  of  his  affections ;  the  queen, 
because  she  feared  an  explanation  that  the  king  was  guilty  of 
%a;«y,  and  thereby  her  claim,  as  also  that  of  her  progeny  (if  she 
should  have  any),  would  be  known  to  be  illegitimate.     It  appears 
as  if  the  resuU  of  those  reflections  formed  a  basis  for  the  misery- of 
millions,  and  added  to  that  number  millions  yet  unboni." 
^  This  probably  is  solemn  nonsense,  as  it  is  certainly  indifferent 
English.     We  get  back  to  comic  truth  at  least  in  an  anecdote  told 
by  Cumberland,  of  Bubb  Dodington,   who,  "  when  he  paid  his 
€0urt  at  St.  James's  to  her  majesty  upon  her  nuptials,  approached 
to  kiss  her  hand,  decked  in  an  embroidered  suit  of  silk,  with  lilac 
waistcoat  and  breeches,  the  latter  of  which,  in  the  act  of  kneehng 
down,  forgot  their  duty,  and  broke  loose  from  their  moorings  in  a 
verj'  indecorous  and  uncourtly  manner." 

Between  the  wedding  drawing-room  and  the  coronation,  the  king 
and  queen  ai)peared  twice  in  public,  once  at  their  devotions,  aud 
once  at  the  play.     On  both  occasions  there  were  crowds  of  follow- 
-ers  and  some  disappointment.     At  the  Chapel  Royal,  the  preacher, 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Schultz,  made   no  allusion  to  the  august  couple,  but 
simply  confined  himself  to  a  practical  illustration  of  his  text,  "Pro- 
vide things  honest  in  the  sight  of  all  men."     It  was  a  text  from 
the  application  of  which  a  young  sovereign  couple  might  learn 
much  that  was  valuable,  without  being  preached  at.      But  the 
crowd  who  went  to  stare  and  not  to  pray,  would  have  been  better 
pleased  to  have  heard  them  lectured,  and  to  have  seen  how  they 
looked  under  the  infliction.     The  king  had  expressly  forbidden  all 
laudation  of  himself  from  the  pulpit,  but  the  Rev.  Dr.  Wilson,  and 
Mason,  the  poet,  disobeyed  the  injunction,  and,  getting  nothing  by 
tlieir  praise,  joined  the  patriotic  side  in  politics  immediatelv.     At 
the  play,  to  which  the  king  and  queen  went  on  the  day,  after  at- 
tending church,  to  witness   Garrick,  who  was  advertised  to  plav 
"  Bayes"  in  the  "  Rehearsal,"  the  king  was  in  roars  of  laughter  at 
Garrick's  comic  acting;  which  even  made   the   queen  smile,  to 
whom,  however,  such  a  play  as  the  "  Rehearsal,"  and  such  a  part 
as  Bayes,  must  have  been  totally  incomprehensible,  and  defying 
explanation.     There  was  no  royal  slate  displayed  on  this  occasion, 


20 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


but  there  were  the  penalties  Avliieh  are  sometimes  paid  by  a  too 
eager  curiosity.  The  way  from  tlie  pahice  to  the  theatre  was  so 
beset  by  a  violently  loyal  mob,  that  there  was  ditiiculty  in  getting 
the  royal  chairs  through  the  unwelcome  pressure.  The  accidents 
were  many,  and  some  were  fatal.  The  young  married  couple  did 
not  accomplish  their  first  party  of  pleasure,  shared  with  the  public, 
but  at  the  expense  of  three  or  four  lives  of  persons  trampled  to 
death  among  the  crowd,  that  had  assembled  to  view  their  portion 
of  the  sight. 

The  St.  James's  Chronicle  thus  reports  the  scene  which  took 
place  on  the  occasion  of  the  royal  visit  to  Drur\'  Lane,  on  Friday, 
September  11th.  "Last  night  about  a  quarter  after  six,  their 
majesties  the  king  and  queen,  with  most  of  the  royal  family,  went 
to  Drury  Lane  play-house  to  see  the  Rehearsal.  Their  majesties 
went  in  chairs,  and  the  rest  of  the  royal  family  in  coaches,  attended 
by  the  Horse  Guards.  His  majesty  was  preceded  by  the  Duke  of 
Devonshire,  his  lord-chamberlain,  and  the  Honorable  Mr.  Finch, 
his  vice-chamberlain  ;  and  her  majesty  was  preceded  by  the  Duke 
of  Manchester,  her  lord-chamberlain,  and  Lord  Cantalupe,  her 
vice-chamberlain,  the  Earl  of  Ilarcourt,  her  master  of  the  horse ; 
and  by  the  Duchess  of  Ancaster  and  the  Countess  of  Eliin£rham. 
It  is  almost  inconceivable,  the  crowds  of  people  that  waited  in  the 
streets,  quite  from  St.  James's  to  the  play-house,  to  see  their  ma- 
jesties. Ne\  er  was  seen  so  brilliant  a  train,  the  ladies  being  mostly 
dressed  in  the  clothes  and  jewels  they  wore  at  the  roval  marria^-e. 
The  house  was  quite  full  before  the  doors  were  open ;  so  that  out 
of  the  vast  multitude  that  wahed  the  opening  of  the  doors,  not  a 
hundred  got  in  ;  the  house  being  previously  filled,  to  the  great  dis- 
appointment and  fatigue  of  many  thousands,  and  we  may  venture 
to  say  that  there  were  people  enough  to  have  filled  fifty  such  houses. 
There  was  a  prodigious  deal  of  mischief  done  at  the  doors  of  the 
house ;  several  genteel  women  who  were  imprudent  enough  to  at- 
tempt to  get  in,  had  their  clothes,  caps,  aprons,  handkerchiefs,  all 
torn  off  them.  It  is  said  a  girl  was  killed,  and  a  man  so 
trampled  on  that  there  are  no  hopes  of  his  recovery." 

Among  the  congratulatory  addresses  presented  to  the  queen,  on 
the  occasion  of  her  marriage,  there  was  none  which  caused  so  much 


CHARLOTTE  SOPHIA. 


21 


remark  as  that  presented  by  the  ladies  of  St.  Alban's.  They  com- 
plained that  ctistojn  had  deprived  them  of  the  pleasure  of  joining  in 
the  address  presented  by  the  gentlemen  of  the  borough,  and  that 
they  were  therefore  compelled  to  act  independently.  They  profited 
by  the  occasion  to  express  a  hope  that  the  example  set  by  the  king 
and  queen  would  be  speedily  and  widely  followed.  The  holy  state 
of  matrimony,  the  St.  Alban's  ladies  assured  her  majesty,  had 
fallen  so  low  as  to  be  sneered  at  and  disregarded  by  the  gentlemen. 
They  further  declared  that  if  the  best  riches  of  a  nation  consisted 
in  the  amount  of  population,  they  were  the  best  citizens  who  did 
their  utmost  to  increase  that  amount :  to  further  which  end  the 
ladies  of  St.  Alban's  expressed  a  loyal  degree  of  willingness,  with 
sundry  logical  reasonings  which  made  even  the  grave  Charlotte 
smile. 

It  is  unnecessary  perhaps  to  enter  detailedly  upon  the  programme 
of  the  royal  coronation.  All  coronations  very  much  resemble  each 
other;  they  only  vary  in  some  of  their  incidents.  That  of  George 
and  Charlotte  had  well-nigh  been  delayed  by  the  sudden  and  un- 
expected strike  of  the  workmen  at  Westminster  Hall.  These 
handicraftsmen  had  been  accustomed  to  take  toll  of  the  public  ad- 
mitted to  see  the  preparations,  but  soldiers  on  guard  perceivino- 
the  profit  to  be  derived  from  such  a  course,  allowed  no  one  to  enter 
at  all  but  after  payment  of  an  admission  fee  sufficiently  large  to 
gratify  their  cupidity.  The  plunderers  of  the  public  thereupon 
fell  out,  and  the  workmen  struck  because  they  had  been  deprived 
of  an  opportunity  of  robbing  curious  citizens.  The  dispute  was 
settled  by  a  compromise ;  an  increase  of  wages  was  made  to  the 
workmen,  and  the  military  continued  to  levy  with  great  success 
upon  the  purses  of  civilians,  as  before. 

Tjiere  was  nothmg  further  to  impede  the  completion  of  the 
preparations  for  the  spectacle  ;  but  by  another  strike  a  portion,  at 
least,  of  the  public  ran  the  risk  of  not  seeing  the  spectacle  at  all. 
The  chairmen  and  drivers  of  hired  vehicles  had  talked  so  largely 
of  their  scale  of  prices  for  the  Coronation  Day,  that  the  authorities 
threatened  to  interfere  and  establish  a  tariff;  whereupon  the  chair- 
men and  their  brethren  solemnly  announced  that  not  a  hired 
vehicle  of  any  description  should  ply  in  the  streets  at  all  on  the  day 


22 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


in  question ;  and  that  if  there  were  a  sight  worth  seeing,  the  full- 
dressed  public  might  get  to  it  how  they  could  ;  they  should  not  ride 
to  it.  Thereupon,  great  was  the  despair  of  a  very  large  and 
interested  class.  Appeals,  almost  affectionate  in  expression,  were 
made  to  the  offended  chairmen  who  led  the  revolt,  and  they  were 
entreated  to  trust  to  the  generous  feeluigs  of  their  patrons,  willing 
to  be  their  very  humble  servants,  for  one  day.  The  amiable  crea- 
tures at  last  yielded,  when  it  was  peifectly  understood  that  the 
liberal  sentiment  of  riders  was  to  be  computed  at  the  rate  of  a 
guinea  for  a  ride  from  the  west-end  to  the  point  nearest  the  Abbey, 
which  the  chairmen  could  reach.  Not  many  could  penetrate  be- 
yond Charing  Cross,  where  the  bewildered  fares  were  set  down 
amid  the  mob  and  the  mud,  to  work  their  way  through  both,  as 
best  they  might. 

There  was  only  one  class  of  extortionate  robbers  who  succeeded 
in  making  unwarrantable  gain  Avithout  interference  on  the  part  of 
the  authorities,  or  appeal  on  that  of  the  public.  Tlie  class  in 
question  consisted  of  the  Dean  and  Chapter  of  Westminster,  who 
exacted  five  guineas  a  foot  as  the  rent  or  hire  of  the  space  for  the 
erection  of  scaffolding  for  seats.  Tliis  cau.-ed  the  tariff  of  places 
to  be  of  so  costly  a  nature,  that,  willing  as  the  public  were  to  pay 
liberally  for  a  great  show,  the  seats  were  but  scantily  occupied. 

The  popular  eagerness,  which  existed  especially  to  see  the 
young  queen,  was  well  illustrated  in  the  person  of  a  married  lady, 
for  whom  not  only  was  a  front  room  taken,  from  the  window  of 
which  she  might  see  the  procession  pass,  but  a  bedroom  also 
enj^«g^'^^»  and  a  medical  man  in  attendance ;  the  lady's  condition 
of  health  rendering  it  probable  that  both  might  be  required  before 
the  spectacle  had  concluded. 

Much  had  been  said  of  the  queen's  beauty,  but  to  that  her 
majesty  had  really  little  pretension.  The  public  near  enough  to 
distinguish  her  features,  were  the  more  disappointed,  from  the  fact 
that  the  portrait  of  a  very  pretty  wommi  had  been  in  all  the  print- 
shops,  as  a  likeness  of  the  young  queen.  The  publisher,  however, 
had  in  some  sort  pertbrmed  a  trick  similar  to  that  of  the  .>howman 
of  wax-figures,  who,  when  he  had  to  exhibit  his  wonders  to  board- 
ing-school ladies,  used  to  take  the  paint  oti"  the  face  of  the  elowu, 


CHARLOTTE  SOPHIA. 


23 


put  a  cap  on  its  head,  and  call  the  figure,  Mrs.  Hannah  More.  In 
the  case  of  the  first  published  portrait  of  Queen  Charlotte  the 
pnntseller  had  selected  an  old  engraving  of  a  young  beauty'  and 
erasmg  the  name  on  the  plate,  issued  the  portrait  as  that  of  the 
royal  consort  of  his  Majesty  George  IIL  Many  were  indignant 
at  the  trick,  but  few  were  more  amused  by  it  than  her  majesty 
herself.  *'     -^ 

As  illustrative  of  the  crowds  assembled,  even  on  places  whence 
but  little  could  be  seen,  it  may  be  memioned  that  the  assembla-e 
on  AVestmmster  Bridge,  which  was  no  "coign  of  vanta-e,"  for  the 
platform  on  which  the  procession  passed  coukl  hardly  be'discovered 
from  It,  was  so  immense  as  to  give  rise  to  a  report,  which  Ion- 
prevailed,  that  the  structure  of  the  bridge  itself  had  been  injured 
by  this  sui)erincumbent  dead  wei^^Iit. 

The  multitude  was  enthusiastic  enough,  but  it  was  not  a  kindly- 
endowed  multitude.  The  mob  was  ferocious  in  its  joys  even  in 
those  days.  Of  the  lives  lost,  one  at  least  was  so  lost  by  a  mur- 
derous act  of  the  populace.  A  respectiible  man  in  the  thron- 
dropped  some  papers,  and  he  stooped  to  recover  them  from  the 
ground.  The  contemporary  recorders  of  the  events  of  the  day 
detail,  without  comment,  how  the  mob  held  this  unfortunate  man 
forcibly  down  till  they  had  trampled  him  to  death  !  Tlie  people 
must  have  their  little  amusements. 

It  was,  perhai>s,  hardly  the  fault  of  the  people  that  these  amuse- 
ments were  so  savage  in  character.     The  peo})le  themselves  were 
treated  as  savages.     Even  on  this  day  of  universal  jubilee  they 
were  treated  as  if  the  great  occasion  were  foreign  to  them  and  to 
their  feelings ;  and  a  press-gang,  strong  enough  to  defy  attack,  was 
not  the  least  remarkable  group  which  ai>peared  this  day  amon-  the 
free  Britons  over  whom  George  and  Chariotte  expressed  them- 
selves  proud  to  reign.     Such  a  "  gang"  did  not  do  its  work  in  a 
delicate  way,  and  a  score  or  two  of  loyal  and  tipsy  people  who  had 
joyously  left  their  homes  to  make  a  day  of  it,  found  themselves  at 
night,  battered  and  bleeding,  on  board  a  "  Tender,"  torn  from  their 
families,  and  condemned  to  "serve  the  king,"  upon  the  hic^h  seas 
Such  incidents  as  these  were  going  on  while  the  crowns  were 
being  made  to  rest  upon  the  brows  of  the  monarch  and  his  contort 


24 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


Such  incidents  were  of  course  unknown  to  them.     Queen  Charlotte, 
doubtless,  no  more  thought,  amid  the  splendor  of  the  scene  of  which 
ehe  was  the  heroine,  that  death  and  oppression  were  dedmg  with 
the  lie-es  without,  than  she  did  on  board  the  -  Caroline  "  yacht 
which  brought  her  to  Harwich,  of  a  sailor  perishing  in  the  waves, 
while  she  continued  to  sing  on  at  her  harpsichord.     The  lalse 
delicacy  of  those  around  her  would  not  allow  them  to  interrupt  the 
song  of  a  princess,  by  shocking  her  with  the  cry  of  "A  man  over- 
board."    That  man  perished,  and  the  young  queen  knew  nothing 
of  the  sad  event  until  she  had  set  foot  upon  English  ground.     It 
was  the  first  piece  of  intelligence  communicated  to  her,  on  reaching 
England,  where  it  might  very  well  have  been  spared  her.     We 
express  a  species  of  horror  at  the  idea  of  murder  going  on  in  the 
streets,  while  the  Conqueror  was  being  crowned  in  the  cathedral ; 
but,  though  less  intense  in  degree,  and  with  no  political  hostility 
to  direct  it,  the  scene  in  London  while  Charlotte  and  the  king 
were  being  solemnly  crowned,  was  not  without  its  horrors  too. 
That  unhappy  man  purposely  trampled  to  death,  and  that  press- 
gang  making  captives  of  men  who  thought  themselves  free,  arc 
facts  only  less  intense  in  degree— they  are  not  so  wide  apart  in 

quality. 

In  the  mean  time,  the  interior  of  the  Abbey  displayed,  so  says 

the  St.  James's  Chronicle,  the  finest  exhibition  of  genteel  people 

that  tlie  world  ever  saw.     That  was  satisfactory.     The  Countess 

of  Northampton  carried  three  hundred  thousand  pounds  worth  of 

diamonds  upon  her,  and  other  ladies  dropped  rubies  and  other 

precious  stones  from  their  dresses,  in  quantity  sufficient  to  have 

made  the  fortune  of  any  single  tinder.     The  day,  too,  did  not  pass 

without  its  ominous  aspect.     As  the  king  was  moving  with  the 

crown  on  his  head,  the  great  diamond  in  the  upper  portion  of  it 

fell  to  the  ground,  and  was  not  found  again  without  some  trouble. 

If  the  spectators  had  known  then  as  much  of  the  events  of  the 

king's  reign,  as  we  know  now,  they  would,  doubtless,  have  not  been 

at  fault  how  to  interpret  the  sign.     The  diamond  which  fell  would 

have  passed  for  the  jewel  of  America,  which  dropped  from  the 

chaplet  of  our  possessions ;  compensated  for,  indeed,  by  the  gem 

of  India,  which  Clive  might  then  be  said  to  have  been  chief  in 


ClIAKLOTTE   SOPHIA. 


25 


placing  upon  the  somewhat  damaged  but  still  brilliant  diadem  of 
Enjyland. 

IVi-haps  the  prettiest,  though  not  the  most  gorgeous  i)ortion  of 
the  show,  was  the  procession  of  the  Princess  Dowager  of  Wales, 
from  the  House  of  Lords  to  the  Abbey.  The  king's  mother  was 
led  by  the  hand  of  her  young  son,  William  Henry.  These  and 
all  the  other  persons  in  this  picturesque  group,  were  attired  in 
dresses  of  white  and  silver ;  and  the  spectators  had  the  good  sense 
to  admire  the  corresponding  good  taste.  The  princess  wore  a 
short  silk  train,  and  was  consequently  relieved  from  the  nuisance 
of  being  pulled  back  by  train-bearers.  Her  long  hair  flowed  over 
lier  shoulders  in  hanging  curls,  and  the  only  ornament  upon  her 
head  was  a  simple  wreath  of  diamonds.  She  was  the  best  dressed 
and  perhaps  not  the  least  happy  of  the  persons  present.  Certainly 
not  the  less  happy  that  she  was  not  a  queen. 

The  usual  ceremonies  followed.  The  AVeslminster  boys  sang 
*'  Vivat  liegina^'  on  the  entry  of  the  queen  into  the  Abbey,  and 
"  Vivat  Rex^'  as  soon  as  the  king  ai)peared.  The  illustrious  couple 
engaged  for  a  time  in  private  devotions,  were  presented  to  the 
people,  and  the  divine  blessing  having  been  invoked  upon  them, 
they  sat  to  hear  a  sermon  of  just  a  quarter  of  an  hour  in  length, 
from  Drummond,  Bishop  of  Salisbury.  The  text  was  sermon  hi 
itself.  It  was  from  1  Kings,  x.  9 :  -  Because  the  Lord  loved 
Israel  forever,  therefore  made  he  thee  king,  to  do  judgment  and 
justice:'  The  episeoi)al  comment  was  not  a  bad  one ;  but  when 
the  prelate  talked,  as  he  did,  of  our  constitution  being  founded 
upon  the  princii)les  of  purity  and  freedom,  and  justly  poised  be- 
tween the  extremes  of  power  and  liberty,  his  sentiment,  I  think, 
was  but  poorly  illustrated  by  the  presence  of  that  press-gang  with- 
out, with  whom  was  much  power  over  a  people  who,  in  such  a 
presence,  enjoyed  no  liberty. 

Seeker,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  placed  the  crowns  on  the 

heads  of  the  sovereigns,  and  did  not  get  kissed  in  return,  as  was 

formerly  the  custom,  at  least  on  the  part  of  a  newly-crowned  king. 

But  perhaps  the  prettiest  incident  took  place  when   the  king  was 

about  to  partake,  with  the  queen,  of  the  Sacrament.     He  desired 

that  he  might  first  put  aside  his  crown,  and  appear  humbly  at  the 
Vol.  II. — 2 


26 


LIVES   OF  THE   QUEENS   OF   ENGLAND. 


CHARLO'lTE   SOPHIA. 


27 


table  of  the  Lonl.  Tlicre  was  no  precedent  for  such  a  case,  and 
all  the  prelates  present  were  somewhat  puzzled,  lest  they  might 
eommit  themselves.  Ultimately,  and  wisely,  they  expressed  an 
opinion  that,  despite  the  lack  of  authorizing  precedent,  the  king's 
wishes  might  be  complied  with.  A  similar  wish  was  expressed 
by  Queen  Charlotte;  but  this  could  not  so  readily  be  fulfilled. 
It  was  found  that  the  little  crown  fixed  on  the  queen's  head  was 
so  fastened,  to  keep  it  from  ftilling,  that  there  would  be  some 
trouble  in  getting  it  off  without  the  assistance  of  the  (lueen's 
dressers.  This  was  dispensed  with,  and  the  crown  was  worn  by 
the  queen ;  but  the  king  declared,  that  in  this  case  it  was  to  be 
considered  simply  as  part  of  her  dress,  and  not  as  indicating  any 
power  or  greatness  residing  in  a  person  humbly  kneeling  in  the 
presence  of  God. 

The  remainder  of  the  ceremonial  was  long  and  tedious,  and  it 
was  quite  dusk  before  the  procession  returned  to  the  hall.  In  the 
mean  time,  the  cliam[)ion's  horse  was  champing  his  bit  with  great 
impatience,  as  became  a  horse  of  his  dignity.  This  gallant  gray 
charger  was  no  other  than  that  which  bore  the  sacred  majesty  of 
George  II.  through  the  dangers  of  the  great  and  bloody  day  at 
Dettingen.  The  veteran  steed  was  now  to  be  the  leader  in  the 
equestrian  spectacle  at  the  banquet  of  that  monarch's  successor. 

It  is  the  characteristic  of  all  English  solemnities  that  they 
should  be  celebrated,  like  "  0[)lK*lia's"  funeral,  with  "maimed 
rites."  AVhi'thor  we  crown  monarchs  or  make  war,  we  are  never 
ready;  in  the  one  case,  want  of  preparation  makes  fools  of  those 
most  concerned  in  the  show ;  in  tlif  other,  it  -starves  and  slavs 
them.  Although  there  was  ample  time  for  the  completion  of 
everything  necessary  to  the  coronation  of  George  and  Cluirlotte, 
the  earl-nuushal  forgot  some  veiy  indispensable  items;  amon«' 
others,  the  sword  of  state,  the  state-banquet  clialrs  for  the  king 
and  queen,  and  the  canopy.  It  was  lucky  that  the  crown  had  not 
been  forgotten,  too.  As  it  was,  they  had  to  borrow  the  ceremonial 
Fword  of  the  Lord  Mayor,  and  workmen  built  a  canopy  amid  the 
scenic  splendors  of  Westminster  Hall.  These  mistakes  delayed 
the  procession  till  noon. 

It  was  dark  when  the  procession  returned  to  the  hall ;  and  as 


% 
/ 


the  illuminating  of  the  latter  was  deferred  till  the  king  and  queen 
had  taken  their  places,  the  cortege  had  very  much  the  appearance 
of  a  funeral  procession,  nothing  being  discernible  but  the  plumes 
of  the  Knights  of  the  Bath,  which  seemed  the  hearse.  There 
were  less  dignified  incidents  than  these  in  the  course  of  the  day's 
proceedings ;  the  least  dignified,  was  an  awkward  rencounter  be- 
tween the  queen  herself  and  the  Duke  of  Newcastle,  behind  the 
scenes.  Walpole  says  that  "  some  of  the  procession  were  dressed 
over  night,  slept  in  arm-chairs,  and  were  waked  if  they  tumbled 
on  their  heads."  Noticing  some  of  the  ladies  present,  the  same 
writer  adds : — "  I  carried  my  Lady  Townshend^  Lady  Hertford, 
Lady  Anne  Conolly,  my  Lady  Ilerrey,  and  Mrs.  Clive,  to  my 
deputy's  house  at  the  gate  of  Westminster  Hall.  My  Lady 
Townshend  said  she  should  be  very  glad  to  see  a  coronation,  as 
she  never  had  seen  one.  *  Why,'  said  I,  '  madam,  you  walked  at 
the  last.'  *  Yes,  child,'  said  she,  'but  I  saw  nothing  of  it.  I  only 
looked  to  sec  who  looked  at  me.'  The  Duchess  of  Queensberry 
walked ;  her  affectation  that  day  was  to  do  nothing  preposterous. 
Lord  Chestei*field  was  not  present  either  in  Abbey  or  Hall ;  for, 
as  he  said  of  the  ceremony,  he  was  '  not  alive  enough  to  march, 
nor  dead  enough  to  walk  at  it.' " 

The  scene  in  the  banqueting  hall  is  further  described  by  Wal- 
pole in  a  subsequent  letter ;  and  to  his  lively  pages  we  once  more 
have  recourse  :  "  All  the  wines  of  Bordeaux,"  he  writes  to  Georsre 
^lontagu,  '*  and  all  the  fumes  of  Irish  brains  cannot  make  a  town 
so  drunk  as  a  roval  weddinj;  and  a  coronation.  I  am  eroinjj  to  let 
London  cool,  and  will  not  venture  into  it  again  this  fortnight.  Oh, 
the  buzz,  the  prattle,  the  crowds,  the  noise,  the  hurry!  Nay, 
people  are  so  little  come  to  their  senses  that,  though  the  corona- 
tion was  but  the  day  before  yesterday,  the  Duke  of  Devonshire 
had  forty  messages  yesterday,  desiring  admissions  for  a  ball  that 
they  fancied  was  to  be  at  court  last  night.  People  had  set  up  a 
night  and  a  day,  and  yet  wanted  to  see  a  dance !  If  I  was  to 
entitle  ages,  I  would  call  this  '  the  century  of  crowds.^  For  the 
coronation,  if  a  puppet  show  could  be  worth  a  million,  that  is.  The 
nniltitudes,  balconies,  guards  and  processions,  made  Palace  Yard 
the  liveliest  soectacle  in  the  world :  the  ball  was  most  glorious. 


2S 


LIVES   OF  1IIE   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


The  blaze  of  lights,  the  richness  and  variety  of  habits,  the  cere- 
monial, the  bunches  of  peers  and  peeresses,  frequent  and  full,  were 
as  awful  as  a  pageant  can  be ;  and  yet,  for  the  king's  sake  and 
my  own,  I  never  wish  to  see  another;  nor  am  impatient  to  have 
my  Lord  Efnnghani's  promise  fulfilled.      The   king  complained 
that  so  few  precedents  were  kept  of  their  proceedings.     Lord 
Effingham   vowed   the  earl-marshal's    office   had   been   strangely 
neglected,  but   he  had  taken   such  care  for  the  future   that  the 
nejct  coronation  would  be   regulated   in  the  most  exact  manner 
imaginable.     The  number  of  peers  and  peeresses  present  was  not 
very  great ;  some   of  the   latter,  with   no  excuse  in    the  world, 
appeared  in  Lord  Lincoln's  gallery,  and  even   walked  about  the 
hall  indecently  in  the  intervals  of  the  procession.     iMy  Lady  Har- 
rington, covered  with  all  the  diamonds  she  could  borrow,  hire,  or 
seize,  and  with   the   air   of  Koxana,  was  the  finest  figure  at  a 
distance.     She  complained  to  George  Selwyn   that  she  was  to 
walk  with  Lady  Portsmouth,  who  would  have  a  wig  and  a  stick. 
'  Pho!'   said  he,  *you  will  only  look  as  if  you  were  taken  \\\^  by 
the  constable.'     She  told  this  everywhere,  thinking  that  the  reflec- 
tion  was  on  my  Lady  Portsmouth  I     Lady  Pembroke  alone,  at  the 
head  of  the  countesses,  was  the  i)icture  of  majestic  modesty.     The 
Duchess  of  Richmond  as  pretty  as  nature  and  dress,  with  no  ])ain3 
of  her  own,  could  make  her.     Lady  Spencer,  Ladv  Sutherland, 
and  Lady  Northampton,  very  pretty  figures.     Lady'lvildare,  still 
beauty  itself,  if  not  a  little  too  large..    The  ancient  peeresses  were 
by  no  means  the  wor>t   party.     Lady  Westmoreland  still  hand- 
some, and  with  more  dignity  than  all.     The  Duchess  of  Queens- 
berry  looked  well,  though  her  locks  milk-white.     Lady  Albemarle 
very  genteel ;  nay,  the  middle  age  had  some  good  representatives 
m  Lady  Holdernesse,  Lady  Kochtbrd,  and  Lady  Strafrbrd,  the 
perfectest  Imle  figure  of  all.    Isly  Lady  Suf^blk  orcK-red  her  robe, 
and  I  dressed  j.art  of  her  head,  as  I   made  some  of  my  Lord 
Hertford  s  dress,  for  you  know  no  profession  comes  amiss  to  me 
from  a  tnbune  of  the  people  to  a  habit-maker.     Do  not  imagine' 
that   here  were  not  figures  as  excellent  on   the  other  side.     Old 

^aw ,    old  Lffingham,  and  Lady  Say  and  Sele,  with   her  hair 


CHARLOTTE  SOPHIA. 


29 


powdered  and  her  tresses  black,  were  an  excellent  contrast  to  the 
handsome.  Lord  15.  put  on  rouge  upon  his  wife  and  the  Duchess 
of  Bedford  in  the  Painted  Chamber ;  the  Ducliess  of  Queensberry 
told  me  of  the  latter,  that  slie  looked  like  an  orange  peach,  half 
red  and  half  yellow.  The  coix)nets  of  the  peers  and  their  robes 
disguised  them  strangely.  It  required  all  the  beauty  of  the  Dukes 
of  Kicbmond  and  ^larlboi'ough  to  make  them  noticed.  One  there 
was,  though  of  another  species,  the  noblest  figure  I  ever  saw,  the 
high  constable  of  Scotland,  Lord  Errol :  as  one  saw  him  in  a 
space  ca})able  of  containing  him,  one  admired  him.  At  the  wed- 
ding, dressed  in  tissue,  he  looked  like  one  of  the  giants  at  Guild- 
hall, new  gilt.  It  added  to  the  energy  of  his  person  that  one 
considered  him  as  acting  so  considerable  a  part  in  that  very  hall 
wiiere,  a  few  years  ago,  one  saw  his  father.  Lord  Kilmarnock, 
condemned  to  the  block.  The  champion  acted  his  part  admirably, 
and  dashed  down  his  gauntlet  with  ])roud  defiance.  His  associates, 
Lord  EtVuigham,  Lord  Talbot,  and  the  Duke  of  Bedford,  were 
woful.  Lord  Talbot  piipied  himself  on  backing  his  horse  down 
the  hall,  and  not  turning  its  rump  towards  the  king ;  but  he  had 
taken  such  pains  to  dress  it  to  that  duty  that  it  entered  backwards; 
and,  at  his  retreat,  the  spectators  clajiped — a  terrible  indecorum, 
but  suitable  to  such  Bartholomew  Fair  doings.  He  had  twenty 
dtrti'lis,  and  came  off  none  creditably.  He  had  taken  awav  the 
table  of  the  Knights  of  the  Bath,  and  M'as  forced  to  admit  two  in 
their  old  place,  and  dine  the  other  in  the  Court  of  Requests.  Sir 
AVilliam  Stanhope  said,  '  We  are  ill-treated,  for  some  of  us  are 
gentlemen.'  Beckfbrd  told  the  earl  it  was  hard  to  refuse  a  table 
to  the  City  of  London,  whom  it  would  cost  ten  thousand  pounds 
to  banquet  the  king,  and  that  his  lordship  would  repent  it  if  they 
h;id  not  a  table  in  the  hall ;  thev  had.  To  the  barons  of  the 
Cinque  Ports,  who  made  the  same  complaint,  lie  said,  *  If  you 
come  to  me  as  lord-steward.  I  tell  you  it  is  impossible  ;  if  as  Lord 
Talbot,  I  am  a  match  for  any  of  yon ;'  and  then  he  said  to  Lord 
Bute,  *  If  I  were  a  minister,  thus  would  I  talk  to  France,  to 
Spain,  to  the  Dutch  ;  none  of  your  half-measures.' " 

There  was  long  a  tradition  current  that,  among  the  spectators 
at  the  great  ceremony  in  the  hall,  was  no  less  a  person  than  the 


so 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEEN'S   OF  ENGLAND. 


CHARLOTTE   SOPHL\. 


31 


Young  Pretender,  who  was  said  to  have  been  there  incognito,  and 
not  without  some  hope  of  seeing  tlie  gaunth»t  defiantly  thrown 
down  by  the  ehampion  taken  up  by  <onie  bold  adherent  of  his 
cause.  Indeed,  it  is  further  reported  tliut  pre[)aration  had  been 
made  for  .such  an  attemi)t,  but  that  (fortunately)  it  aeeidentally 
failed.  The  Pretender,  so  runs  the  legend,  was  recognized  by  a 
nobleman,  who,  standing  near  him,  whispered  in  his  ear  that  he 
was  the  last  i)erson  anybody  w  ould  ex|)eet  to  find  there.  '*  I  am 
here  sim{)ly  out  of  curiosity,"  was  the  answer  of  the  Wanderer; 
*'but  I  assure  you  that  the  man  who  is  the  object  of  all  this  pomj) 
and  nuigniticence  is  the  person  in  the  world  whom  I  the  least 
envy."  To  complete  the  chain  of  re[)orts,  it  may  be  further  no- 
ticed that  Charles  Edward  was  said  to  have  abjured  Romanism,  in 
the  new  church  in  the  Strand,  in  the  year  1754.  But  to  return 
to  known  facts. 

There  was  great  gayety  in  town  generally  at  this  period.  The 
young  queen  announced  that  she  would  attend  the  opera  once  a 
^^'^'^^— ^^'«'  seemed  dissipation  enough  for  her,  who  had  been  edu- 
cated w  ith  some  strictness  in  the  ([uietest  and  smallest  of  Clerman 
courts.  The  weekly  attendance  of  royalty  is  thus  commented  upon 
by  Walpole— "It  is  a  fresh  disa>ter  to  our  box,  where  we  have 
lived  so  harmoniously  for  three  years.  AVe  can  get  no  alternative 
but  that  over  3Iiss  Chudleigh's;  and  Lord  Straftord  and  Lady 
:Mary  Coke  will  not  subscribe  unless  we  can.  The  Duke  of  De- 
vonshire and  I  are  negotiating  with  all  our  art  to  keep  our  party 
together.  The  crowds  at  the  openi  and  play  when  the  kin-  and 
queen  go.  are  a  little  greater  than  what  I  remember.  The  late 
royalties  went  to  the  Ilaymarket,  when  it  was  the  fji^hion  to  fre- 
quent  the  other  opera  in  Lincoln-Inn-Fields.  Lord  CMie^tertirld 
one  night,  came  into  the  latter,  and  was  asked  if  he  had  been  at 
the  other  house .^  ^'es,'  said  he,  -but  there  was  nol)odv  but  the 
kmg  and  queen;  and  as  I  thought  they  might  be  talking  busine<. 
1  came  away.' "  o  » 

The  theatres,  of  course,  adopted  the  usual  fashion  of  reproducing 
the  ceremony  of  the  con>nation  on  the  stage.  Garrick,  con<iderin" 
that  he  w-as  a  man  of  taste,  displayed  great  tastelessness  in  his  co.^ 
duct  on  this  occasion.     After  "Henry  VIIL,"  in  which  Bran^lay 


»» 


played  the  King;  Ilavard  acted  Wolsey,  and  Yates,  what  was  so 
long  played  as  a  comic  part,  Gardiner ;  in  which  Mrs.  Pritchard 
played  the  Queen,  and  Mrs.  Yates  Anne  Bolleyn,  a  strange  rep- 
resentation of  the  ceremonial  was  presented  to  the  public.     Gar- 
rick, it  is  said,  knowing  that  Rich  would  spare  no  expense  in  pro- 
ducing the  s])ectacle  at  the  other  house,  and  fearing  the  cost  of 
comjietition  with  a  man  ihan  whom  the  stage  never  again  saw  one 
so  clever  in  getting  up  scenic  effects,  till  it  possessed  Farley,  con- 
tented himself  with  the  old,  mean,  and  dirty  dresses  which  had 
fiornred  in  the  stajre  coronation  of  George  IL  and  Caroline.     The 
most  curious  incident  of  Garrick's  show  was  that,  by  throwing 
down  the  wall  behind  the  stage,  he   really  opened  the  latter  into 
Drury  Lane  itself,  where  a  monster  bonfire  was  burning,  and  a 
mob  huzzaing  about  it.     The  police  authorities  did  not  interfere, 
and  the  absurd   representation   was   continued  for  six  or  seven 
weeks,  *•  till  the  indignation  of  the  public,'  says  Davis,  '"  put  a  stop 
to  it,  to  the  great  c(jmfort  of  the  performers,  who  walked  in  the 
procession,   and   who   were   seized    with    colds,   rheumatism,   and 
swelled  faces,  from  the  suffocation  of  the  ^moke,  and  the  raw  air 
from  the  open  street."     Their  majesties  did  not  witness  the  repre- 
sentation of  the  coronation  at  either  house.     Their  first  visit  was 
paid  to  Drury  Lane,  when  the  queen  commanded  the  piece  to  be 
played,  and  her  selection  was  one  that  had  some  wit  in  it.     The 
young  bride  chose  "  Rule  a  Wife  and  have  a  Wife."     The  royal 
visit  took  place  on  the  2Gtli  of  November. 

At  Covent  Garden  "  Henry  the  Fifth,"  with  the  Coronation, 
was  acted  twenty-six  times ;  and  "  Richard  the  Third,"  with  the 
same  ])ageant,  was  played  fourteen  times.  That  exquisite  hussey, 
]\Irs.  Bellamy,  walked  in  the  procession,  as  the  representative  of 
the  queen.  Their  majesties  paid  their  first  visit  in  state,  on  the 
7th  January,  17G2.  The  king,  with  some  recollection,  probably, 
of  his  consort's  "  bespeak"  at  Drury  Lane,  commanded  the  *' Merry 
Wives  of  Windsor."  S8  that  in  this  respect  the  new  reign  com- 
menced merrily  enough. 


S2 


LIVES   OF  THK    QUEENS   OF   ENGLAND. 


ClIAPTKK  JI. 


COURT    AND    CITV. 


o 


The  entire  population  seemed  surprised  at  having  got  a  youn_ 
queen  and  king  to  reign  over  them  ;  and,  except  an  occasional  phi- 
card  or  two,  denouncing  *•  petticoat  government,"  and  pronouncing 
against  Scotch  ministers,  and  Lord  George  Sackville,  tliere  seemed 
no  dissatisfied  voice  in  the  whole  metix)polis.     The  graces  of  the 
young  sovereign   were    sung   by  pseudo-poets,  and   Walpole,  in 
graceful  prose,  told  of  his  surprise  at  seeing  how  comjdetely  the 
old  levee-room  had  lost  its  air  of  a  lion's  den.     ''  The  sovereifirn 
don't  stand  in  one  spot,  with  his  eyes  fixed  royally  on  the  ground, 
and  dropping  bits  of  German  news  ;  he  walks  about  and  speaks  to 
everybody.     1   saw   him  afterwards  on  the  throne,  where   he  is 
graceful  and  genteel ;  sits  with  dignity,  and  reads  his  answers  to 
addresses  well.     It  was  the  Cambridge  addic-s,  carried  by  the 
Duke  of  Newcastle,  in  his  doctor's  gown,  and  looking  like  the  Me- 
.  decin  malyrv  hti.     He  had  been  vehemently  solicitous  for  attend- 
ance, for  fear  my  Lord  West  more laml,  who  vouchsafes  himself  to 
bring  the  address  from  Oxford,   should  outnumber  him.     Ix)rd 
Lichfield  and  several  other  Jacobites  have  kissed  hands.     George 
Selwyn  says,  '  They  go  to  St.  James's  because  now  there  are  so 
many  Stuarts  there.'"     In  allusion  to  the  crowds  of  nobles,  ^en- 
tie  and  sim])le,  going  up  to  congratulate  the  king,  or  to  view  the 
processions  flocking  to  the  foot  of  the  throne,  or  surrounding  the 
king,  a>  it  were,  wlien  he  went  to  the  firs^parliament,  Walpole  re- 
marks:  "The  day  the  king  went  to  the  house  I  was  three-ipuirters 
of  an   hour   getting   through    Whitehall.      There    were    subjects 
enough  to  set  up  half  a  dozen  petty  kings :  the   Pretender  would 
be  proud  to  reign  over  the  footmen  only ;  and  indeed  unless  he 


CHARLOTTE  SOPHIA. 


S3 


acquires  some  of  them,  he  will  have  no  subjects  left ;  all  their  mas- 
ters flock  to  St.  James's."  In  a  few  words  he  describes  the  scene 
at  the  theatre  on  the  king's  first  visit,  alone.  *'  The  first  night  the 
king  went  to  the  play,  which  was  civilly  on  a  Friday,  not  on  the 
opera  night,  as  he  used  to  do,  the  whole  audience  sang  God  save 
the  Kluff  in  chorus.  For  the  first  act  the  press  was  so  great  at  the 
door,  that  no  ladies  could  go  to  the  boxes,  and  only  the  servants 
ai)i)eared  there,  who  kei)t  places.  At  the  end  of  the  second  act, 
the  whole  mob  broke  in  and  seated  them.-elves."  The  play  was 
"  Richard  the  Third,"  in  which  Garrick  rejjresented  the  king. 
George  III.  repeated  his  visit  on  the  23d  December  to  see  '*  King 
John."  In  both  plays  the  heroes  are  monarchs  who  have  displaced 
the  rightful  heirs  to  the  throne  ;  and  if  there  were  Jacobites  among 
the  audience,  doubtless  they  made,  mentally,  application  of  the  fact* 

His  majesty  grievously  oflended  Garrick  on  this  night,  by  a 
manifestation  of  what  the  latter  considered,  very  bad  taste.  The 
king  preferred  Sheridan  in  Falconbridge,  to  Garrick  in  King 
John,  and  when  this  reached  the  ears  of  (iarrick,  he  was  exces- 
sively hurt,  and  though  the  boxes  were  taken  for  King  John,  for 
several  nights,  the  oftcnded  "  Koscius"  would  not  allow  the  play 
to  have  its  proper  run. 

But  there  were  other  stages  on  which  more  solemn  pageants 
had  to  be  perl'ormed.  The  sovereigns  had  yet  to  make  their  first 
appearance  within  tliL*  city  liberties. 

The  queen  was  introduced  to  the  citizens  of  London  on  Lord 
Mayor's  Day ;  on  which  occasion  they  may  be  said  emphatically, 
to  have  "  made  a  day  of  it."  They  left  St.  James's  palace  at  noon^ 
and  in  great  state,  accompanied  by  all  the  royal  family,  escorted 
by  guards,  and  cheered  by  the  people,  whose  particular  holiday 
was  thus  shared  in  common.  There  was  the  usual  ceremony  at 
Temple  Bar  of  opening  the  gates  to  royalty,  and  giving  it  welcome ; 
and  there  was  the  once  usual  address  made  at  the  east  end  of  St. 
Paul's  Churchyard,  by  the  senior  scholar  of  Christ's  Hospital 
school.  Having  survived  the  cumbrous  formalities  of  the  first,  and 
smiled  at  the  flowery  figures  of  the  second,  the  royal  party  pro- 
ceeded on  their  way,  not  to  Guildhall,  but  to  the  house  of  3Ir. 
Burclav.  th('  patent-m<'dicine-vendor,  an  honest  Qnaker  whom  tho 


84 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS    OF  ENGLAND. 


CHARLOTTE   SOPHL\. 


35 


king  respected,  and  ancestor  to  the  head  of  the  firm  whose  name 
is  not  unmusical  to  Volscian  ears — Barclay,  Perkins  and  Co. 

Robert  Barclay,  the  only  surviving  son  of  the  author  of  the 
same  name,  who  wrote  the  celebrated  "  Apology  for  the  Quakers," 
and  who  was  now  the  king's  entertainer,  was  an  octogenarian,  who 
liad  entertained  in  the  same  house,  two  Georges,  before  he  had 
given  welcome  to  the  third  (ieorge  and  his  queen  Charlotte.  The 
hearty  old  man,  without  abandoning  Quaker  simplicity,  went  a  lit- 
tle beyond  it,  in  order  to  do  honor  to  the  young  queen ;  and  he 
hung  his  balcony  and  rooms  with  a  brilliant  crimson  damask,  that 
must  have  scattered  blushes  on  all  who  stood  near, — i)articularly 
on  the  cheeks  of  the  crowds  of  "Friends"  who  had  assembled 
within  the  house  to  do  honor  to  their  sovereigns.  IIow  the  king, 
and  he  was  at  the  time  a  very  handsome  young  monarch,  fluttered 
all  the  female  Friends  present,  and  set  their  tuckers  in  agitation, 
may  be  guessed  from  the  fact  that  he  kissed  them  all  round,  and 
right  happy  were  they  to  be  so  greeted.  The  queen  smiled  with 
dignity,  her  consort  laughed  and  clapped  his  hands,  and  when  they 
had  passed  into  another  room,  the  king's  young  brothers  followed 
the  (Example,  and  in  a  minute  had  all  the  young  C^uakere>ses  in 
their  arms, — nothing  loth.  Those  were  unceremonious  days,  and 
"a  kiss  all  round,"  was  a  ])leasant  solenmitv,  which  was  undemone 
with  alacrity  even  by  a  Quakeress. 

In  the  apartment  to  which  the  king  and  queen  ha«l  retired,  the 
latter  was  waited  on  by  a  youthful  grand-daughter  of  Mr.  Barclay, 
who  kissed  the  royal  hand  with  mucli  grace,  but  would  r.ot  kneel 
to  do  so,  a  resolute  observance  of  consistent  principle  which  made 
the  young  queen  smile.  Later  in  the  dav,  when  31  r.  Barclav's 
daughters  served  the  queen  with  tea,  they  handed  it  to  the  ladies 
in  waiting,  who  presented  it  kneeling  to  their  sovereign, — a  tbrm 
which  Kachel  and  Rebecca  would  never  have  submitted  to.  From 
the  windows  of  this  hous<',  which  was  exactly  opposite  Bow  Church, 
the  queen  and  consort  witnessed  the  Lord  Mayor's  procession  pass 
on  its  way  to  Westminster,  and  had  the  patience  to  wait  lor  its 
return. 

It  was  no  innovation  for  a  kuig  and  queen  to  take  up  a  position 
in  Cheapside  in  order  to  witness  city  stateliness  or  a  city  revel. 


7 


The  fashion,  indeed,  was  general,  and  in  old  city  leases  it  was  cus- 
tomary to  insert  a  clause,  giying  right  to  the  landlord  and  his 
friends  to  stand  in  the  balcony  during  the  time  of  the  shows  or  pas- 
times upon  the  day  called  Lord  Mayor's  day.  It  will  be  remem- 
bered that  in  the  front  of  Bow  Church  there  is  a  balcony.  This 
balcony,  if  it  were  not  built  expressly  for  the  accommodation  of 
sovereigns,  was  at  least  erected  in  memory  of  the  good  old  times 
when  sovereigns  used  to  stand  in  Cheapside  to  witness  civic  festiv- 
ities. The  original  building  wherefroni  kings  used  to  gaze  at 
mayors,  was  erected  by  Edward  III.  It  was  a  stone  edifice,  on 
the  north  side  of  St.  Mary-le-bow  Church,  darkening  its  windows 
and  obstructing  its  doors.  It  was  called  the  Seldam,  which  is 
translated,  shed^  but  on  what  authority  I  cannot  pretend  to  say. 
Many  a  king  and  queen  sat  in  the  Seldam  and  enjoyed  the  city 
shows  of  every  variety.  In  1418,  Henry  IV.  made  over  the  place 
and  adjoining  property  to  the  corporation,  but  it  still  remained  the 
'si)ot  to  where  the  '*  royal  and  great  estates  betook  themselves  in 
order  to  witness  jousts,  tournaments,  magisterial  shows,  and  the 
assembling  of  the  *  Great  Watches'  on  the  summer  eves  of  St. 
John  the  Baptist,  and  St.  Peter."  In  lolO  Henry  YIII.  came 
thither  in  the  disguise  of  a  yeoman  in  his  own  guard,  halberd  on 
shoulder,  and  known  only  to  a  select  few,  to  view  the  mustering 
and  nuir.-halling  of  the  Watch.  This  was  on  the  eve  of  St.  John. 
At  the  following  eve  of  St.  Peter  he  brought  his  queen  with  him 
in  state,  and  a  merry  night  they  had  of  it. 

It  is  said  to  have  been  once  contemplated  by  the  "  Fifth  Monar- 
chy men"  to  murder  Charles  II.  and  the  Duke  of  York,  as  they 
stood  in  a  balcony  in  Cheapside,  to  view  the  Lord  Mayor's  show ; 
upon  intimation  of  which  the  royal  brothers  absented  themselves 
In  those  days  the  city  maintained  a  fool  and  a  poet.  The  former  was 
by  far  the  wittier  fellow  of  the  two.  The  city  poet  used  to  devise 
the  city  pageants,  and  the  last  pageant  of  the  mayoralty  devised  by 
the  last  of  such  poets,  Elkanah  Settle,  was  witnessed  by  Queen 
Anne,  "  from  a  balcony  in  Cheapside,"  in  the  first  year  of  her 
reign.  Hogarth  has  represented  (in  his  "  Industry  and  Idleness") 
Frederick,  Prince  of  Wales,  and  his  Princess,  as  spectators  of  the 
Lord  IVIavor's  show. 


36 


LIVES   OF  THE    QUEENS   OF   ENGLAND. 


CHARLOTTE   SOPHIA. 


37 


The  princess  was  ii  spectator  of  the  show  on  this  occasion,  with 
her  son,  King  George,  and  her  daughter-in-hiw,  C^ueen  Charlotte. 
I  have  noticed  that  Henry  VIII.  once  came  into  the  city  in  disguise. 
Frederick,  Prince  of  Wales,  also  once  imitated  him.  The  tatlier 
of  George  III.  once  stood  among  the  crowd  in  Cheapside  to  view 
the  return  of  the  Mayor's  procession  to  Guildhall,  lie  was  recog- 
nized by  some  members  of  the  Saddlers'  Comjiany,  by  whom  he 
was  invited  into  their  '-stand,"  erected  in  the  street.  lleaccei)ted 
their  invitation,  and  made  himself  so  agreeable  that  the  company 
unanimously  elected  him  their  "  Master,"  an  oiHce  which  he  ac- 
cepted with  great  readiness. 

Queen  Charlotte  and  George  III.  were  the  last  of  our  soverei"ns 
who  thus  honored  a  Lord  3Iayor's  show.     And  as  it  was  the  last 
occasion,  and  that  the  young  Queen  Charlotte  wjis  t/ie  heroine  of 
the  day,  the  opportunity  may  be  profited  by  to  show  how  that 
royal  lady  looked  and  bore  herself  in  the  estimation  of  one  of  the 
Miss  IJarciays,  whose   letter  descri])tive  of  the  scene,  appeared 
forty-seven  years  subsequently,  in  1808.     The  following  extracts 
are  very  mueli  to  our  purpose  :— "  About   one   o'clock  papa  and 
mamma,  with  sister  Western  to  attend  them,  took  their  stand  at 
the  street-door,  where  my  two  brothers  hud  long  been  to  receive 
the  nobility,  more  than  a  hundnul  of  whom  were  then  waiting  in 
the  warehouse.     As  the  royal  family  came,  they  were  conducted 
into  one  of  the  c(.untin.ir-houses,  wiiie'h  was  transformed  into  a  very 
pretty  parlor.     At  half-past  two  their  majesties  came,  which  was 
two  hours  later  than  they  intended.     On  the  second  pair  of  stairs 
was  placed  our  own  eomi>any,  about  fortv  in  number,  the  chief  of 
whom  were  of  the  Puritan  oiiler,  and  all  in  their  orthodox  habits. 
Next  to  the  drawing-room  doors   were  i)laced  our  own  selves,  I 
mean  papa's  children,  none  else,  to  the  great  mortification  of  vi^it- 
ors,  bemg  allowed  to  enter;  ilr  as  kk^ing  the  king's  hand  without 
kneehng,  was  an  unexampled  honor,  the  king  confined  that  privi- 
lege  to  our  own  family,  as  a  return  for  the  trouble  we  had  been  at 
A  ter  the  royal  pair  had  shown  themselves  at  the  balcony,  we  were 
a^l  introduced,  and  you  may  believe,  at  that  juncture,  we  felt  no 
sman  palpuations.     The  king  met  us  at  the  door,  (a  condescension 
I  did  not  expect,)  at  which  ,>lace  he  saluted  us  with  great  polite- 


ness.  Advancing  to  the  upper  end  of  the  room,  we  kissed  the 
queen's  hand,  at  the  sight  of  whom  we  were  all  in  raptures,  not 
only  from  the  brilliancy  of  her  api)earance,  which  was  pleasing  be- 
yond description,  but  being  throughout  her  whole  person  possessed 
of  that  inexpressible  something  that  is  beyond  a  set  of  features,  and 
equally  claims  our  attention.  To  be  sure,  she  has  not  a  fine  face, 
but  a  most  agreeable  countenance,  and  is  vastly  genteel,  with  an 
air,  notwithstanding  her  being  a  little  woman,  truly  majestic  ;  and 
I  really  think,  by  her  manner  is  expressed  that  complacency  of 
disposition  which  is  truly  amiable  :  and  though  I  could  never  per- 
ceive that  she  deviated  from  that  dignity  which  belongs  to  a  crowned 
head,  yet  on  the  most  trifling  occasions  she  displayed  all  that  easy 
behavior  that  negligence  can  bestow,  ller  hair,  which  is  of  a  light 
color,  hung  in  what  is  called  coronation  ringlets,  encircled  in  a  band 
of  diamonds,  so  beautiful  in  themselves,  and  so  prettily  disposed,  as 
will  admit  of  no  description.  Her  clothes,  which  were  as  rich  as 
gold,  silver,  and  silk  could  make  them,  was  a  suit  from  which  fell 
a  train  suj)ported  by  a  little  page  in  scarlet  and  silver.  The  lustre 
of  her  stonmcher  was  inconceivable.  The  king  I  think  a  very 
personable  man.  All  the  princes  followed  the  king's  example  in 
complimenting  each  of  us  with  a  kiss.  The  queen  was  up  htairs 
three  tinu's,  and  my  little  darling,  whh  Patty  Barclay,  and  Pris- 
cilla  Ball,  were  introduced  to  her.  I  was  present,  and  not  a  little 
anxious  on  account  of  my  girl,  who  kissed  the  queen's  hand  with 
so  much  grace  that  I  thought  the  Princess  Dowager  would  have 
smothered  her  with  kisses.  Such  a  report  was  made  of  her  to  the 
king,  that  Miss  was  sent  for,  and  afforded  him  gi-eat  amusement,  by 
raying,  *  that  she  loved  the  king,  though  she  must  not  love  fine 
things,  and  her  grandpapa  would  not  allow  her  to  make  a  curtesey.* 
Her  sweet  face  made  such  an  impression  on  the  Duke  of  York, 
that  I  rejoiced  she  was  only  five  instead  of  fifteen.  AVhen  he  first 
met  her,  he  tried  to  persuade  Miss  to  let  liim  introduce  her  to  the 
queen ;  but  she  would  by  no  means  consent  till  I  informed  her  he 
was  a  prince,  upon  which  her  little  female  heart  relented,  and  she 
gave  him  her  hand — a  true  cojjy  of  the  sex.  The  king  never  sat 
down,  nor  did  he  taste  anything  during  the  whole  time.  Her  ma- 
jesty drank  tea,  which  was  brought  her  on  a  silver  waiter,  by  brother 


38 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  EXCLAXP. 


John,  wiio  delivered  it  to  the  lady  in  waiting,  and  she  presented  it 
kneeling.     The  leave  they  took  of  us,  was  such  as  we  might  expect 
from  our  equals ;  full  of  ajwlogies  for  our  trouble  for  their  enter- 
tainment— which  they  were  so  anxious  to  have  exi)Uiined,  that  the 
queen  came  up  to  us  as  we  stood  on  one  side  of  the  door,  and  had 
every  word  inteqireted.     My  brotliers  had  the  honor  of  assisting 
the  queen  into  her  coach.     Some  of  us  sat  up  to  see  them  retuni° 
and  the  king  and  queen  took  especial  notice  of  us  as  they  passed! 
The  king  ordered  twenty-four  of  hi^  guard  to  be  jilaced  oi)posite' 
our  door  all  night,  lest  any  of  the  canopy  should  be  pulled  down  by 
the  mob.  in  which  (the  canopy,  it  is  to  be  presumed)  there  were 
one  hundred  yards  of  silk  damask." 

From  the  above  particulars  we  leani  that  it  was  customary  for 
our  sovereigns  to  do  honor  to  industry   long  before  the  period  of 
the  Great  Exhibition  year,  which  is  erroneouslv  supi)osed   to  l)e 
the  o].em-ng  of  the  era  when  a  sort  of  fraternization  took  jjlace  be- 
tween commerce   and  the  crown.     Under  tlie  old  reign,  too,  the 
honor  took  a  homely,  but  not  an  undignified— and  if  TtiU  a  cere 
monious,  yet  a  hearty  .^hape.     It  may  be  questioiunl,   if  rovalty 
were  to  i.ay  a  visit  to  the  family  of  the  present   Mv.   Bai-cl-.v 
whether  the  prince   consort   would  celebrate  the  l>rief  sojourn   b'v 
kissmg  all  the  daughters  of  -  Barclay  and  Perkins.  "     ile  mi-rht 
do  many  things  not  half  .-^o  plea>ant.  "" 

Gog  and  ]Magog  has  never  looked  down  on  so  gloriou.  a  ^cen-' 
and  so  splendid  a  banquet  as  enlivened  Guildhall,  an<l  at  which 
the  queen  and  her  consort  were  royally  entertaine.l,  at  a  co^t  of 
somethmg  approaching  .000/.  L,|eed,  both  sovereigns  tmited  in 
remarkmgthat^or  elegance  of  entertainment  the  citv  beat  the 
cour  end  of  the  town."  A  foreign  minister  present  described  it 
as  a  bancjuet  such  only  as  one  king  could  give  another.  And  it 
u-as  precKsely  so.  The  King  of  the  City  exhibited  his  boundles 
Wimahty  to  the  King  of  England.  The  maies.v  of  the  peo^^ 
iKul  the  i-lm.i  inagi>tra(o  for  a  jruest.  ' 

Tl«..  .„a,i.-,y  ofthe  people,  however,  if  ,ve  ,aav  credit  ,1...  Fnrl 

■o^al  g.u.t.  a,  ,he  ooea..on  warn.„,e.I.     The  p.,..a„.,  ;,.  whieh 


CHARLOTTE   SOPHIA. 


39 


this  much  is  asserted  is  so  curious  as  to  warrant  extract,  with  such 
explanation  as  may  be  necessary  by  the  way. 

*'  On  the  9th  of  November,  George  III.,  who  had  been  married 
only  two  months,  went  in  state  with  his  youthful  queen,  to  dine 
with  the  Lord  Mayor.  It  was  their  majesties'  first  visit  to  the 
City.  Mr.  Pitt,  yielding  to  Lord  Temple's  persua-ions,  and  as  he 
afterwards  declared,  '  against  his  better  judgment,'  went  with  him 
in  his  carriiige,  and  joined  the  procession."  Pitt,  the  **  great  com- 
moner," the  terrible  **  Cornet  of  Horse,"  hated  and  dreaded  by  Sir 
Robert  AValpole,  had  only  just  resigned  office,  because  he  could 
not  get  his  colleagues  to  agree  with  him  in  an  aggressive  policy 
against  Spain,  to  be  at  war  with  which  power  was  then  a  passion 
with  the  people.  For  this  reason,  Pitt  was  their  idol,  and  the 
court  party  their  abomination.  Hence,  the  result  of  Pitt's  joining 
the  procession  might  partly  have  been  anticipated.  The  royal  bride 
and  bridegroom  were  received  by  the  populace  with  indifference, 
and  Pitt's  lale  colleague  with  cries  of '*  No  Newcastle  sahnon  I" 
As  for  Lord  Bute,  he  was  evervwhere  assailed  with  hisses  and 
execrations,  and  would  probably  have  been  torn  in  pieces  by  the 
m(»b.  but  for  the  interference  of  a  band  of  butchers  and  prize- 
fighters, whom  he  had  armed  tis  a  body-guard.  All  the  enthusiasm 
of  the  populace  was  centered  in  Mr.  Pitt,  who  was  "  honored,"  says 
the  Gentleman's  ^Lagaziiie,"  with  the  most  hearty  acclamations  of 
people  of  all  ranks ;  and  so  great  was  the  feeling  in  his  favor,  that 
the  mob  clung  about  every  |.art  of  the  vehicle,  hung  upon  the 
wheels,  hugged  his  footman,  and  even  kissed  his  horses." 

The  roval  bride  must  have  been  astonished,  and  the  brideirroom 
was  indignant  at  what,  a  few  days  after  the  banquet,  he  called  "  the 
abominable  conduct  of  Mr.  Pitt."  The  court  members  of  parlia- 
ment were  directed  to  be  personally  offensive  to  him  in  the  house, 
and  all  the  fashionable  ladies  in  town  went  to  see  the  noble  animal 
baited. 

The  year  of  pageants  ended  with  matters  of  money ;  and  par- 
liament settled  on  Queen  Charlotte  40.000/.  per  annum  to  enable 
her  the  better  to  suj>port  the  royal  dignity ;  with  a  dowry  of 
100,000/.  per  annum,  and  Richmond  Old  Park  and  Somerset 
House  annexed,  in  ra^^e  she  should  survive  his  majesty.     On  the 


40 


LIVES  DP  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


t 


2nd  of  December,  the  kin-  went  in  state  to  the  lioiisc  to  dve  the 
royal  assent  to  the  bill.  The  queen  accompanied  bin),  and  when 
the  royal  assent  had  been  given,  her  majesty  rose  from  her  .eat 
and  eurrsied  to  him  the  grateful  acknowledgments  wliic-h  were 
really  due  to  the  representatives  of  the  peoijle  who  -ave  the 
monev.  ° 

Somersel  House  «a,.  but  an  indifferent  town  residence  for  either 
queen  or  qneen  ,lo«:,ger.  ;„„!  the  king  .liowed  l.is  taste  and  ^mi- 
M  q„e,n  CI,,,rIo.te,  when  in  lieu  of  the  above-named  residence 
he  purehased  for  I,er  that  red-brick  mansion,  which  n.any  of  us' 
can  ,.t  retnemher,  which  .stood  on  the  site  of  the  present  Jiueking- 
ham  lalace,  and  was  then  known  as  "Bnckinghan,  House."  ft 
was  .n.bse,p,en.lv  called  the  ••  Queen's  House."     The  kin.  bought 

fcy  an  act  o   parhamcnt.  obtained  .-on.e  years  afterwards. 

ticftf  r  -'t'r'  ''""  "^■"•■""^  ""''  "'  '"•"'""-•'  ^--  A  por- 
tion of  the  bu,hln,g  oecn,n-,.,I  the  site  of  the  famous  ol.l  .V.,/Ln, 

Oardeus    or.gn.ally  phuued   by  .Tames  I.,  whore  n,or,al   ,    mZ 

app.med  of  „,  these  more  decorous  dav.-.  It  is  perhaps  worth 
nonen,.  that  the  spot  sneces-ively  belonged  to  the  ien  oet^c  t  c 
a.xstoera.,v.  and  to  royahy.     The  lir.-t  building  on    le  sjo', 

Z,  ,  "     '"'  '"  ""■"  "■"'  '"""''"^  'I'"-:"S  'I'e  civil 

the  Mnlberrv  ',,'•"'"''"■''"■"•  -'P^^l^r.     In   Cromwell's  time,  in 
,       "'^'^"'^  ^"""'''"^  ••"Ija'-ont,  there  was  a  great  hoese  of  en 
M  au.m..n,  es,K>eially  fbr  we.Ming  festivals  and  sn.-h  "ay  do  n  " 
The  gardens  w-ere  long  the  resort  of  all  gav  people  ^W  h  ^  1  j 

to  Loul  Arhngton,  Secretary  of  Slate,  and  from  In's  daughter  and 
iJukt  of   Luekuighan.,  ihe  patron  of  Dryden.     The  house  I-.ad 

i      u  v,iiai  lotto,    llioivin  were  all  the  children 


CHARLOTTE   SOI'HIA. 


41 


.i\ 


born,  with  the  exception  of  their  eldest  son,  George  Prince  of 
Wales,  who  was  boi-n  at  St.  James's  Palace ;  and  who  demolished 
the  old  house  in  1825,  and  erected  on  its  site,  one  of  the  ugliest 
palaces  by  which  the  sight  was  ever  offended.  Queen  Victoria 
has  had  some  difficulty  to  make  it  a  comfoilable  residence  ;  to 
render  it  a  beautiful  one  was  out  of  the  i)ower  even  of  her  majesty's 
architect,  :Mr.  Blore.  The  edifice  of  his  predecessor  Nash,  has 
defied  all  his  efforts. 

lUickingham  House  was  the  first  present  made  by  King  George 
to  Queen  Charlotte.  It  has  disapi)eared,  and,  as  consequently 
peculiarly  belonging  to  history,  a  brief  description  of  it,  as  given 
by  Defoe,  and  by  the  Duke  of  Buckingham  who  was  its  owner, 
may  be  interesting  to  those  who  have  interest  in  localities  which 
have  been  the  theatres  of  srreat  events. 

Defoe  loquitur.  ''  Buckingliam  House  is  one  of  the  great  beau- 
ties of  London,  both  by  reason  of  its  situation  and  its  building.  It 
is  situated  at  the  west  end  of  St.  James's  Park,  fronting  the  Mall 
and  the  Great  Walk ;  and  behind  it  is  a  fine  garden,  a  noble  ter- 
race, (from  whenw,  as  well  as  from  the  apartments,  you  have  a 
most  delicious  i)rospect,)  and  a  little  park  with  a  pretty  canal. 
The  court-yard  which  fronts  the  park  is  spacious.  The  ollices  on 
each  side  divided  from  the  palace  by  two  arching  galleries,  and  in 
the  middle  of  the  court  is  a  round  basin  of  water,  lined  with  fi-ee- 
stone,  with  the  figures  of  Neptune  and  the  Tritons,  in  a  water- 
work.  The  staircase  is  large  and  nobly  painted,  and  in  the  hall, 
before  you  ascend  the  stairs,  is  a  very  fine  statue  of  Cain  slayir.g 
of  Abel,  in  marble.  The  apartments,  indeed,  are  very  noble,^  the 
furniture  rich,  and  many  very  good  pictures.  The  top  of  the 
palace  is  flat,  on  which  one  has  a  full  view  of  London  and  West- 
minster, and  the  adjacent  country ;  and  the  four  figures  of  Mercury, 
Secrecy,  Equity,  and  Liberty,  front  the  park,  and  those  of  the 
Four  Seasons  the  garden.  His  Grace  has  also  put  inscriptions  on 
the  four  parts  of  his  palace.  On  the  front  towards  the  park, 
which  is  as  delicious  a  situation  as  can  be  imagined,  the  descrijition 
is.  Sic  siti  leetanfur  Lares  (the  household  gods  delight  in  such  a 
situation),  and  fronting  the  garden,  Jbis  in  Urbe" (the  country 
within  the  citv)  :  which  may  be  properly  said;  for  from  that  gar- 


42 


SAYKS  OF  TflK  QUKENS  OF  EXGLANp. 


den  you  sec  nothing  but  an  open  coiintn-,  and  an  uninterrupted 
view,  witliout  seeing  any  part  of  the  city,  because  the  palace  inter- 
rupts that  prospect   from   the  garden."     To  tliis  description  of 
Defoe's,  in  which  no  one  now  would  recognize  even  the  adjacent 
Jocality,  we  add  the  D.iiic  of  Buckingham's  :— "The  avenues  to  this 
house  arc  along  St.  James's  I'ark.  through  rows  of  goodly  elms, 
on  one  hand,  and  gay  nourishing  limes  on  (he  other.     7V,„t  lor 
coaches;  M,>  (br  walking;  with  the  JIall   Iving  between   them. 
Ihis  reaches  to  my  iron  palisade  which   encompasses  a   s.nn.re 
court,  which  has  in  tlie  midst  a  great  biisin,  with  statues  hnd  water- 
works, and  from  its  entrance  rises  all  the  wav,  imperceptibly  till 
we  mount  to  a  ten-ace  in  f,-ont  of  a  large  lu.U;  pav.d  with  so.kuc 
white  stones,  mixed  with  a  (hirk-i-olored  marble.     'I'l,..  wj.lN  of  it 
covered  with  a  set  of  pici.trcs  done  in  the  school  of  KaHaelle.    Out 
ot  this,  on  the  right   hand,  we  go  into  a  parlor  SS  feet   bv  39  feet 
w„h  a  niche  15  feet  bro.-ul  ibr  a  butlet,  paved  with  whi.'c  marble,' 
and  place<l  withm   an  arch,  with   pilasters  of  .livers  colors,  the 
upper  par,  of  which,  .as  high  as  the  ceiling,  is  painted  bv  I  icci. 
Lnder  the  wu.dows  of  this  closet  (of  books)  ;md  grcen-ho-„se  is  „ 
.tie  wthlerness  full  of  blackbirds  and  nightingales.     The  trec^ 
hough   p  anted  by  myself,   require   lopping  ah:e.ndv.   ,o  prevent' 
he.r  hnulcnng  the  views  of  that  fine  catml  in  the  p.k.     Alh-r " 
..  to  a  fr.end  I  will  ox,..c  n.y  weakness,  as  an  inst;u.;e  of  t  o 
nnnd  s  ,n,qu,e,ness  tmder  the  most  pleasing  cnjovn.onts.   I  ant 
oftcner  m.ssmg  a  pretty  gallery  in  the  old  house  i  p„|led  do 
than  i>le.-,sed  with  the  «,//r  w|,iel,   I   l,,,;.,   :„  ;,,    ,  '  ,  ",""7" 
thousand  times  better  in  all  .nauner  of  ;:.:pc;,:  "  '  """="  " 

1  he  above,  which  is  from  a  letter  to  the  Duke  of  Shrew.burv 
yy  gtve  a  general  idea  of  the  hon^e  as  it  stood,  down  ,        e  .^J 
o(  Its  hcng  presented  to  Queen  Charlotte.     In  her  time,  JI     V  ™.t 
erected  a  gt-and  stair-casc.     West's  pictures  so«n  mi...     he  „  ^ 

at  Ilamptou  ci;    \,?V"T''"'  "' '.''"^"^  ''''^'--  •'"— 
pension     The  V  "     "  '"'"""'"  ^^''■'"  »  ^ery  liberal 

pcn.ion.    1  he  d„,n>g-roo:„  was  a.Iorned  with  ,.ictures  by  Zucchero, 


CHARLOTTK   SOPHIA. 


43 


Vandyke,  Lely,  Zoffani,  Mytens,  and  Houseman.  The  queen's 
house,  although  intended  as  a  simple  asylum  for  it.s  royal  owners, 
from  the  oppressive  gorgeousness  and  ceremony  of  St.  Jame.-'s, 
did  not  lack  a  splendor  of  its  own.  The  crimson  drawing-room, 
the  second  drawing-room,  and  the  blue  velvet  room,  were  magni- 
ficent apartments,  adapted  for  the  most  showy  of  royal  pageants, 
and  adorned  with  valuable  pictures.  Queen  Charlotte  had  hardly 
been  installed  in  this  her  own  "  House,"  when  her  husband  com- 
menced the  formation  of  that  invaluable  library  which  her  son,  on 
demolishing  her  house,  made  over  to  the  nation,  and  is  now  in  the 
liritish  Museum. 

The  son  just  alluded  to  was  George  IV.  Under  the  pretence 
of  being  about  to  repair  Buckingham  House,  he  applied  to  the 
Commons  to  afford  the  necessary  supplies.  These  were  granted 
under  the  special  stipulation  that  repairs  (and  not  rebuilding) 
were  intended.  The  king  and  his  architect,  Xa<h,  however,  went 
on  demolishing  and  reconstructing  until  the  fine  old  mansion  disap- 
peared, and  a  hideous  palace  took  its  place,  at  a  tremendous  co.-t 
to  the  public.  It  was  a  most  shameful  juggle,  but  it  never  profited 
the  author.  Neither  of  the  children  of  Charlotte,  who  lived  to  as- 
cend the  throne,  resided  in  this  palace.  The  old  building  was  the 
l)roperty  of  a  queen  consort,  the  new  me  was  first  occupied  by  a 
queen  regnant,  the  daughter  of  Charlotte's  third  son,  Edward. 
This  is  anticipating  events  ;  but  we  ha>  e  done  with  the  story  of  the 
locality,  and  we  now  return  to  that  of  its  mistress,  the  first  great 
event  in  whose  life,  after  she  became  mi-^tress  of  Bucking-ham 
House,  was  her  becoming  the  mother  of  him  who  destroyed  it, — 
George  Augustus  Frederick,  born  Prince  of  Wales. 

Returning,  then,  to  the  original  royal  owners  of  Buckingham 
Palace,  or  the  queen's  hou.<e  rather,  we  find  them  there,  in  1762, 
described  by  Horace  WaliK)le,  as  forming  a  disposition  of  the  couit 
that  is  "  quite  comfortable  "  to  him.  "  The  king  and  queen,"  he 
says,  "  are  settled  for  good  and  all,  at  Buckingham  House,  and  are 
stripping  the  other  palaces  to  furnish  it.  In  short,  they  have  al- 
ready fetched  pictures  from  Hampton  Court,  which  indicates  their 
never  living  there ;  consequently  Strawberry  Hill  will  remain  in 
possession  of  its  own  tranquillity,  and  not  become  a  cheese-cake 


'^T 


44 


LIVES   OF  THE   QUEENS   OF  ENGLAND. 


CHARLOTTE   SOPH  I  A. 


45 


hou^e  to  the  palace.     All  I  ask,"  says  the  cynic  in  lace  ruffles, "all 
I  ask  of  princes  is  not  to  live  within  tive  miles  of  me." 

The  royal  couple  lived  quietly,  and  when  they  were  disposed  to 
be  gay  and  in  comjiany,  they  already  exhibited  a  spirit  of  economy 
>vhich  may  illustrate  the  saying,  that  any  virtue  carried  to  excess, 
becomes  a  vice.     Economy  is  an  admirable  virtue,  and  they  who 
commence  life  with  it  are  less  likely  to  need  so  strictly  to  observe 
it  as  they  proceed  ;  but  too  much  economy  is  downright  parsimonv 
and  we   should  never  think  now  of  leaving  our  canls  at  a  hou<V 
the  young  marrie<l  owners  of  which  had  invited  us  to  a  ball  and 
sent  us  home  without  our  >upper.    This  was  what  Queen  Charlotte 
did  on  the  occasion  of  her  first  party.     On  the  2Gth  of  November 
she  and  the  king  saw  -a  few  friends,"  the  invitations  onlv  included 
halt  a  dozen  strangers,  and  the  entire  companv  consisted  of  not 
more  than  twelve  or  thirteen  couple.     Th<^  six  stran-er.  were 
Lady  Carohne  Kus>e]l.   Lady  Jane  Stewart,   Lord  Sutfolk,  Lord 
Northampton,  Lord  Mandeville,  and  Lord  Grev.     Beside,  the^e 
were  the  court^.i/^..^,  namely,  the  Duehe^s  ot^  Ancaster  and  he^ 
Grace  ot  Ilanulton.  who  accompanied  the  queen  on  her  first  arrival 
Those  ladies  danced  little  :  but  on  the  other  hand,  Ladv  Effingham' 
and  Lady  Egremont  danced  much.     Then  there  were  the  six  mai.Is 
of  honor.  Lady  B<.lingl>roke.  who  could  not  dance  because  she  was 
in  black  gloves ;  and  Lady  Su^an  Stewart  in  attendance  upon 
La<ly  Augu>ta        The  latter  was  that  eldest  daughter  of  Frc^de 
nek,  Pnnce  of  Male,  at  whose  bh.h  there  had  bJen  such  a "m- 
mofon,   and  who  was    commonly  called   the   Lady  Au^u^ta    in 

Engh>h  ..tUe  of  nammg  our  princesses.  The  noblemen  in  waitin- 
were  Lords  Mareh,  Eglintoun,  Cantilupe  and  Iluntin.do  if 
we..  ..no  sut.rs.b,"  except  the  kings  mother,  the   iL-hSr^f 

^w::  'Si:?  '''''%     '^  ''-  -^-  ^--y-  ^^Hieh  commence:^ 
be   >  en  half-pa>t  s,x  and  seven,  the  king  danced  the  whole  time 
-th  the  queen:  and  the  Lady  Augusta,  future  mother  of  th    ne"t 
queen  of  England,  with  her  four  younger  brothers.     The  dlnXc^ 

separated  wuhout  vunner-  nml   ^.^  «« i   i    i  *  ^"*^  " 

„    1  .  .,         11'^'^'  *^"^*  -o  ended  the  youn«^  counh-'s  fir«f 

and  not  very  hilarious  i^arfA-.  ^       '      ^        "^* 


That  young  couple  certainly  began  life  in  a  prosaically  business- 
like way.  To  suit  the  king's  convenience,  one  opera  night  was 
changed  from  Tuesdays  to  Mondays,  because  the  former  was 
**  post-day,"  and  his  majesty  too  much  engaged  to  attend ;  and  the 
queen  would  not  have  gone  on  Tuesdays  without  him. 

It  was  perhaps  with  reference  to  the  queen's  first  supperless 
l)arty  that  Lord  Chesterfield  uttered  a  ban  mot,  when  an  addition 
to  the  peerage  was  contemplated.  When  this  was  mentioned  in 
his  presence,  some  one  remarked : — *'  I  suppose  there  will  be  no 
dukes  made."  "Oh,  yes,  there  will,"  exclaimed  Chesterfield, 
"  there  is  to  be  one:'  "  Is  ?  who  ?"  "  Lord  Talbot ;  he  is  to  be 
created  Duke  Humphrey,  and  there  is  to  be^no  table  kept  at  court 
but  his."  If  there  be  a  young  reader  ignorant  of  whence  '*  dinin"- 
with  Duke  Humphrey,"  takes  its  origin,  to  such  it  may  be  intima- 
ted that  the  tomb  of  Humphrey,  Duke  of  Gloucester,  stood  in  Old 
St.  Paul's,  and  that  in  front  of  it  was  the  walk  of  shabbv-genteel 
people,  ashamed  to  be  seen  in  the  street  during  the  common  dinner 
hour.  They  were  popularly  said  to  have  dined  with  Duke 
Humphrey,  that  is,  not  at  all ;  and  Queen  Charlotte,  at  her  first  party, 
certainly  made  her  guests  sup  with  the  same  illustrious  individual. 

The  young  nobility  who  had  formed  great  expectations  of  the 
splendor  and  gaiety  that  were  to  result,  as  they  thought,  from  the 
establishment  of  a  new  court  with  a  young  couple  at  the  head  of  it, 
were  miserably  disappointed  that  pleasure  alone  was  not  the  deity 
enshrined  in  the  royal  dwelling.  To  the  queen's  palace  they  gave 
the  name  of  Holy  rood  House,  intending  to  denote  thereby  that  it 
was  the  mere  abode  of  chill,  gloom,  and  meanness.  But,  be  this 
as  it  may,  the  English  court  was  now  the  only  court  in  Europe  at 
which  vice  was  discountenanced,  and  virtue  set  as  an  example,  and 
insisted  on  in  others.  With  respect  to  the  routine  followed  there, 
it  certainly  lacked  excitement,  but  was  hardly  the  worse  for  that. 
The  queen  passed  most  of  her  mornings  in  receiving  instructions 
from  Dr.  Majendie  in  the  English  tongue.  She  was  an  apt  scholar, 
improved  rapidly,  and  though  she  never  spoke  or  wrote  with  ex- 
ceeding elegance,  yet  she  learned  to  justly  appreciate  our  best 
authors,  and  was  remarkable  for  the  perfection  of  ta«te  and  manner 
with  which  she  read  aloud.     Needle-work  followed  study,  and 


46 


LIVES   OF  THE    QUEEXS  OF   ENGLAND. 


CHARLOTTE   SOPHIA. 


47 


exercise  followed  needle-w  ork.  The  queen  usually  rode  or  walked 
in  company  with  the  king,  till  dinner-time  ;  and  in  the  evening  she 
played  on  the  harpsichord,  or  sang  aloud,— and  this  she  could  do 
almost  en  miiste ;  or  she  took  share  in  a  homely  game  at  crihbarre, 
and  closed  the  innocently  spent  day  with  a  dance.  "  And  so  to  bed," 
as  3Ir.  Pepys  would  say,  without  supper. 

The  routine  was  something  changed  when  her  majesty's  brother, 
Prince  Charles  of  Strelitz,  became  a  visitor  at  the  English  court 
in  February,  17C2.  He  was  a  prince  Axon  of  stature%ut  well- 
made,  had  fine  eyes  and  teeth,  and  a  very  persuasive  way  with 
him.  80  persuasive  indeed,  that  he  at  one  time  contrived  to  ex- 
l)ress  from  the  king  30.000/.  out  of  the  civil  list  revenue,  to  pay 
the  debts  the  prince  had  contracted  with  German  creditors! 

In  the  meantime,  matters  of  costume,  as  connected  with  court 
etiquette,  were  not  considered  beneath  her  majestv's  notice.     Her 
birth-day  was  ke])t  on  the  18th  of  Januarv,  to  make  it  as  distinct 
as  possible  from  the  king's  kept   in  June,  and  to  encoura-e  both 
wuiter  and  summer  fashions.     For  the  latter  anniversary  a  dre<s 
was  instituted  of  "  stift-bodi,  .1  guwns  and  bare  shoulders ;''  and  in- 
vented, it  was  said,  '•  to  thin  the  drawiug-room."     ••  It  will  be  warm- 
er, I  hope,"  says  Walpole,  in  March,  ••  bv  the  king's  birth-dav    or 
the  old  ladies  will  catch  their  death..     AVhat  dreadful  discoveries 
wdl  be  made  both  on  fat  and  lean  .'     I  recommend  to  vou,  the  idea 
ot    Mrs.    Cavendish,  when  half  stark  I"     The    queen's    drawin- 
rooms  however  were  generally  crowded  bv  the  ladies,  and  no  won- 
der,  when  seventeen  English  and  Scotch,  unmarried,  dukes  mi.^ht 
be  counted  at  them.     The  especial  birth-dav  drawing-room  on  Hie 
anniversary  of  the  king's  natal  day  was,  however,  ill  attmded,  le<s 
on  the  king  s  account  than  on  that  of  his  minister.  Lord  IJute     Me-in 
while,  court  was  made  to  the  queen  by  civilities  shown  to  a  second 
brother  who  had  come  over  to  visit  her,  allured  bv  atiection,  and 
the  success  which  had  attended   the  elder  brother.'    Lndv  North 
umberland's  tVte  to  this  wandering  prince  was  a  ••  pom,H>us  fe^tine  •" 
-not  only  the  whole   house,  but  the  garden  was  illuminated,  and 
was  quite  a  fairy  scene.     Arches  and  pynmiids  of  light  alternately 
surrounded  the  enclosure  ;  a  diamond  necklace  of  lamps  ed^ed  the 
rails  and  descent,  with  a  spiral  obelisk  of  candles  on  each^and  • 


and  dispersed  over  the  lawn  with  litile  bands  of  kettle-drums, 
clarinets,  fifes,  &c.,  and  the  lovely  moon  who  came  without  a  card." 

But  the  great  event  of  the  year  was  the  birth  of  the  heir-appa- 
rent. It  occurred  at  St.  James's  Palace,  on  the  12th  of  August. 
In  previous  reigns,  such  events  generally  took  place  in  the  presence 
of  many  witnesses,  but  on  the  present  occasion  the  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury  idone  was  present  in  that  capacity. 

The  royal  chri-tening  will  be,  however,  of  more  interest  than 
details  of  the  birth  of  the  prince.  The  ceremony  was  pei-formed  in 
the  grand  council  chamber,  the  Archbi>hop  of  Canterbury,  "  the 
llight  Rev.  midwife,  Thomas  Seeker,"  as  Walpole  calls  him,  offici- 
ating. ^Valpole,  describing  the  scene,  on  the  day  after,  says  : — 
*•  Our  next  monarch  was  christened  last  night,  George  Augustus 
Frederick.  The  Princess  (Dowager  of  AVales).  the  Duke  of  Cum- 
beriand  and  the  Duke  of  Mecklenburgh,  sponsors.  The  queen's 
bed,  magnificent,  and  they  say,  in  taste,  was  placed  in  the  dmwing- 
roora  ;  though  she  is  not  to  see  company  in  form,  yet  it  looks  as  if 
they  had  intended  people  should  have  been  there,  as  all  who  pre- 
sented themselves  were  admitted,  which  were  very  few,  for  it  had 
not  been  notified.  I  suppose  to  prevent  too  great  a  crowd ;  all  I 
have  heard  named,  beside  those  in  waiting,  were  the  Duchess  of 
Queensberry,    Lady    Dalkeith,    Mrs.   Grenville,  and  about  four 

other  ladies." 

It  was  precisely  at  the  period  of  the  christening  of  this  royal 
babe,  that  the  marriage  of  her  who  was  to  be  the  mother  of  his 
future  wife  was  first  publicly  spoken  of.  In  September,  Wali)olc 
expresses  a  hope  to  his  friend  Conway,  that  the  hereditary  Prince 
of  Brunswick  is  "  recovering  of  the  wound  in  his  loins,  for  they 
sav  he  is  to  marrv  the  Prince^-^  Augusta." 


48 


LIVES   OF  THE   QUEENS   OF   ENGLAND. 


CilAKLOlTE   SOPHIA. 


49 


ciiaptp:r  tit. 

ANECDOTES    AND    INCTDF.NTS. 

The  life  of  Charlotte  was  of  so  essentially  a  domestic  character 
as  to  atfonl  but  few  materials  for  the  historian.  For  the  less  dig- 
nitied  sketch  of  scenes  and  personal  traits,  the  salient  points  in  the 
queen's  career  furnish  more  incidents.  AVith  these,  I  have  more 
to  do,  as  being  rather  a  story-teller  than  a  historian,  dealing  more 
with  anecdotes  of  persons  than  with  parties  and  politics ;  and 
affording,  I  humbly  hope,  not  much  less  amusement  to  the  readers 
than  if  "l  had  been'  twice  as  ambitious,— and,  therewith,  perhaps, 
infinitely  more  tedious. 

In  1701,  there  was  not  a  more  gorgeously  attired  queen,  in 
presence  of  the  i)ublic,  than  ours.  But  we  learn  that  in  1702,  the 
first  thing  of  which  the  queen  got  positively  weary  was  her  jewels. 
At  first  seeing  herself  endowed  with  them,  if  such  a  phrase  be  ad- 
missible, her^joy  was  girlish,  natural,  and  unfeigned.  But  the 
gladness  was  soon  over.  It  was  the  ecstasy  of  a  week,  as  she  lier- 
.<elf  said,  a  quarter  of  a  century  later;  and  there  was  indiflerence 
at  the  end  of  a  fortnight.  -  I  thought  at  first,"  she  said,  "  I  should 
always  choose  to  wear  them;  but  the  fatigue  and  trouble  of  putting 
theni  on,  and  the  care  they  required,  and  the  fear  of  losing  them; 
why,  believe  me,  madam,  in  a  fortnight's  time,  I  longed  for  my  own 
earlier  dress,  and  wished  never  to  see  them  more." 

This  was  said  to  :Miss  Burney,  subse(iuently  her  dresser  and 
reader,  who  add.->  that  the  (pieen  informed  her  that  dress  and  ^hows 
had  never  been  things  .-he  cared  for,  even  in  the  bloom  of  her 
youth ;  and  that  neatness  and  comfort  alone  gave  her  pleasure  in 
herself  as  in  others.  If  this  good  taste  had  been,  an<l  indeed  if  it 
were  now,  common  in  the  middle  classes  of  ^ociety,  how  much  fewer 


names  would  be  in  the  Gazette,  and  how  much  fewer  claims  would 
be  made  on  the  prudent  portions  of  families  by  the  extravagant 
who  so  coolly  apply  to  them !  To  return  to  the  queen,  however, 
she  herself  confessed  that  ''  the  first  week  or  fortnight  of  being  a 
queen,  when  only  in  her  seventeenth  year,  she  thought  splendor 
sufficiently  becoming  her  station  to  believe  she  should  choose 
thenceforth  constantly  to  support  it.  But  it  was  not  her  mind," 
says  Miss  Buraey,  "  but  only  her  eyes  that  were  dazzled,  and 
therefore  her  delusion  speedily  vanished,  and  her  understanding 
was  too  strong  to  give  it  any  chance  of  returaing." 

This  is  pretty,  but  it  has  the  disadvantage  of  not  being  exactly 
true.  The  queen  may  have  been  indifferent  for  a  while  to  the 
wearing  or  the  value  of  diamonds,  but  later  in  life  if  she  did  nurse 
a  cherished  passion,  it  was  for  these  glittering  gewgaws.  The 
popular  voice  at  least,  accused  her  of  this  passion,  and  before  many 
years  elapsed,  it  was  commonly  said  that  no  money  was  so  sure  to 
buy  her  favor  as  a  present  of  diamonds. 

In  17G3,  the  country  hailed  the  advent  of  peace,  and  the  retire- 
ment of  Lord  Bute  from  otfice.  The  queen's  popularity  was 
greater  than  that  of  the  king,  and  even  men  of  extremely  liberal 
politics  greeted  her  '*  mild  and  tender  virtues."  She  now  encour 
aged  trade  by  her  splendid  fetes,  and  was  one  of  those  persons 
who  by  enjoying  festive  grandeurs  calmly,  acquire  a  reputation  for 
calmly  despising  them.  In  August,  1763,  she  became  the  mother 
of  a  second  prince,  Frederick,  afterwards  Duke  of  York,  of  whom, 
and  of  the  children  of  Charlotte,  generally,  I  shall  speak  in  anotlier 

chapter. 

One  of  the  first  acts  of  the  queen,  this  same  year,  was  a  graceful 
act  of  benevolence.  The  young  mother  had  thought  and  a  heart 
for  young  oqiluins, — of  gentility.  For  parentless  children  of  gentle 
blood  she  established  a  home  in  Bedfordshire.  At  the  head  of  the 
house  was  placed  a  lady  who,  with  many  comforts,  enjoyed  the 
liberal  salary  of  500/.  per  annum.  In  retuni  for  this  she  superin- 
tended the  instruction  of  the  young  ladies  (who  were  not  admitted 
till  they  had  attained  the  age  of  fifteen,— age  of  folly  and  of  fer- 
mentation,  as  some  one  has  called  it,)  in  embroidery.  The  first 
produce  of  their  taste  and  toil  was  the  property  of  their  patroness, 

Vol  II.— 4 


i 


50 


LIVES   OF  THE  (QUEENS  UF   ENGLAND. 


the  young  queen,  and  was  converted  into  ornaments  for  window 
curtains,  chairs,  sofas,  and  bed  iurniture  for  AVind-or  Castle  and 
the  ''  Queen's  House"  in  St.  James's  Park. 

This  was  perhaps  rather  a  calculating  benevolence;  but  the 
Queen  paid  500/.  a  year,  for  fifty  years  for  it,  and  her  majesty  was 
not  wanting  in  true  charity.  In  a  later  period  of  her  reign  than 
the  foundation  of  the  Bedford  refuge  for  genteel  embroideresses, 
the  middle  classes  of  Windsor  were  thrown  into  much  misery  by 
the  breaking  of  the  bank  there.  ]Many  individuals  of  the  class 
alluded  to  held  the  1/.  notes  of  this  bank ;  and  the  paper  had  now 
no  more  value  than  as  paper.  The  queen,  on  hearing  the  case, 
ordered  her  treasurer  to  give  cash  for  the.=e  notes,  on  their  being 
presented,  and  this  was  done  to  the  extent  of  400/.  Her  daughters 
acted  as  clerks,  and  never  was  there  so  hilarious  a  run  upon  the 
bank  as  on  this  roval  house  at  Windsor. 

There  was  less  joyousness  in  the  following  year,  when  the  "  Lady 
Augusta,"  the  sister  of  the  king,  married  the  hereditary  Prince  of 
Brunswick.  The  record  of  marriage,  which  produced  the  fourth 
of  the  Hanoverian  Queens  of  England, — and  of  its  solemnity  and 
attendant  festivities,  will  be  found  in  a  subsequent  page. 

The  year  170.")  opened  in  some  sense  auspiciously, — with  a  royal 
marriage.  Caroline  Matilda  was  the  posthumous  daughter  of  Fre- 
derick Prince  of  Wales,  and  was  born  in  July,  IT.')!.  The  terms 
of  her  marriage  with  Christian,  Crown  Prince  of  Denmark,  were 
settled  in  Januarv  of  this  year ;  but.  on  account  of  the  extreme 
youth  of  the  contractinii:  ]>arties,  tliev  were  not  carried  into  effect 
until  two  years  had  elapsed.  Meanwhile,  the  young  bride  who 
had  been  remarkable  for  her  beauty,  grace,  and  elegance, — and 
above  all  for  her  vivacitv — seemed  almost  to  fade  away,  so  ner- 
vously  anxious  did  -1"'  l)ecome  as  to  the  obligation  by  which  she 
was  bound,  and  it.-  j.^-sible  results.  Before  the  espousals  were 
completed,  her  atlianeed  husband  Imd  become  King  of  Denmark, 
and  when  Queen  Charlotte  congratulated  her  sister-in-law,  she  little 
thought  of  the  hard  fate  that  was  to  follow  upon  the  ceremony. 
Of  this  we  shall  speak  hereafter.  For  the  record  of  the  troubled 
political  history  of  the  times,  the  reader  is  referred  to  other  pages. 
As  for  the  following  year,  it  wa-  a  time  of  much  anxiety  and  dis- 


CHARLOITE  SOPHIA. 


51 


tress,  and  the  people  were  scarcely  good-humored  enough  in  1765, 
to  welcome  the  birth  of  a  third  prince,  in  the  person  of  WiUiara 
Henry,  afterwards  Duke  of  Clarence. 

The  reports  circulated  at  this  time  to  the  effect  that  the  queen 
interfered  in  state  affairs,  were  discredited  by  those  who  certainly 
did  not  lack  the  means  of  getting  at  the  truth.  The  rumor  ap- 
pears to  have  been  believed  by  Mr.  Stanhope,  but  Lord  Chester- 
field in  writing  to  his  son,  and  noticing  his  belief  in  the  jrood 
foundation  of  such  a  rumor,  says  : — ''  You  seem  not  to  know  the 
character  of  the  queen,  here  it  is.  She  is  a  good  woman,  a  good 
wife,  a  tender  mother,  and  an  unmeddling  queen.  The  king  loves 
her  as  a  woman,  but  I  verily  believe  has  never  yet  spoken  one 
word  to  her  about  business." 

The  reports  regarding  her  were  at  once  atrocious  and  absurd. 
They  were  the  falser  because  they  spoke  of  her  having  insisted  on 
a  repetition  of  her  marriage  ceremony  with  the  king,  and  that  the 
same  was  performed  by  Dr.  AVilmot  at  Kew  Palace.  The  motive 
for  this  proceeding  was  ascribed  to  the  alleged  fact  of  the  death  of 
Hannah  Lightfoot,  with  whom  rumor  was  resolved  that  the  king 
had  been  wedded,  and  that  now  a  legal  marriage  might  be  solem- 
nized between  the  queen  and  himself.  The  atrocity  of  rumor  was 
illustrated  by  a  report  that  in  consequence  of  an  attack  of  illness 
which  had  affected,  for  a  short  time,  the  king's  mental  faculties, 
the  queen,  armed  with  a  law  which  in  the  case  of  an  interruption 
in  the  exercise  of  the  royal  authority,  gave  a  power  of  regency  to 
the  queen,  or  other  member  of  the  royal  family,  assisted  by  a  coun- 
cil,— had  exercised  the  most  unlimited  sway  over  the  national 
affairs,  to  the  injury  of  the  nation. 

The  only  part  of  this  which  is  true  is  where  the  king's  illness  is 
referred  to.  That  he  had  been  mentally  affected  was  not  known 
beyond  the  palace,  and  to  but  a  very  few  within  it.  He  went 
with  the  queen  to  Richmond,  in  the  month  of  April,  announcing 
an  intention  to  spend  a  week  there ;  but  on  the  third  day,  he  ap- 
peared unexpectedly  at  the  levee,  held  by  the  queen.  This  was 
so  contrived,  in  order  to  prevent  a  crowd.  He  was  at  the  drawing- 
room  on  the  following  day,  and  at  chapel  on  Good  Friday.  He 
looked  pale,  but  it  was  the  fixed  plan  to  call  him  well,  and  far- 


52 


LIVES  OF  THE    QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


CnAHLOTTE   SOPHIA. 


53 


^ 


seeing  people  hoped  that  he  was  so.  His  lieahh.was  considered 
as  very  precarious,  Imt  what  was  chiefly  dreaded  was  a  con- 
sumption. 

.  He  acted  with  promptitude  in  this  matter,  by  going  down  to  the 
liouse  and  in  an  affecting  and  dignified  spirit  urging  the  necessity 
of  appointing  a  Regency,  in  case  of  some  accident  liappening  to 
himself  before   the   heir-apparent  should  become   of  age.      The 
struggle  on  this  bill  was  one  of  the  most  violent  that  had  ever  been 
carried  on  by  two  adverse  factions.     By  a  mere  juggle  practised 
on  the  king,  the  clauses  of  the  bill  passed  by  the  Lords,  after  some 
absurd  discussion  as  to  what  was  meant  by  "  the  royal  family,"  ex- 
cluded his  mother,  the  Princess  Dowager  of  Wales,  as  though  she 
were  not  a  member  of  it.     The  struggle  was  as  fierce  in  the  Com- 
mons, for  ministers  dreaded  lest  with  the  Princess  Dowager,  they 
might  get  her  protige  Lord  Bute  for  "  King  !'*     The  political  an- 
tagonists professed  a  super-excellence  of  what  they  did  not  possess, 
patriotism,  and  after  a  battle  of  personalities,  the  name  of  the 
Princess   Dowager  was  inserted  next  after  that  of  the  queen, 
(whom  some  were  desirous  to  exclude  altogether,^  as  capable,  with 
certain  assistance  named,  of  exercising  the  power  of  Regency,  and 
the  Lords  adopted  the  bill  which  came  to  them  thus  amended. 

The  queen,  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  observe,  had  no  o])portunity 
under  this  bill,  to  exercise  any  present  power,  had  she  been  ever 
so  inclined.  It  was  only  in  after  years  that  her  enemies  made  the 
accusation  against  her,  when  they  wanted  the  memory  which 
mendacious  persons  are  said  to  chiefly  require.  With  respect  to 
the  desired  omission  of  the  name  of  the  king's  mother  from  the 
regency,  it  was  fixing  on  her  a  most  unmerited  stigma.  The  at- 
tempt to  prove  that  she  was  not  of  the  royal  family'  was  to  say,  in 
other  words,  that  she  was  not  a-kin  to  her  own  son.  It  is  not 
known  whether  the  queen  herself  thought  so,  nor  did  people  care 
what  a  fiction  of  law  might  say  thereupon.  There  is  a  case  in 
Tristram  Shandy  which  shows  how  the  Dowager  Duchess  of  Suf- 
folk claimed  to  administer  to  her  deceased  son's  property,  as  next 
of  kin  ;— he  dying  intestate  and  childless.  The  claim  was  opposed 
by  the  half-sister  of  the  deceased,  daughter  of  the  old  duke 
by  a  former  wife.     She  maintained  that  she  was  next  of  kin,  and 


^ 


that  the  mother  was  not  kin  at  all  to  her  own  child.  The  law 
allowed  the  plea.  But — "  let  the  learned  say  what  they  will,  there 
must  certainly,  quotli  my  uncle  Toby,  have  been  some  sort  of  con- 
sanguinity between  the  Duchess  of  Suffolk  and  her  son. — The  vul- 
gar are  of  the  same  opinion,  quoth  Yorick,  at  this  hour ;" — and  so 
were  they  as  regarded  tlie  Princess  Dowager  and  her  son,  and  her 
name  wtis  accordingly  placed  next  to  that  of  Queen  Charlotte,  in 
the  new  Regency  Bill. 

There  is  little  more  of  personal  detail  connected  with  the  queen 
this  year  that  is  of  much  interest.  Her  eldest  son  already  wore  a 
long  list  of  titles,  had  been  honored  with  the  order  of  the  Garter, 
and  returned  brief  answers  to  loyal  deputations.  He  was  bom 
twice  a  Duke,  once  an  Earl  and  Baron,  and  Lord  High  Steward 
of  Scotland.  He  was  Duke  of  Cornwall  and  Rothsay,  Earl  of 
Carrick,  and  Baron  of  Renfrew ;  and  a  few  days  after  his  birth  his 
mother  had  smilingly  laid  upon  his  lap  the  patent  whereby  he  was 
created  Prince  of  Wales.*  His  brother  Frederick  had  been,  ere 
he  could  speak,  named  Bishop  of  Osnaburgli,  and  queen  and  king 
were  equally  hurt  by  the  **  Chapter "  who  acknowledged  their 
diocesan,  but  refused  to  entrust  to  him  their  responsible  guardian- 
ship of  the  episcopal  funds.  The  queen's  thoughts  were  drawn 
awav  from  this  matter  for  a  moment  by  the  birth  (already  noticed) 
of  William  Henry,  on  the  2 1st  of  August, — the  second  of  her 
children  destined  to  ascend  the  throne.  This  was  the  little  prince 
who  so  delighed  the  gO(xl  Mrs.  Chapone,  and  by  his  engaging 
ways,  won  the  heart  of  Dr.  Tliomas,  Bishop  of  Winchester. 

But  while  some  princes  were  flourishing,  others  were  fading. 
The  health  of  the  Duke  of  Cumberland,  the  dearly  loved  son  of 
Caroline,  had  long  been  precarious.  As  early  as  April  in  this 
year,  his  favorite  sister  Amelia,  now  residing  at  Gunnersbury,  had 
felt  much  alarm  on  his  account.  "  The  Duke  of  Cumberland  is 
actually  set  out  for  Newmarket  to-day ;  he,  too,  is  called  much 
better,  but  it  is  often  as  true  of  the  health  of  princes  as  of  their 
prisoners,  that  there  is  little  distance  between  each  and  their 
graves.     There   has   been  lately  a  fire   at   Gunnersbury  which 

*  An  error  has  been  committed  in  saying  he  was  born  Prince  of  Wales. 


54 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEEXS  OF   ENGLAND. 


CHARLOTTE   SOPHIA. 


55 


I 


bumed  four  rooms ;  her  servants  announced  it  to  Princess  Amelia 
with  that  wise  precaution  of  '  Madam,  do  not  be  frightened !' — ac- 
cordingly, she  was  territied.  When  they  told  her  the  truth,  she 
said,  'I  am  very  glad,  I  had  expectation  my  brother  was  dead.'"* 
The  expectation  seemed  natural.  A  few  months  more  only  were 
to  elapse  before  he  who  was  so  over-praised  for  his  generalship  at 
Culloden,  and  so  over-censured  for  his  severity  after  it,  was  sum- 
moned to  depart. 


CHAPTER  IV.  * 

BIRTHS,  DEATHS,  AND    MARRIAGES. 

The  favorite  son  of  Caroline,  and  the  favorite  brother  of  the 
Princess  Amelia,  died  on  the  last  day  of  October.  His  health  had 
long  been  precarious ;  he  had,  like  his  mother,  grown  extremely 
corpulent,  and  his  sight  had  nearly  perished.  Indeed  he  could 
only  see,  and  that  vjery  imperfectly,  with  one  eye, — and  yet  he  was 
comparatively  but  a  young  man ;  not  more  than  forty-four  years 
of  age.  His  course  of  life,  both  in  its  duties,  and  its  so-ciUled  plea- 
sures, had  made  an  old  man  of  him  before  his  time.  lie  had  had 
a  paralytic  stroke,  was  much  afilicted  with  asthma,  and  suffered 
continually  from  a  wound  in  the  leg,  which  He  had  received  in  his 
first  great  battle,  when  he  was  little  more  than  a  boy,  at  Dettingen, 
and  which  had  never  healed. 

He  was  born  when  his  mother  was  yet  Princess  of  Wales.  She 
loved  him  because  he  was  daring  and  original ;  qualities  which  he 
evinced  by  his  replies  to  her  when  she  was  lecturing  him  as  a  way- 
ward child.  For  the  same  reasons,  was  he  liked'' by  his  graiid- 
fatlier,  at  whose  awkward  English  the  graceless  grandson  la'Jighed 
loudly,  and  he  mimicked  it  admirably. 

It  is  not  astonishing  that  his  mother  loved  him,  for  as  he  rrrew 
in  years  he  grew  in  grace  and  dignity.     In  outward  bearing,  L  in 

*  Walpolti. 


i 


mental  endowments,  he  was  very  superior  to  his  brother,  the 
Prince  of  Wales :  he  was  gentlemanlike  without  affectation ;  and 
accomplished  without  being  vain  of  his  accomplishments.  There 
never  was  a  prince  so  poi)ular,  so  winning  in  his  ways,  as  William 
of  Cumberland  during  his  minority. 

He  was  but  twenty-two  years  of  age  when  he  accompanied 
George  II.  to  the  field,  and  shared  in  the  bloody  honors  of  the  day 
at  Dettingen.  The  honors  he  reaped  here,  however,  were  fatal  to 
him.  They  led  to  his  being  placed  in  chief  command  of  an  army, 
before  he  was  fitted  to  do  more  than  lead  a  brigade.  In  '45,  when 
the  French  invested  Touniay  under  ]\Iarshal  Saxe,  the  son  of  Au- 
rora Konigsmark,  the  Duke  of  Cumberland  was  placed  in  command 
of  the  English  and  Dutch  forces,  numerically  very  inferior  to  the 
foe,  and  charged  with  leading  them  to  force  the  enemy  to  raise  the 
siege.  The  attempt  was  made  in  the  great  battle  of  Fontenoy ; 
where  we  gained  a  victory,  and  yet  were  vanquished.  ^\Q  beat 
the  enemy,  but  through  want  of  caution,  exposed  ourselves  to  a 
cross-fire  of  batteries,  against  which  valor  was  impotent.  It  was 
the  "cavalry  charge"  at  Balaclava  on  a  larger  scale;  and  it  cost 
us  ten  thousand  men,  and  unmerited  loss  of  reputation. 

The  rose  which  had  fallen  from  his  chaplet  the  Duke  replaced 
at  Culloden,  where  he  fought  one  of  the  "  decisive  battles  of  the 
world,"  whereby  the  hopes  of  the  Stuarts  were  crushed  in  half  an  hour. 
The  stern  severity  of  the  young  general,  after  the  battle,  gave 
him  the  name  of  the  *' butcher."     It  was  a  name,  which  in  former 
times,  especially  in  France,  had  been  conferred  on  victors  who  had 
gained  renown  by  slaying  thousands  of  their  fellow-men.     The 
duke  was  not  ashamed  of  the  name.     He  wore  it  with  as  much 
complacency  as  though  it  had  been  a  decoration.     With  regard  to 
his  severities,  it  may  be  said  that  terrible  as  they  were,  they  had 
the  effect  of  deterring  men  from  rushing  into  another  rebellion, 
which  would  have  cost  more  blood  than  the  duke  ever  caused  to 
be  shed,  by  way  of  prevention.    Beneath  his  iron  heel  he  tramj.led 
out  the  emljers  that  lay  around  the  magazine.    He  saved  his  fiither's 
throne,  and  gained  eternal  infamy. 

But  not  from  his  contemporaries.     For  himself  and  his  troops 
the  popular  heart  beat  high  with  admiration  and  sympathy,  and 


i 


56 


LIVES  OF  TPIK   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


CHARLOTTE   SOPHIA. 


57 


t| 


while  the  public  hand  scattered  rewards  in  profuse  showers  upon 
the  array,  parliament  increased  the  duke's  reward,  and  colleges 
offered  him  their  presidential  chaii-s.  lie  was  familiarly  called 
"  the  Duke,"  as  Marlborough  had  been  before  him,  and  as  Welling- 
ton was  after  him.  The  [)roud  possession  of  the  empty  distinction 
seems  to  be  in  abeyance,  for  want  of  a  hero. 

If  prince  had  never  been  so  deservedly  jwpular,  so  may  it  be 
said  that  never  was  prince  so  justifiably  stripped  of  the  popular 
regard.  As  he  grew  in  manhood,  his  heart  became  hardened ;  he 
had  no  affection  for  his  family,  nor  fondness  for  the  army,  for  which 
he  had  affected  attachment.  When  his  brother  died,  pleasure,  not 
pain,  made  his  heart  throb,  as  he  sarcastically  exclaimed,  *'  It  is  a 
great  blow  to  the  country,  but  I  hope  it  will  recover  in  time."  The 
death,  if  it  did  not  place  him  next  to  the  throne,  at  least  gave  him 
hopes  of  being  Regent,  should  his  sire  die  ere  the  young  heir  was 
of  age. 

It  was,  however,  the  bloody  Mutiny  Act,  of  which  he  was  really 
the  author,  which  brought  upon  him  the  universal  execmtion. 
"  The  penalty  of  death,"  says  Wali)ole,  "  came  over  as  often  as  the 
curses  of  the  commination  on  Ash  Wednesday."  He  who  despised 
popularity,  was  philosophically  content  when  deprived  of  it.  lie 
was  dissolute,  and  a  gambler.  He  hated  marnage,  and  escaped 
from  being  united  with  a  Danish  princess,  by  the  adroit  mananivre 
of  getting  his  friends  to  insist  upon  a  large  settlement  from  the 
royal  father,  too  avaricious  to  grant  it. 

If  he  was  lashed  into  fury  by  his  name  being  omitted  from  the 
Regency  Bill,  he  was  more  sensitively  wounded  still,  by  being 
made  to  feel  that  English  uncles  had,  ere  this,  murdered  the 
nephews  who  were  heirs  to  the  throne.  He  was  incapable  of  the 
crime,  for  it  could  have  profited  him  nothing.  The  knowledge, 
however,  that  popular  opinion  stigmatized  him  as  being  capable 
of  committing  an  offence  so  sanguinary,  was  a  torture  to  him.  One 
day.  Prince  George,  his  nephew,  entered  his  room.  It  was  a  sol- 
dier's apartment  hung  with  arms.  He  took  down  a  splendid  sword 
to  exhibit  it  to  the  boy.  The  future  husband  of  Charlotte  turned 
pale,  evidently  suspecting  that  his  uncle  was  on  sanguinary  thoughts 
intent.     The  duke  was  dreadfully  shocked,  and  complained  to  the 


Princess  Dowager  of  Wales,  that  scandalous  prejudices  had  been 
instilled  into  the  child  against  him. 

In  1757  he  reluctlantly  assumed  the  command  of  the  army  com- 
missioned to  rescue  Hanover  from  the  threatened  invasion  of  the 
French.     His  opponent  was  Marshal  D'Etries,  from  before  whom 
he  fell  back  at  the  Rhine,  and  to  whom  he  disgracefully  surren- 
dered   Hanover,   by   the   infamous   convention   of  Klosterseyen. 
When  the  king  saw  him  enter  Kensington  Palace,  after  his  per- 
emptory  recall,  the  monarch  exclaimed,  "  Behold  the  son  who  has 
ruined  me  and  disgraced  himself!"     That  son,  who  declared  he 
had  written-order^  for  all  he  did,  and  who  certainly  was  invested 
whh  very  full  powers,  resigned  all  his  posts  ;  and  the  hero  of  Det- 
tincren,  and  pacificator  of  North  Britain,  became  a  private  gentle- 
man, and  took  to  dice,  racing,  and  oUier  occupations  natural  then, 
or  common  at  least,  to  gentlemen  with  more  money  than  sense  or 
principle.     There  is  a  good  trait  remembered  of  him  at  this  period 
of  his  career.     He  had  dropped  and  lost  his  pocket-book  at  New- 
market ;  and  he  declined  to  make  any  more  bets,  saying,  "  he  had 
lost  money  enough  for  that  day."     In  the  evening  the  book  was 
broucrht  to  him  by  a  half-pay  officer  who  had  picked  it  up.    "  Pray 
keep°it,  sir,"  said  the  duke,  "  for  if  you  had  not  found  it,  the  con- 
tents would,  before  this,  have  been  in  the  hands  of  the  blacklegs." 
Another  favorable  trait  was  his  desire  to  give  commissions  to  men 
who  earned  them  on  the  field.     He  felt  that  while  any  "fool' 
mi-ht  purchase  a  commission,  it  was  hard  to  keep  it  back  from  the 
ma°n  who  had  fought  for  it.     He  once  promoted  a  sergeant  to  an 
ensigncy,  and  finding  him  very  coolly  treated  by  his  brother  offi- 
cers^the  duke  refused  to  dine  with  Lord  Ligonier,  unless— point- 
in-  to  the  ensign-he  might  bring  his  "friend"  with  him.     This 
reco<Tnition  settled  the  question. 

The  duke  cheated  by  his  father's  will,  and  sneered  at  by  Mar- 
shal Saxe ;  with  no  reputation  but  for  bravery,  and  no  merit  a^  a 
country  gentleman,  but  that  of  treating  his  laborers  with  some  hb- 
erality,  lived  on  as  contentedly  as  though  he  were  quietly  enjoying 
all  possible  honor.  On  the  morning  of  the  31st  of  October  he  had 
been  to  court,  an^  had  conversed  cheerfully  with  Queen  Charlotte. 
It  was  the  last  time  she  ever  beheld  him.    He  subsequently  dmed 

4* 


I 


58 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


in  Arlington  Street,  with  Lord  Albemarle,  and  appeared  in  good 
health,  although  the  day  before,  when  playing  at  picquet  with 
General  Hodgr«on,  he  had  been  confused  and  mistook  his  cards. 
Early  in  the  evening,  he  was  at  his  town-house,  54,  Upper  Gros- 
venor  Street,  when  the  Duke  of  Newcastle  and  Lord  Northington 
called  upon  him.  As  they  entered  the  room,  he  was  seized  with  a 
suffocation.  One  of  his  valets,  who  was  accustomed  to  bleed  him, 
was  called,  and  prepared  to  tie  up  his  arm,  but  the  duke  exclaimed 
"It  is  all  over!"  and  immediately  expired,  in  Lord  Albemarle's 
arms. 

Thus  died  the  favorite  son  of  Caroline  of  Anspach,  to  place  a 
crown  on  whose  brow  she  would  have  sacrificed  her  own  life.  He 
was  an  indifferent  general,  who  outlived  the  reputation  he  acquired 
at  CuUoden,  where  it  was  physically  impossible  that  he  should  be 
beaten.  Where  to  be  vanquished  was  possible  he  never  had  the 
good  luck  of  being  victor.  But  he  cared  as  little  for  fame  as  he 
did  for  money ;  and  his  neglect  in  the  latter  case  is  testified  by 
the  fact  that  nearly  eighteen  hundred  pounds,  in  bank-notes,  was 
found  in  the  pocket  of  one  of  his  cast-off  suits,  of  which  a  present 
had  been  made  after  the  duke's  death,  to  one  of  his  hussars.  The 
hussar  had  the  honesty  to  return  the  money. 

The  king  behaved  with  appropriate  delicacy  on  this  occasion. 
When  Lord  Albemarle,  the  duke's  executor,  presented  to  the  kinnr 
the  key  of  his  uncle's  cabinet,  George  IIL  returned  it,  biddin- 
Lord  Albemarle  use  his  own  discretion  in  examining  all  private 
papers,  and  in  destroying  all  such  as  the  duke  himself  probably 
would  not  have  wished  to  be  made  public.  On  the  28th  of  Decem- 
ber, the  death  of  his  majesty's  youngest  brother,  Prince  Frederick 
at  the  early  age  of  sixteen  years,  threw  additional  gloom  in  the 
circle  of  the  royal  family.  At  least,  so  say  the  journalists  of  the 
pei-iod. 

At  this  time,  the  king  and  queen  resided  chiefly  at  Richmond,  in 
very  modest  state,  and  with  very  few  servants.  Their  chief  amuse- 
ment  amid  the  turmoil  of  politics  and  the  crush  of  factions,  con- 
sisted  m  -  gomg  about  to  see  places,"  as  Walpole  describes  their 
visits  to  such  localities  as  Oatlands  and  Wanstead ;  and  the  "  call" 
of  the  Queen  at  Strawberry  Hill,  >vhich  the  sovereign  lady  could 


CHARLOTTE  SOPHIA. 


59 


not  see,  for  the  sufficient  reason  that  the  sovereign  lord  was  in  bed, 
and  unable  to  perform  the  necessary  honors. 

The  youngest  daughter  of  Frederick  Prince  of  Wales,  was 
married  by  proxy  on  the  1st  of  October,  17CG,  in  the  Chapel  lloyal, 
St.  James's,  to  Christian  VIL,  King  of  Denmark.  Queen  Char- 
lotte was  not  present,  she  having  given  birth  only  two  days 
previously,  to  Charlotte  Augusta,  Princess  Royal  and  subsequently 
Queen  of  Wirtemburg. 

The  King  of  Denmark  was  an  exceedingly  small,  but  not  an  ill- 
made,  a  weakly,  not  an  ill-favored  man.  His  cliaracter  was, 
however,  in  every  respect  detestable,  and  when  poor  Caroline 
Matilda  passed  on  in  tears  amid  the  congratulationsof  the  court  of 
Queen  Charlotte,  her  tears  were  better  founded  than  their  smiles. 
She  was  speedily  treated  with  cruelty,  imd  abandoned  at  home 
while  her  lord  travelled  in  foreign  countries  and  indulged  in. pro- 
fligacy. Queen  Charlotte  accorded  him  a  more  hearty  reception, 
when  he  came  over  to  England,  two  years  subsequent  to  the  mar- 
ria<^e,  than  he  deserved.  At  that  time  his  absurdly  pompous  airs 
were  the  ridicule  of  the  circle  at  the  queen's  and  at  Cailtou  House, 
the  residence  of  the  Princess  Dowager  of  Wales. 

After  spending  some  years  in  travel,  he  returned,  neither  a  wiser 
nor  a  better  man,  to  Denmark.     In  his  suite  was  the  German  phy- 
sician, Struensee.     This  man  enjoyed  his  master's  utmost  confi- 
dence.    He  soon  gained  that  of  the  young  queen  also,  who  sought 
by  his  means,  to  be  reconciled  to  the  king.     He  was  on  the  other 
liand,  hated  by  the  queen-mother  and  other  branches  of  the  royal 
family  ;  particularly  in  his  character  of  reformer  of  political  abuses. 
They  contrived  to  overthrow  him,    procured  a  warrant  for  his 
execution  from  the  king,  and  involved  the  young  queen  in  his  ruin, 
on  the  ground  of  an  improper  familiarity  between  them.     The 
triumphant  enemies  of  Struensee  would  have  put  Caroline  Matilda 
also  to  death,  but  for  the  appearance  in  the  Baltic  of  a  British  fleet 
under  Admiral  Keith,  by  whom  she  was  carried  off  to  Zell,  where 
she  died  in  177:),  neglected,  unhappy,  and  under  the  weight  of 
accusation  of  a  charge,  of  which  she  has  never  been  i)roved  guilty. 
It  may  be  stated  here  that  of  all  the  children  of  Frederick, 
Pnncc  of  Wales,  George  III.  can  be  said  to  have  been  the  only 


60 


LIVES   OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


CHARLOTTE   SOPHIA. 


61 


\ 


one  happily  married.     The  second  son,  William  Ilenrj-,  the  amia- 
ble, assiduous,  brave,  but  not  over-accomplished  Duke  of  Gloucester 
(bom  in  1743),  scandalized  Queen  Charlotte  and  the  court  by  a 
mesalliance  which  he  contracted  in   1766,  with  Maria,  Countess 
Dowager  of  Waldegrave.     This  marriage  was  not  indeed  especially 
unhappy  to  the  contractors  of  it,  except   inasmuch  as  they  were 
embarrassed  by  being  obliged  for  some  time  to  keep  it  secret,  and 
that  when  discovered,  the  royal  husband  and  his  noble  wife  were 
for  a  long  period  banished  from  court.     They  resided  during  a 
portion  of  their  time  of  exile,  in  Italy;  and  at  Rome,  the  pope 
himself  had  so  much  esteem  for  the  prince,  that  his  Holiness,  on 
one  occasion,  declined  to  take  precedence  of  him  when  their  car- 
riages encountered  in  the  streets.     The  holy  father  drew  on  one 
side,  and  courteously  waited  while  the  prince,  in  obedience  to  the 
bidding  of  the  Universal  Bishop,  passed  on.     The  children  of  this 
union  were  subsequently  acknowledged  as  the  legal  heirs  of  their 
parents.     The  duke  died  hi  1805. 

The  third  son  of  Frederick,  Prince  of  Wales,  Henry,  Duke  of 
Cumberhmd  (after  the  death  of  his  uncle  "  the  Duke  "),  born  in 
1744,  more  grievously  offended  Queen  Charlotte  by  a  mesalliance 
♦han  his  brother.  lie  was  fierce  of  temper,  frivolous  of  character, 
and  foppish  in  his  dress.  This  was  at  a  later  period  than  that 
portion  of  the  reign  of  George  and  Chariotte,  at  which  we  have 
arrived,  but  I  have  thought  it  well  to  class  the  amours  of  the  chil- 
dren  of  Frederick  and  Augusta  together. 

In  the  year  1770,  the  attention^^of  the  duke  to  Lady  Grosvenor 
were  so  marked,  and  so  ridiculous,  that  everybody  talked  about 
them,   except  her  husband.     The  lady,  when  a  Miss  Vernon,  had 
been  first  seen  by  Lord  Grosvenor,  as  they  were  leaving  Kensing- 
ton Gardens,  flying  under  sudden  and  heavy  rain.     He  looked  at 
and  pitied  the  cap^svoi  ofX;'3p£^opoi,  the  shower-bearing  nymphs,  as 
Aristophanes  styles  maidens  so  molested,  and  he  offered  them'  an 
asylum  in  his  carriage.     Soon  af^er,  Miss  Vernon  was  the  married 
mistress  of  his  house,  and  the  union  would  have  been  a  happy  one, 
had  not  the  foohsh  prmce  appeared  to  disturb  it.     He  speedily 
contrived  to  seduce  Lady  Grosvenor  from  her  duty.     He  followed 
her  about  in  disguises,  often  betraying  himself  by  his  fopperies  and 


I 


imbecility,  slept  whole  nights  in  woods  like  any  Corydon  not  sub- 
ject to  the  infirmities  of  nature,  and  subsequently  had  10,000/.  to 
pay  for  the  ruin  he  brought  to  Lord  Grosvenor's  hearth.  But  this 
guilt  did  not  so  much  flurry  Queen  Charlotte  as  the  marriage  of  the 
duke  in  a  following  year  with  "  JNIrs.  Horton,"  a  widow.  The  lady 
was  the  "  Ludy  Anne  Luttrell,"  daughter  of  Lord  Carhampton, 
and  was  much  older  than  the  senseless  and  coarse-muided  prince, 
her  husband. 

This  act  of  folly  caused  him  to  be  permanently  banished  from 
court.  The  queen  would  never  consent  to  a  reconciliation,  and  the 
king  to  prevent  such  unions  in  future,  brought  in  the  Royal  Mar- 
riage Act.  By  this  act,  no  prince  or  princess  of  the  blood  could 
marry  without  consent  of  the  sovereign,  before  the  age  of  twenty- 
five.  After  that  age,  the  royal  sanction  was  still  to  be  applied  for, 
but  if  withheld,  the  prince  or  princess  had  a  resource  in  the  privy 
council.  To  this  body  the  name  of  the  individual  to  whom  the 
English  member  of  the  royal  family  desired  to  be  married,  was  to 
be  given,  and  if  parliament  made  no  objection  within  the  year,  the 
enamored  parties  were  at  liberty  to  enter  into  the  holy  bond  of 
matrimony.  Queen  Charlotte,  who  was  exceedingly  "  nice "  on 
such  matters,  thought  that  she  at  least  prevented  all  such  alliances 
among  her  own  children.  She  little  thought  how  one  of  her  sons 
would  twice  offend. 

The  duke  died  childless,  and  a  widower,  in  1790,  but  a  paternity 
derived  from  him  was  claimed  by  "Olivia  Serres,"  who  professed 
to  be  the  daughter  of  a  second  marriage.  Her  claim  was  never 
heeded,  but  within  the  recollection  of  many  of  us,  she  used  to 
patronize  the  cheaper  minor  theatres,  whose  bills  announced  her 
presence  as  that  of  "  H.  K.  II.  the  Princess  Olivia  of  Cumberland." 
She  w.'is  as  much  a  princess  as  the  counterfeits  upon  the  stage,  but 
not  more  so. 

There  are  two  more  children  of  Frederick  yet  to  be  mentioned. 
These  are  Edward,  Duke  of  York,  the  second  son,  born  in  1739, 
and  the  Princess  Louisa  Anne,  bom  ten  years  later.  Neither  of 
these  were  married.  A  report  nevertheless  was  long  prevalent, 
that  the  weak  (he  voted  against  ministers  on  the  American  Stamp 
Act)  but  witty  duke  was  privately  married  to  a  lady  at  Monaco, 


62 


LIVES  OF  TUE   QUEENS  OF   ENGLAND. 


where  he  died  in  17G7.  The  Princess  Louisa,  his  sister,  was 
almost  from  her  birth  the  victim  of  slow  consumption,  which  finally 
ended  her  life  when  she  was  in  the  eighteenth  year  of  her  age. 

A  circumstance  occurred  in  1767,  which  was  not  advantageous 
to  the  memory  or  reputation  of  Queen  Caroline,  and  which  did  not 
raise  her  in  the  opinion  of  Queen  Charlotte.     In  th*  year  just 
named,  the  Duchess  of  Brunswick's  repositories  were  examined  by 
her  executors,  and  among  other  things  discovered  therein,  were 
not  less  than  eight  hundred  letters  addressed  by  the  Duchess  of 
Orleans,  second  wife  of  the  brother  of  Louis  XIV.,  to  Caroline 
Wilhemina  Dorothea,  Princess  of  Wales,  and  to  Ulric  Duke  of 
Brunswick.     From  this  conespondence,  selections  have  been  pub- 
lished which  have  disgusted  most  persons  who  have  read  them. 
The  portions  suppressed  must  have  been  editying  indeed.     But 
even  if  no  more  had  come  under  the  eyes  of  the  wife  of  George 
Augustus,  than  what  iniblishers  have  ventured  to  print,  there  would 
still  be  evidence  enough  to  show  that  although  Caroline  conversed 
with  philosophers,  her  mind  could  descend  to  be  dragged  through 
the  filthiest  i)ollution.     There  was  not  much  refinemt^iU  in  the  age, 
it  is  true,  but  impure  as  it  may  have  been,  the  fact  that  Carolhie' 
could  submit  to  have  such  letters  addressed  to  her,  or  to  read  a 
second,  is  proof  that  it  was  more  radically  rotten  and  profoundly 
unclean  than  has  been  generally  supposed. 

The  most  interesting  domestic  event  of  the  following  year  was 
the  juvenile  drawing-room,  held  by  the  Prince  of  Wales  and  the 
Princess  Royal.  The  boy,  heir-apparent,  was  perhaps  too  early 
mitiated  mto  the  solemnities  of  festivals  and  gorgeous  ceremonies. 
On  this  occasion,  he  was  attired  in  a  crimson  suit,  his  brother  of 
York  in  one  of  blue  and  gold,  while  the  Princess  Roval  and  the 
younger  branches  of  the  family  were  grouped  together  on  a  «ofa 
m  Roman  togas.  Tlie  happy  mother  looked  upon  them  with  de^ 
light,  and  thought  the  scene  worthy  of  a  painter.  The  iniblic  did 
not  share  the  enthusiasm,  nor  approve  of  the  royal  t«a.ste  for  ex])en- 
sive  displays;  and  when  the  youthful  Prince  of  Wales  gave  a  bill 
and  supper  this  year  at  the  Queen's  House,  the  mob  broke  into  the 
court-yard,  drove  a  hearse  round  it,  and  saluted  the  revellers,  old 


CHARLOTTE   SOPHIA. 


63 


and  young,  with  any  thing  but  shouts  of  compliment  or  congratu- 
lation. 

But  if  the  town  life  of  the  royal  family  was  one  of  considerable 
display,  private  life  at  Kew  was  of  the  very  simplest  aspect. 
Their  majesties  were  early  risers,  an  example  which,  forcible  as 
the  fashion  is  which  royalty  deigns  to  offer,  was  not  followed  very 
generally,  even  by  their  own  household,  except  such  persons  whose 
services  were  needed.  A  king  and  queen  rising  at  six,  and  spend- 
ing the  first  two  hours  of  the  day,  emphatically  as  their  own,  undis- 
turbed by  business  of  state,  afforded  a  singular  spectacle  to  those 
who  could  remember  the  indolent  habits  of  the  late  court,  for  it 
was  only  on  rare  occasions  that  George  II.  was  an  early  riser. 
Caroline  was  never  so  by  choice.  At  eight  o'clock  there  was  a 
joyous  family  breakfast,  at  which  the  sovereigns  were  surrounded 
by  the  Prince  of  Wales,  the  Bishop  of  Osnaburgh,  as  the  second 
son  was  called,  before  he  was  created  Duke  of  York,  the  Princes 
William  and  Edward,  and  the  Princess  Royak  At  this  morning 
festival  the  children  were  not  bound  to  the  silence  which  tliey 
always  observed  in  presence  of  their  i)arets,  in  public.  After 
breakfiist,  the  younger  children  were  brought  in,  and  with  these 
the  king  and  queen  spent  an  hour  of  amusement,  while  the  elder 
prhices  were  away  at  exercise  of  body  or  mind. 

Queen  Charlotte  generally,  and  often  in  company  with  the  king, 
presided  at  the  children's  early  dinner.  Such  attendance  was  the 
forerunner  of  the  early  dinners  which  the  king  subsequently  took, 
himself.  Then  there  was  a  weekly  holiday  passed  by  the  whole 
family  in  Richmond  Gardens.  This  was  in  some  sort,  a  continua- 
tion of  a  custom  commenced  by  George  II.  His  custom,  however, 
had  not  so  pure  a  motive  as  that  observed  by  George  IH.  and 
Queen  Charlotte,  who  took  innocent  delight  in  witnessing  innocent 
enjoyment.  In  the  cottage  there,  erected  from  her  own  design, 
she  would  ply  the  needle,  (Queen  Adelaide  was  not  a  more  inde- 
fatigable worker),  while  the  king  read  aloud  to  her,  generally  from 
8hakspeai*e.  The  sovereign  loved  the  poet  as  deeply  as  the  great 
Duke  of  Marlborough  did,  who  knew  nothing  of  English  history, 
save  what  he  had  gathered  from  the  not  altogether  indisputable 
authority  of  the  great  poet.  '•  Whatever  cliarms,"  says  an  ^-observ- 


64 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS    OF  ENGLAND. 


er,"  with  more  enthusiasm  than  elegance,  "  ambition  or  folly  may 
conceive  to  surround  so  exalted  a  station,  it   is  neither  on  the 
throne  nor  in  the  drawing-room,  in  the   splendor  or  the  joys  of 
sovereignty,  that  the  king  and  queen  place  their  felicity.     It  is  in 
social  and  domestic  gratifications,  in  breathing  tlie  free  air,  admirin"- 
the  works  of  nature,  tasting  and  encouraging  the  elegancies  of  art, 
and  in  living  without  dissipation.     In  the  evening,  all  the  children 
pay  their  duty  at  Kew  House  before  retiring  to  bed ;  after  which  the 
king  reads  to  her  majesty ;  and  having  closed  the  day  with  a  joint 
act  of  devotion,  they  retire  to  rest.     This  is  the  order  of  each  re- 
volving day,  with  such  exceptions  as  are  unavoidable  in  their  high 
stations.  ° 

*'  Tlie  sovereign  is  the  father  of  the  family ;  not  a  grievance 
reaches  his  knowledge  that  remains  unredressed,  nor  a  chai-acter  of 
merit  or  ingenuity  disregarded ;  his  private  conduct,  therefore,  is 
as  exemplary  as  it  is  amiable." 

Alexander  Young,  referring  to  the  period  when  the  Prince  of 
Wales  was  not  above  twelve  years  old,  furnishes  us  with  a  picture 
that  represents  the  queen's  sons  as  so  many  Cincinnati  at  the 
plough,  or  rather,  like   Domitian,  cultivating  cabbages ;  only  that 
he  did  not  take  to  the  healthy  pursuit  until  he  had  lost  a  throne 
whereas  the  English  heir-apparent  had  not  yet  gained  one.     The 
young  princes  were,  perhaps,  more  like  the  royalty  of  Cathav 
whose  greatest  glory  was  to  cultivate   the  soil,  and  delude  itselV 
into  the  idea  that  it  was  being  useful  to  mankind.     Nevertheless 
the  royal  pursuits  of  the  Prince  of  Wales  and  his  brother  of  York 
were  harmless,  at  least.    "  A  spot  of  ground  in  the  garden  at  Kew 
was  dug  by  his  royal  highness  the  Prince  of  Wales  and  his  brother 
the  Duke  of  York,  who  sowed  it  with  wheat,  attended  the  growth 
of  their  little  crop,  weeded,  reaped,  and  harvested  it,  solely  by 
themselves.    They  thrashed  out  the  com  and  separated  it  from  the 
cliaff ;  and  at  this  period  of  their  labor  were  brou-jit  to  reflect 
from  their  own  experience,  upon  the  various  labors  and  attention 
of  the  husbandman   and  farmer.      The  princes  not  only  raised 
their  own  crop,  but  they  also  ground  it,  and  having  parted  the 
bran  from  the  meal,  attended  the  whole  process  of  making,  it  into 
bread,  which  it  may  well  be  imagined,  was  eaten  with  no  slight 


CHARLOTTE  SOPHIA. 


65" 


relish.  The  king  and  queen  partook  of  the  philosophical  repast, 
and  beheld  with  pleasure  the  very  amusements  of  their  children 
rendered  the  source  of  useful  knowledge." 

The  second  son  of  Charlotte  was  not  very  far  advanced  in  his 
teens  when  he  carried  his  love  of  rustic  pursuits,  to  rustic  persons. 
lie  so  especially  admired  one  cottage  beauty,  in  the  neighborhood 
of  Kew  or  Windsor,  that  his  absences  from  home  became  rather 
too  numerous  and  too  prolonged,  to  escape  notice.  The  royal 
truant  Avas  less  narrowly  watched,  than  strictly  looked  after,  upon 
being  missed.  On  one  of  these  occasions,  something  more  power- 
ful than  conjecture,  took  the  inquirers  to  a  certain  cottage  door ; 
and  on  looking  into  the  room  upon  which  it  opened,  there  sat  the 
second  son  of  Queen  Charlotte,  Duke  of  York  and  Bishop  of 
Osnaburgh,  ujwn  a  wooden  stool,  shelling  peas.  Ilis  pretty  com- 
panion did  not  appear  to  be  so  angrily  disposed  against  him,  as 
the  old  Saxon  dame  was  against  the  prince  in  her  cottage,  who 
found  refuge  at  her  hearth,  and  burned  all  her  cakes  to  cinders. 

Reference  has  been  made  before,  to  the  patronage  which  both 
Queen  Charlotte  and  King  George  extended  to  art.  Their  pa- 
tronage of  painters  was  not,  generally  speaking,  on  a  liberal  scale. 
They  requested  Paton  to  bring  to  the  palace,  for  their  inspection, 
the  naval  pictures,  hitended  ibr  Saint  Petersburg!!.  The  artist 
obeyed,  but  at  a  cost  of  fifty  i)ounds  for  carriage.  He  was  repaid 
iii  thanks,  but  he  received  no  pecuniary  compensation.  On  an- 
other occasion,  twenty-five  pounds  was  given  to  an  artist  for  a 
picture  worth  four  times  the  sum.  The  artist  had  a  friend  in  Dr. 
Waloot,  and  the  satires  of  Peter  Pindar,  avenged  the  disappointed 
painter. 

It  was  the  excuse  of  both  king  and  queen,  that  their  increasing 
family  prevented  them  from  exercising  all  the  liberality  they  could 
wish.  However  the  fact  may,  or  may  not,  have  influenced  the 
plea,  it  could  not  be  denied  that  the  circle  round  the  royal  hearth 
was  annually  enlarging.  In  1767  was  bom  Edward,  afterwards 
Duke  of  Kent :  and  in  the  following  year,  the  Princess  Augusta 
Sophia.  At  this  period,  the  old  custom  was  still  observed  of  admit- 
ting the  public  to  "  cake  and  caudle."  Among  the  loyal  young 
ladies  who  flocked  to  the  palace  to  see  the  infant  princess,  were 


66 


LIVES   OF  THE    QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


two  who  partook  so  plentitully  of  the  caudle  as  to  lose  their  discre- 
tion, and  to  walk  away  with  the  cup  in  tlieif  keeping.     They  were 
detected,  and  were  pardoned,  after  kneeling  to  a^k  for  forgiveness. 
The  inequality  in  the  application  of  the  law  was  as  marked  then 
as  it  is  now.     Petty  larcenists  of  high  birth,  as  these  young  ladies 
were,  were  permitted  to  escape ;  not  so  a  jKwr  Sarali  \vil>on,  who 
yielding  to  a  strong  temi.tation  in  the  year  1771,  iilched  one  or 
two  of  the  queen's  jewels,  and  was  condemned  to  be  executed.     It 
was  considered  almost  a  violation  of  justice  that  the  thief  should 
be  saved  from  the  halter,  and  be  tran>i)oi-ted  instead  of  hanged. 
She  was  sent  to  America,  where  she  was  allotted  as  slave  or  serv- 
ant, to  a  Mr.   Dwale,    liud   Creek,   Frederick    County.     Queen 
Charlotte  would  have  thought  nothing  more  of  her,  had  her  ma- 
jesty not  heard,  with  some  surprise,  that  her  sister,  Susannah 
Carohne  Matilda,  was  keeping  her  court  in  the  plantations.    Never 
was  suquise  more  genuine  than  the  queen's;  it  was  exceeded  only 
by  her  liilarity,  when  it  was  discovered  that  the  Princess  Susannah 
was  simply  Sarah  Wilson,  at  large.     That  somewliat  clever  gu-1, 
havmg  stolen  a  queen's  jewels,  thought  nothing,  after  escaping 
from  the  ])enal  service  to  which  she  was  condemned,  of  passing 
herself  olF  as  a  queen's  sister.     The  Americans  were  not  so  acute 
as  their  descendants  ;  so  in  love  were  some  of  them  witli  the  t'reat- 
ness  they  atiected  to  desi)ise,  that  they  paid  royal  honors  to  the 
clover  inqwstor.    She  passed  the  most  joyous  of  seasons  before  she 
was  consigned  again  to  increase  of  penahy,  for  daring  to  pretend 
relationship  witii  the  consort  of  King  George.     The  slorv  of  the 
pi-esuming  girl,  wlio.^e  escapades,  however,  were  not  fidly  known 
in  Kngland  at  the  time,  served,  as  fur  as  knowledge  of  tiiem  had 
reached  the  court,  to  amuse  the  *•  gossips"  who  had  assembled  in 
1770,  about  the  cradle  of  the  young  Elizabeth,  and  still  more, 
those  who  in  the  following  year  greeted  the  new  prince,  Ernest 
one  of  the  three  sons  of  Charlotte  destined  to  wear  a  crown. 

The  fourth  daughter  of  Caroline  and  George  II.  died  on  the 
14th  of  June  in  this  year,  1771.  She  was  born  on  the  22nd  Feb- 
ruary, 172u.  Before  she  had  comj)leted  her  eighteenth  year,  she 
was  married  to  Frederick,  Prince  of  Ilesse,  a  man  whose  naturally 
brutal  temperament  was  rendered  still  more  brutal,  after  his  pa>s- 


CHARLOTTE  SOPHIA. 


67 


ing  over  from  Protestantism  to  Romanism.  This  aggravation  of 
a  naturally  bad  temper  was  not  the  immediate  result  of  the  change 
of  reli'^ion,  but  of  the  political  restrictions  to  which  such  change 
subjected  him.  Never  had  wife  a  more  vicious  and  unfeeling  hus- 
band than  poor  ^lary :  never  had  husband  a  more  submissive  and 
uncomplaining  wife  than  Frederick  of  Hesse.  His  death  relieved 
her  of  a  most  inhuman  tyrimt,  and  her  last  days  were  spent  in  a 
happy  tranquillity. 

The  person  of  her  majesty  at  this  period  is  described  as  having 
been  easy  and  graceful,  rather  than  striking  or  majestic.  They 
who  could  not  call  her  handsome,  which  she  never  was,  (Lord  Har- 
court's  testimony  of  her  being  ^'Afne  girl"  having  nothing  to  do 
with  beauty  of  feature),  compromised  the  matter  by  describing  the 
contour  of  her  face  as  delicate  and  pleasing.  Her  well-shaped 
forehead,  and  her  beautiful  teeth,  no  inconsiderable  items  in  a  face, 
were  her  chief  beauties.  Her  bright  chestnut-colored  hair  would 
have  been  an  additional  beauty  to  have  been  reckoned,  but  that  it 
was  generally  hidden  under  thick  layers  of  powder — as  long,  at 
least,  as  powder  was  in  fashion.  Of  her  hands  and  arms  the  royal 
lady  was  proud  to  a  very  late  i)eriod  of  her  life ;  and  amateurs,  in 
the  early  term  of  her  reign,  eulogized  the  beauties  of  a  neck,  which 
soon  very  well  bore  the  discreet  veil  with  which  it  was  wisely  and 
modestly  covered.  Her  countenance  was  naturally  benignant, 
e..cept  when  flushed,  as  it  could  sometimes  be,  by  an  offended  feel- 
ing: and  it  was  naturally  pallid,  **  except,"  says  an  anonymous 
writer,  '•  (which  happened  not  unfrequently),  when  a  blush  of  difl[i- 
dence  suffused  her  modest  cheek." 

The  succeeding  year  to  that  hist-named  brought  mourning  with 
it,  for  the  death  of  the  mother  of  George  III.  We  have  already 
traced  the  distinctive  outlines  of  the  married  life  of  Augusta.  On 
the  death  of  her  husband,  she  was  appointed  the  chief  guardian  of 
her  eldest  son,  in  case  of  the  demise,  before  that  son's  majority,  of 
the  king,  his  grandfiUher.  In  the  meantime,  she  was  really  his 
guardian,  during  that  king's  lifetime.  This  office,  however,  she 
shared  with  Lord  Bute,  who,  according  to  the  scandal-mongers,  waa 
less  attached  to  the  pupil  than  to  the  pupil's  mother.  Of  this 
attachment,  the  Prince  of  Wales  himself  is  said  to  have  had  full 


68 


LIVES   OF  THE    QUEENS   OF   ENGLAND. 


knowledge,  and  did  not  object  to  Lord  Bute  taking  solitary  walks 
with  the  princess,  while  he  could  do  the  same  with  Lady  Middle- 
sex. However  this  may  be,  the  princess  and  Lord  Bute  kept  the 
Prince  George  in  very  strict  seclusion  after  his  father's  death. 
The  future  husband  of  Charlotte  had,  however,  abundance  of 
teachers,  but  a  paucity  of  instruction.  One  taught  him  ''deportment" 
another  imbued  him  with  Jacobitism.  Dr.  Thomas  did  honestly 
his  little  ineffective  best.  Lord  Bute  superintended  Dr.  Thomas, 
and  the  princess  said  the  boy  was  slow,  and  the  masters  indif- 
ferent. 

The  boy  would  probably  have  been  an  accomplished  scholar, 
had  his  preceptors  been  more  careful  in  their  training.     There 
was  the  stufsxnd  also  the  taste  in  him;  but  he  was  neglected,  and 
the  lost  ground  wius  never  recovered.    His  affection  for  his  mother 
was  strong,  and  she  deserved  it.     She  was  not  a  favorite  with  the 
people,  and  she  did  ?iot  deserve  her  unpopularity.     George  III. 
and  Queen  Charlotte  visited  her  regularly  every  evening  at  eight 
o'clock.     After  one  of  these  filial  visits,  in  February,  1772,  when 
her  health  had  been  long  declining,  she  expressed  a  hope  that  she 
might  pass  a  good  night.     The  hope  was  fulfdled,  but  death  came 
in  the  morning.    Never  was  woman  more  praised  or  censured  than 
she.     Her  meiit  lay,  perhaps,  between  botii.    Her  son  adored  her, 
Queen  Charlotte  respected  lier,  and  a  commercial  country  .-hould 
reverence  the  memory  of  a  woman  who,  out  of  her  own  jointure, 
paid  oft"  all  the  debts  which  her  husband  left  at  his  decease. 

The  deaths  of  women  of  less  note  caused  some  conversation  in 
Queen  Charlotte's  circle,  soon  after  the  demise  of  the  Princess 
Dowager  of  Wales ;  and  they  may  be  fittingly  noticed  here 

The  narrative  of  the  conclusion  of  the  lives  of  the  two  daughters 
of  George  L,  of  whom  Mdlle.  de  Schulemberg,  Duchess  of  Kendal, 
was  the  mother,  is  of  more  interest  than  the  record  of  the  opening,' 
or  the  detail  of  much  of  the  course  of  each.  Petronilla,  who  mar- 
ried a  Count  Delitz,  became  acquainted  in  this  country  with  Lady 
Hun^ngdon,  and  that  good,  active,  eccentric,  but  earnest  apostle 
of  the  Gospel,  Whitfield.  With  the  latter  the  countess  maintained 
a  long  correspondence,  and  she  is  spoken  of  as  being  a  gem  in  the 
crown  which  metaphor  placed  uiK)n  the  preacher's  brow.     This 


( 


CHARLOTTE  SOPHIA. 


69 


i 


lady  died  at  Lord  Chesterfield's  house  in  May  Fair,  on  the  3d  of 
November,  1773. 

Her  more  celebrated  sister,  who  married  the  Earl  of  Chester- 
field, and  in  whose  name  her  husband  is  said  to  have  compelled 
George  II.  to  pay  him  a  very  large  sum,  which  also,  according  to 
report,  was  bequeathed  her  by  George  I.,  in  the  will  which  was 
destroyed,  led  as  gay  and  careless  a  life  as  her  lord,  but  not  for  so 
long  a  period  as  he.     She  was  in  the  very  height  of  her  enjoy- 
ment of  the  splendor  of  the  great  world,  when,  attracted  by  curi- 
osity to  the  obscurely  lighted  drawing-room  of  Lady  Huntingdon, 
where  Whitfield  was  preaching,  she  learned,  for  the  first  time,  to 
heed  as  well  as  hear,  the  story  of  the  brighter  splendor  of  a  greater, 
and  the  night  and  anguish  of  a  more  terrible  world,  than  the  one 
in  which  she  was  chief  lady  of  the  revels,  and  the  fascinator,  not 
to  be  resisted,  of  every  man  in  it  except  her  husband.     It  was  here 
she  first  felt  that  all  was  not  so  well  with  her  heart,  nor  so  safe 
for  her  soul,  as  should  be.     She  was  a  woman  of  strong  mind,  and 
she  at  once  braved  all  the  storm  with  which  fools  and  fine  gentle- 
men pelted  her,  by  boldly  declaring  the  difierence  which  had  come 
over  her  views,  and  that  which  should  in  future  mark  her  prac- 
tice.    She  would  fain  have  retired  altogether  from  the  world,  but 
in  obedience  to  her  husband,  who  exacted  from  her  a  service  which 
he  never  repaid,  she  went  occasionally  to  court.     At  each  visit  it 
was  remarked  tliat  her  costume  diminished  in  finery,  but  increased 
in  taste.     At  her  last  visit  among  the  gay  and  panting  throng,  she 
appeared  in  a  plain  but  elegant  dress  of  sober  brown  brocade 
*'  powdered,"  as  the  heralds  might  say,  "  with  silver  flowers."     A 
smile  may  mock  this  humility  of  a  court  lady,  but  the  costly  and 
continental  simplicity  was  encountered   by  her  half-brother,  the 
king,  (for  it  was  in  George  II.'s  time  that  this  occurred,)  with  a 
frown.     He  had  not  yet  learned  to  honor  pious  men  or  women  of 
any  creed,  and  he  had  little  respect  for  Lady  Huntingdon  or  Whit- 
field.    He  accordingly  made  two  or  three  steps  in  advance  to  the 
shrinking  lady,  and  rather  rudely  remarked,  "  I  know  who  select- 
ed that  gown  for  you ;  it  must  have  been  Mr.  Whitfield.     I  hear 
you  have  been  a  follower  of  his  for  this  year  and  a-half."     Lady 
Chesterfield  mildly  replied,  "  I  have,  and  very  well  do  I  like  him,'* 


70 


LIVES   OF  THE   QLEENS  OF   ENGLAND. 


and  withdrew ;  but  she  afterwards  used  to  regret  that  she  had  not 
said  more,  when  she  had  so  excellent  an  opportunity  for  uttering  a 
word  in  season,  with  effect. 

Lady  Huntingdon  hoped,  for  some  time,  that  a  sense  of  religion 
might  soon  touch  the  heart  of  him  who  continued  to  be  polite  and 
impious  to  the  last.  He  laughingly  called  death — a  leap  in  the 
dark,  and  he  obstinately  refused  the  light  which  would  have  saved 
him  from  leaping  to  his  destruction.  The  nearest  approach  he 
ever  made,  to  being  converted  by  Lady  Huntingdon,  was  when  he 
once  sent  her  a  subscription  towards  building  a  chapel,  and 
earnestly  implored  her  not  to  expose  him  to  ridicule  by  revealing 
the  fact ! 

His  noble  wife — for  she  icas  a  wife — true  woman,  rising  al)ove 
the  shame  of  her  birth,  and  resolute  to  save  even  him  who  was 
resolute  and  resigned  to  perish,  was  most  assiduous  at  the  death- 
bed of  a  husband  who  was  as  anxious  as  Charles  H.  to  be  cour- 
teous and  civil,  even  in  death.  His  last  dav  on  earth  was  the  24th 
of  March,  1773;  and  his  courtesy  had  well  nigh  failed  him  when 
he  heard  that  his  wife  had  sent  for  Mr.  Rowland  Hill  to  attend 
him.  "Dear  Lady  Chesterfield,"  says  Lady  Huntingdon,  in  one 
of  her  letters  detailing  "  the  blackness  of  darkness"  which  had 
thickened  round  his  dying  moments,  ''  Dear  Lady  Chesterfield 
could  not  be  persuaded  to  leave  his  room  for  an  instant.  What 
immitigated  anguish  has  she  endured  !  But  her  confidential  com- 
munications I  am  not  at  liberty  to  disclose.  The  curtain  has 
fallen  :  his  immortal  part  has  passed  to  another  state  of  existence. 
Oh,  my  soul,  come  not  thou  unto  his  end ! " 

This  wife,  the  daughter  of  George  L,  was  not  even  mentioned 
incidentally  in  a  will  which  recognized  the  services  of  menials 
and  rewarded  them  with  ostentation.  But  after  Chesterfield's 
death,  the  mansion  in  May  Fair,  and  its  great  room,  and  its  dark 
mysterious  boudoirs,  curtained  with  blue  and  silver  tissue,  and 
slightly  echoing  the  rustle  of  silks  that  were  not  worn  by  the  wife 
of  the  lord  of  the  house — over  all  these  there  came  a  chan"-e. 
The  stage  remained,  but  the  actors  and  audiences  were  different, 
and  now  we  see  that  once  little  girl  who  usurped  in  Hanover,  a 
love  to  which  she  was  not  legitimately  entitled,  a  sober  woman 


CHARLOTTE   SOPHIA. 


71 


n 


grown,  throwing  open  her  saloons  to  Rowland  Hill  and  the  eager 
multitude  who  thronged  to  hear  that  hearty,  honest,  and  uncom- 
j)romising  man. 

She  lived  on  till  the  year  1778,  and  then,  on  the  16th  of  Sep- 
tember, died  that  being  whose  birth  had  so  severely  wounded  the 
pride  and  self-dignity  of  Sophia  Dorothea.  *'  I  was  with  her  to 
the  last,"  says  Lady  Huntingdon,  "and  never  saw  a  soul  more 
humbled  in  the  dust  before  God,  on  account  of  her  own  vileness 
and  nothingness;  but  having  a  sure  and  steadfast  hope  of  the  love 
and  mercy  of  God  in  Christ,  constantly  affirming  that  his  blood 
cleanseth  from  all  sin.  The  last  audible  expressions  that  fell  from 
her  a  few  moments  before  her  final  struggle,  were,  *  Oh,  my  friend, 
I  have  hope,  a  strong  hope — through  grace.'  Then,  taking  my 
hand,  and  clasping  it  earnestly  between  hers,  she  exclaimed  with 
much  energy,  '  God  be  merciful  to  me,  a  sinner!'  " 

Between  the  period  of  the  birth  of  the  last  child  of  Queen  Char- 
lotte and  the  date  last  named,  her  majesty  had  presented  other 
claimants  upon  the  love  and  liberality  of  the  people.  These  were 
Augustus  (Sussex)  born  in  1713;  Adolphus  (Cambridge)  in 
1774  ;  Mary  in  1776  (sole  survivor  of  the  family  now,  as  Duchess 
of  Gloucester),  and  Sophia  in  1777.  Meanwhile  a  queen,  thus 
constantly  occupied,  performed  all  household  and  matronly  duties 
in  a  way  that  won  respect  even  from  those  who  detected  in  her, 
faults  of  temper  or  errors  in  politics.  Of  her  method  and  success 
in  training  some  of  her  children,  we  have  this  evidence. 

AVhen  the  youngest  of  the  daughters  of  her  majesty  was  about 
pix  years  old,  the  well-known  Jacob  Bryant  heard  the  queen  make 
a  remark  to  the  child  which  he  (the  author  of  the  Treatise  on  the 
Authenticity  of  the  Scrii)tures  and  Truth  of  the  Christian  Religion) 
considered  and  cited  as  high  authority  for  a  mode  of  reasoning, 
which  he  ado})ted  when  speaking  of  the  obstacles  that  encumber 
the  way  even  of  the  seekers  after  truth.  He  is  alluding  to  those 
who  are  discouraged  because  the  truth  they  would  fain  seize  is  not 
yet  obvious  to  them  ;  and  he  bids  them  wait  with  patience  and  not 
be  discouraged.  "  I  have  high  authority,"  he  says,  "  for  this  mode 
of  reasoning,  which  I  hope  I  may  take  the  liberty  to  produce. 
When  a  great  per£onage   some  years  ago  was  visiting  the  royal 


72 


LIVES   OF   THE    QUEENS   OF   ENGLAND. 


nursery,  a  most  amiable  princess  (the  Duchess  of  Gloucester),  then 
about  six  years  old,  ran  with  a  book  in  her  hand,  and  tears  in  her 
eyes,  and  said,  '  Madam,  I  cannot  comprehend  it !  1  cannot  com- 
prehend it !'  Iler  majesty,  whh  true  parental  afTection,  looked 
upon  the  princess,  and  bade  her  not  be  alarmed.  *  What  you  can- 
not comprehend  to-day,  you  may  comprehend  to-morrow  ;  and  what 
you  cannot  attain  to  this  year,  you  may  arrive  at  the  next.  Do 
not  therefore  be  frightened  with  little  dithculties,  but  attend  to  what 
you  do  know,  and  the  rest  will  come  in  time.' "  This  was  good 
common  sense,  and  ^Ir.  Biyant  calls  it  "  a  goklen  rule,  well  worthy 
our  observation." 

Her  majesty  displayed  even  more  readiness  in  patronizing  such 
men  as  the  author  above  named,  than  she  did  in  the  patronage  of 
musicians,  fond  as  she  and  her  royal  consort  were  of  the  really 
tuneful  art.  In  old  days  the  honor  of  British  queens  was  said  to 
be  mpst  safe  when  it  had  a  bard  for  its  attendant  protector.  Such 
protection  was  not  now  wanted,  nor  have  such  protectors  always 
been  able  to  guanl  themselves,  still  less  the  praise  and  honor  of 
others.  The  musical  Mark  Smeaton  was  the  pretty-voiced  and 
quick-fingered  groom  of  the  chamber  to  Anne  Boleyn,  but  he  was 
executed  for  embracing  too  closely  the  cause,  which  he  might  have 
protected  at  a  resi)ectful  distance.  Poor  Thomas  Abel,  the  musical 
preceptor  of  Queen  Catherine,  was  hanged  and  quartered  by  Henry 
YUI.  for  much  the  same  reason  as  that  which  sent  Smeaton  to  the 
scaffold.  Then  there  was  David  Rizzio,  who,  not  long  after,  and 
not  having  the  fate  of  his  predecessor  before  his  eyes,  was  mur- 
dered lor  too  close  attention  to  the  honor  of  Queen  Mary.  It  may 
be  said  to  the  credit  of  Queen  Charlotte,  that  she  had  no  taste  for 
the  protection  of  minstrels,  and  I  doubt  if,  throughout  her  life  as 
queen,  she  ever  placed  a  fiddler  as  a  pensioner  on  the  civil  list  of 
England.  There  are  more  fiddlers  than  philosoj)hers  on  the  list 
in  our  days. 

At  a  comparatively  early  period,  the  queen  furnished  the  grate 
ful  Prince  of  Wales  with  a  chaplain,  whose  chief  duty  was  com- 
prised in  daily  reading  prayers  in  the  young  prince's  presence,  and, 
if  we  may  judge  by  the  result,  not  very  much  to  the  young  prince's 
profit.     Among  those  who  were  candidates  for  the  office,  was  the 


CHARLOTTE   SOPHIA. 


73 


too-celebrated  Dr.  Dodd,  but  though  the  queen  w^as  in  some  degree 
interested  in  him,  on  account  of  his  reported  abihty,  she  united 
heartily  witli  the  king,  in  refusing  to  nominate  him  to  the  responsi- 
ble duty.  The  elder  princes  were,  as  early  as  1773,  located  at 
Carlton  House,  under  the  guardianship  of  Lady  Charlotte  Finch, 
almost  daily  superintended  by  the  queen.  The  latter  was,  how- 
ever, always  glad  to  escape  from  town  to  Kew,  which  had  come 
into  the  king's  possession  on  the  death  of  his  mother,  and  for  which 
the  residence  at  Old  Richmond  had  been  abandoned.  It  was  at 
Kew  that  she  received  Beattie,  for  whom  she  had  procured  a  pen- 
sion of  200/.  a  year,  right  royal  reward,  for  his  indifferent  M'ork  on 
the  Immutability  of  Truth.  The  well-recompensed  author  was  in 
too  good  a  humor  with  the  royal  lady  to  see  any  fault  in  her.  He 
even  pronounced  her  English  "  fair,"  and  herself  as  "  most  agree- 
able."  The  portraits  of  her,  he  thought  hardly  rendered  her 
justice,  and  the  expression  of  her  eye  and  of  her  smile  was  declared 
by  him  to  be  most  engaging. 

She  was  not  so  favorably  considered  by  some  of  her  own  court. 
Thus,  the  wearers  of  the  fashionable  long  feathers  denounced  her 
bad  taste,  when  the  queen  issued  her  decree  against  their  being 
worn  at  court.  The  decree,  however,  was  not  issued  without  great 
provocation,  a  dowager-duchess  having  appeared  at  a  drawing- 
room,  with  a  head-dress  of  feathers,  a  yard  and  a  quarter  in  height. 
The  sight  was  so  ridiculous,  that  Charlotte  would,  for  a  long  time, 
neither  tolerate  them  in  others  nor  wear  them  herself.  The  maids 
of  honor  grumbled  as  heartily  at  this  as  they  did  at  the  i*ule  of  the 
queen's  household,  which  did  not  provide  them  with  supper.  The 
fair  ladies'  remonstrance  on  this  latter  subject  almost  amounted  to 
a  mutiny.  The  affair  was  ended  by  compromise.  Their  salary 
was  raised,  and  each  maid  received  on  her  marriage  a  gift  of  1000/. 
from  the  queen. 

The  latter  frowned  when  the  heavy  bargain  was  concluded,  but 
Bhe  changed  the  frown  for  a  smile,  on  being  told  that  the  Prince 
of  Wales  had  corrected  Lord  Bruce  for  making  a  false  quantity. 
Next  to  his  being  a  gentleman  she  hoped  he  would  be  a  scholar, 
and  here  was  a  pi-ospect  of  her  hopes  being  realized. 

As  a  sample  of  the  queen's  benevolence  we  may  cite  the  follow- 

VoL.  IL— 4 


74 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEEXS  OF   EXGLAND. 


ing  record.     In  the  action  oft'  Brest,  in  which  the  adversaries 
fought  with  a  valor  which  did  lionor  to  both  parties,  and  enhanced 
the  glory  of  the  victors,  there  was  no  ship  that  bore  herself,  if  one 
may  so  speak,  more  distinguishedly  in  the  fray  than  the  gullant  but 
luckless  Quebec.     This  vessel  blew  up  in  the  action,  and  out  of  her 
numerous  crew  only  seventeen  persons  escaped.     Among  the  latter 
was  a  master's  mate,  named  William  ]Moore,  afterwards  Captain 
Moore.     He  was  desperately  wounded  in  tlie  shoulder  and  leg, 
and  he  conceived  little  hopes  of  ever  being,  like  the  old  commodore 
in  the  song,  fit  for  sea  again.     Meanwhile,  however,  he  had  a 
friend  at  court,  in  the  person  of  a  kinsman  named  Ashbumer,  who 
was  mercer  to  the  queen.     The  kind-hearted  tradesman  was  ex- 
hibiting his  wares  to  her  majesty,  when  amid  his  commendation  of 
them  he  contrived  to  introduce  his  cousin's  name  and  condition, 
with  some  commiserating  comment  upon  his  hard  fate.     The  queen 
was  extremely  judicious  in  her  acts  of  charity,  and  she  simply  told 
the  mercer  to  send  the  master's  mate  down  to  Windsor,  if  he  were 
well  enough  to  bear  the  journey.     The  very  command  was  sove- 
reign spermaceti  to  his  wounds,  and  in  a  day  or  two,  the  sadly 
battered  sailor  was  comfortably  lodged  at  Windsor,  the  patient  of 
the  queen's  own  surgeon  and  physician.     He  took  some  time  to 
cure,  but  the  desired  result  was  achieved  at  last,  and  the  ma^ter's 
mate  now  stood  in  presence  of  the  queen  to  thank  her,  which  the 
pale  sailor  did,  with  faltering  expression  of  gratitude,  for  the  royal 
benevolence  which  had  again  made  a  man  of  him.     To  a  query 
fi-om  the  royal  lady  he  protested  that  he  feh  i)erfectly  equal  for 
the  performance  of  duty  again.     *•  So  I  hear  from  the  doctor,"  said 
Queen   Charlotte.     "  And  I  have  spoken  about  you  to  the  king, 
and,  there,  Mr.  Moore,  is  his  majesty's  acknowledgments  for  your 
gallantry  and  sufferings  when  afloat."     3Ir.   Moore  thought*  the 
queen  and  king  an  exceedingly  civil  couple  to  say  so  much  about 
the  performance  of  a  matter  of  duty,  and   he  was  about  to  retire 
frora  the  presence,  when  the  queen  said,  smilingly,  "  Mr.  Moore, 
will  not  you  see  what  his  majesty  says  ?"     The  master's  mate 
obeyed,  and  was  rewarded  for  his  obedience,  by  finding  that  he  had 
been  promoted  to  a  lieutenancy  on  board  the  Mercury.     This  was 
a  good  deed  gracefuUy  enacted.     Not  less  so  was  another  of  which 


CHARLOTTE   SOPHIA. 


75 


\\ 


the  queen  was  the  author ;  whereby  she  procured  for  the  widow 
and  large  family  of  Captain  Farmer,  who  fell  in  the  Quebec  an 
annuity  which  made  really  princely  provision  for  the  widow  and 
children  of  the  slain  commander. 

The  poets  of  1779  were  not  addicted  to  satire,  except  in  jest. 
Thus  one,  m  a  rhymed  dialogue,  makes  one  of  his  interlocutors  say 
to  the  other, —  "^ 

"  I  own  your  satire's  just  and  keen. 
Proceed,  and  satirize  the  queen." 

To  which  the  reply  is — 

"  With  all  my  heart.— The  queen,  they  say, 

Attends  her  nurs'ry  every  day  ; 

And,  like  a  common  mother,  shares 

In  all  her  infants'  Httle  cares. 

What  vulgar,  unamusing  scene, 

For  George's  wife  and  Britain's  queen. 

Tis  whispered  also  at  the  palace, 

^I  hope  'tis  but  the  voice  of  malice), 
•  That  (tell  it  not  in  foreign  lands) 

She  works  with  her  own  royal  hands ; 
And  that  our  sovereign's  sometimes  seen, 
In  vest  embroidered  by  his  queen. — 
This  might  a  courtly  fashion  be 
In  days  o(  old  Andromache  ; 
But  modern  ladies,  trust  my  words. 
Seldom  sew  tunics  for  their  lords. 
What  secret  next  must  I  unfold? 
She  hates,  I'm  confidently  told  — 

She  hates  the  manners  of  the  times,  * 

And  all  our  fashionable  crimes, 

And  fondly  wishes  to  restore 

The  golden  age,  and  days  of  yore; 

When  silly,  simple  women,  thought 

A  breach  of  chastity  a  fault. 

Esteem'd  those  modest  things,  divorces. 

The  very  worst  of  human  curses ; 

And  deem'd  assemblies,  cards,  and  dice, 

The  springs  of  every  sort  of  vice. 

Romantic  notions !  all  the  fair 

At  such  absurdities  must  stare  ; 


76  LIVES   OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 

And,  spite  of  all  her  pains,  will  still 
Love  routs,  adultery,  and  quadrille." 

•*  Well,  is  that  all  you  find  to  blame, 
Sir  Critic,  in  the  royal  dame  !  " 

"  All  I  could  find  to  blame  ?  no,  truly ! 

The  longest  day  in  June  and  July 

AVould  tail  me.  ere  I  could  express 

The  half  of  Charlotte's  blemishes. 

Those  foolish  and  old-fashioned  ways 

Of  keeping  holy  sabbath-days, 

That  affectation  to  appear 

At  Church,  the  Word  of  God  to  hear: 

That  poor-like  plainness  in  her  dress, 

So  void  of  noble  tawdriness  : 

That  affability  and  ease 

That  can  her  menial  servants  please  ; 

But  which  incredibly  demean 

The  state  and  grandeur  of  a  queen  : 

These,  and  a  thousand  things  beside, 

I  could  discover  and  deride. 
But  here's  enough  ;  another  day 

I  may,  perhaps,  renew  my  lay.  « 

Are  you  content!" 

"  Not  quite,  unless 
You  put  your  satire  to  the  press. 
For  sure  a  satire,  in  this  mode, 
Is  equal  to  a  birth-day  ode." 

No  doubt  of  it !  and  much  better  written  and  applied  than  any 
of  the  birth-day  ode:*  of  the  period.  The  fact  was,  that  if  there 
were  strong  prejudices,  there  were  al.-^o  simple  virtues  at  court. 
The  king  would  have  no  ode  sung  to  him,  as  his  predecessors  had, 
on  New  Year's  day ;  and  the  queen  would  not  allow  Twelfth  Nif^ht 
to  be  celebrated  by  the  usually  ruinous  play  at  ''  hazard."  No 
wonder  the  poets  praised  her. 


CHARLOTTE  SOPHIA. 


77 


;,  I 


I 


CHAPTER  V. 

PERILS,   PROGRESS,    AND    PASTIMES. 

There  had  been,  during  the  recent  years  of  Charlotte's  mar- 
ried life,  no  lack  of  either  private  or  public  trials  and  misfortunes. 
The  struggles  of  the  government  at  home  against  the  press  had 
signally  failed ;  and  that  against  the  American  colonies,  wherein 
France,  Spain,  and  Holland  were  arrayed  against  England,  ended 
in  the  acknowledgment,  on  our  part,  of  the  independence  of  the 
United  States.  The  unpopularity  of  the  king,  who  applied  for  and 
received  100,000/.  per  annum  in  addition  to  the  400,000/.  granted 
to  him  at  his  accession,  was  extended  to  the  queen.  The  king  was 
insulted  by  a  female,  said  to  be  insane,  as  he  was  proceeding  in  his 
chair  to  the  Havmarket  Theatre.  This  circumstance  rendered  the 
queen  ill  at  ease  for  several  days.  Her  sympathy  could  at  no 
time,  however,  induce  the  king  to  grant  her  a  favor,  if  he  thought 
it  was  against  his  sense  of  right.  Thus,  few  persons  more  inter- 
ested themselves  to  rescue  the  Reverend  Dr.  Dodd,  the  forger, 
from  the  liands  of  the  executioner,  than  Queen  Charlotte.  Her 
respect  for  the  sacred  oiiice  was  so  great,  that  it  fteemed  to  be 
something  shocking  that  a  clergyman  should  be  hanged.  But 
George  IH.  remarked,  that  Dodd's  offence  was  rendered  the  more 
grievous  from  the  fact  of  his  being  a  clergyman,  and  that  the  law 
must  take  its  course. 

It  may  fittingly  be  stated  here,  that  in  the  month  of  June  of  this 
year,  1777,  the  old  Duchess  of  Queensberry  was  alive  to  see  the 
triumph  of  her  protege,  Gay, — a  triumph  in  which  the  poet  him- 
Belf  did  not  participate.  The  lord-chamberlain  of  George  IH.'s 
time  was  less  scrupulous  or  less  sensitive  than  his  predecessor,  the 
Duke  of  Grafton  of  George  II.'s  era.     "  Polly  " — for  subscriptions 


78 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAXD. 


to  print  which  the  duehoss  had  even  asked  the  courtiers  in  Queen 
Carohne's  own  apar(ment-was  for  the  lir.t  time  represented  at 
the  Haymarket,  on  the  19th  of  June,  1777.     In  this  sequel  we 
learn  that  Peachum  has  heen  deservedly  hanftod.     Was  it  on  this 
account  that  AValpole,  who  deemed  himself  misrepresented  in  (hat 
eharaeter,  was  determined  to  prevent  the  representation  of  this 
poor  p.ece?    All  the  rest  of  it  is  without  offence,  that  is  without 
pohtical  offence;  lor  otherwise  it  is,  throughout,  an  offence  a-ainst 
common  sense  and  decency.     The  Maehea.h  of  the  opera  is,  h,  the 
sequel,  a  transported  felon  at  large,  in  the  West  Indies,  and  turned 
pirate    under  the  name  of  Morano.     lie  is  subsequently  put  to 

search  of  h,m,  ends  the  piece  by  asking  tin.e  to  consider  an  offer 
o    marriage  tnade  to  her  by  Cowwawkee,  the  son  of  an  Indian 

tZnh  i  ,"d  "  ,  "  "'■  Q"-"''>--^  -joyed  this  poor 
tnumph  of  a  dead  poet  over  a  defunct  politician.  It  was  a  paltry 
busmess  al  ogether;  the  only  singular  feet  in  the  affair  beinl  that 
the  ongmal  Maehea.h  was  a  ballas.-heaver  in  the  Thames,  «ally 
bore  that  name,  took  "to  the  road,"  and  was  hanged  at  the  end 

During  the  following  year,  1778,  there  were  many  royal  ",.ro- 
gresses    made  to  the  fleet,  to  the  fortified  towns  on  the  eoas    ,o 
the  various  camps,  and  to  the  mansions  of  the  nobility.    There  yZ 
a  general  air  of  festivity  about  the  queen  and  court,  but  there  wa 
nothing  ,„  the  condition  of  the  affairs  of  the  kingiom  to  ZZ 
the  apparent  joy.     By  sea  and  land  our  flag,  th^u^h  not  di  hi 
ored,  was  not  triumphant ;  and  for  the  mom^t,  the  most  unnoniT 
larman  in  the  kingdom  was  the  king  himself  -obstnae      hi,: 
determination  to  govern  as  well  as  reign,  and  daily  vermin"  to 

tn::; -.r '"'''''''  ^""'^  -^ "''-'  ""'<■"  -"•<^<'  «<  >-  -  ^z 

Meanwhile,  however,  the  home  enjoyments  of  the  court  were 
P  acid  and  unexciting.     I„  her  "  progresses"  wi.h  the  kin.   clr 
lotte  was  not  reluctant  to  maintain  the  state  of  a  quee^     II " 
Hi  as  on  „.,    ,„bject  seem  strange  to  us  now.     Tl.  s  w lie,,", ! 
held  a  eoun  in  the  old  royal  city  of  Winchester,  her  col.  me  eo, 
ststed  of  a  scarlet  riding-habit,  faced  wi.h  blue,  and  coven^  wi  h 


CHARLOTTE  SOPHIA. 


79 


I 


rich  gold  embroidery.     In  the  same  dress,  with  the  addition  of  a 
black  hat  and  a  large  cockade,  she  accompanied  the  king  on  his 
visits  to  the  various  camps  established  in  the  south.     Nothing, 
however,  could  be  more  simple  than  the  way  of  life  of  this  royal 
pair  when  really  "  at  home."     Its  simplicity  extracted  from  a  for- 
eigner who  witnessed  it  the  remark,  that  such  citizen-like  plainness 
was  injurious  to  royalty,  and  an  encouragement  to  republicanism. 
Adopting  as  far  as  possible  the  descriptions  of  eye-witnesses  of 
scenes  in  which  the  sovereigns  enacted  the  principal  part,  we  will 
now  turn  to  the  gossiping  Mrs.  Delany's  letters,  for  the  report  of 
a  visit  made  in   1779  by  the  queen  and  her  royal  consort  and 
fjimily  to  the   Duke  of   Portland's,  at  Bulstrode.      "The  royal 
fomily,"  says  the  writer,  "ten  in  all,  came  to  Bulstrode  at  twelve 
o'clock.     The  king  drove  the  queen  in  an  open  chaise,  with  a  pair 
of  white  horses.     The  Prince  of   "Wale.^  and   Prince  Frederick 
rode  on  horseback ;    all   with  proper  attendant.^,   but  no  guards. 
Princess  Royal  and  Lady  Weymouth  in  a  post-chaise.     Princess 
Augusta,  Princess  Elizabeth,  Prince  Adolphus  (about  seven  years 
old),  and  Lady  Charlotte  Finch,  in  a  coach.     Prince  William, 
Prince  Edward,  Duke  of  Montague,  and  the  Bishop  of  Lichfield, 
in  a  coach ;  another  coach  full  of  attendant  gentlemen  ;  among 
others,  Mr.  Smelt,  whose  character  sets  him  above  mo.st  men,  and 
does  great  honor  to  the  king,  who  calls  him  his  friend,  and  has 
drawn  him  out  of  his  solitude,  (the  life  he  had  cho-on.)  to  enjoy 
his  conversation  every  leisure  moment.      These,  with   all  their 
attendants  in  rank  and  file,  made  a  splendid  figure  as  they  drove 
through  the  park,  and  round  the  court,  up  to  the  house.     The  day 
was  as  brilliant  as  could  be  wished,  the  12th  of  August,  the  Prince 
of  Wales's  birth-day.     The  queen  was  in  a  hat,  and  in  an  Italian 
night-gown  of  purple  lustring,  trimmed  with  silver  gauze.     She  is 
graceful  and  genteel.     The  dignity  and  sweetness  of  her  manner, 
the   perfect   propriety  of  everything  she   says  or  does,  satisfies 
everybody  she  honors  with  her  instructions  so  much,  that  beauty 
is  by  no  means   wanting  to  make  her  perfectly  agreeable ;  and 
though  awe  and  long  retirement  from  court  made  me  feel  timid  on 
my  being  called  to  make  my  appearance,  I  soon  found  myself 
perfectly  at  ease,  for  the  king's  conversation  and  good  humor  took 


80 


UVKS  OF  THE  QUEEXS  OF  ENGLAND. 


Off  all  awe  but  what  one  must  have  for  so  respeotuhle  a  character 
severely  tried  by  his  enemies  at  home  as  well  as  abroad      The' 
three  princesses  were  all  in  ftocks.     The  king  and  all  the  men 
were  m  uniform,  blue  and  gold.     They  walked  llnough  (he  great 
apartments,  which  are  in  a  line,  and  attentively  observed  everv- 
tlung,  the  pictures  in  particular.     I  kept  back  in  the  drawini 
roon,  and  took  that  opportunity  of  sitting  down,  when  the  Prin- 
cess Eoyal  returned  to  me,  and  said  the  queen  missed  me  in  the 
tram.     I  immediately  obeyed  the  summons  with  my  best  alacrity. 
Her  majesty  met  me  half  way,  and  seeing  me  hapten  my  steps 

•out  1"'  Tf '  ^""''"'  '  ""'"'  ^•""  •"  •»-'  I  "'1  -'  <1-  •« 
jou  to  run  and  fafgue  yourself     They  all  returned  to  the  .^reit 

dt^wmg-room.  where  there  were  only  two  arm-chairs,  placrd    „ 

he  middle  ol  the  room  for  the  king  and  <,ucen.     The  ki  g  placed 

the  Duchess  Dowager  of  Portland  in  his  chair,  and  walked  abn.t 

adminng  the  beauties  of  the  place.     Breakfast  was  offered  -. 

prepared  ma  long  gallery  that  runs  the  length  of  the  great  u.ir 

meats  (a  suite  of  eight  rooms  and  three  closets).     TIa.  k    '' "i  a 

al  his  royal  children,  and  the  rest  of  the  .rain  chose  to  golZt 

ga«ery,  where   the  well-furnished  t.ables  were  set,  one  with  teZ 

eoffee,  and  cimcolatc,  another  with  their  proper  a  •companimoi  t^ 

of  eatables,  rolls^  <.akes,  &c.     Ano.her  table  w'.h  fruits  . ,"~ 

a  cold  repast      The  queen  remained  in  the  drawing-room.     I  stood 

at  the  back  o,  her  chair,  which  happening  ,o  be  olie  of  my  wtk 

.ng,gave   he  queen   an   opportunity  ,o  say  many  obliging  ,hin.. 

The  Duchess  Do„.,ger  of  Portland  brought  her  maTest;  a  diti 

of  tea  on  a  waiter,  w  i.h  biscuits,  which  was  ^-ha.  she  chos       A 

she   had   drank   her  tea,  she  would  not  return  her  cup  ,o      « 

duchess,  but  got  up  and  would  carry  it  to  the  gallery  her  elf  •  ^ 

was  much  pleased  to  see  with  what  elegance  t.-eryflii.  .l;  p   ' 

pa^d.     ^o  servants  but   those  out  of  livery  mad'e  thc:ir  app^r- 

tZr    ,         f^'  ''''-■•■'''""  '•PP<^^«™"ec  .bev  all  made,  and  .he 

the  Duchess  of  Portland,  who  is  never  so  happy  T  when  -^1 
gratifies  those  .she  esteems  wor.hy  of  her  a.tSns  an  I.;  ^ 
The  young  royals  seemed  quite  happy,  from  the  eldest  t^  the' 


CHARLOTTE   SOPHIA. 


81 


i 


youngest,  and  to  inherit  the  gracious  manners  of  their  parents.  I 
cannot  enter  upon  their  particular  address  to  me,  which  not  only 
did  me  honor,  but  showed  their  humane  and  benevolent  respect 
for  old  age.  The  king  desired  me  to  show  the  queen  one  of  my 
books  of  plants.  She  seated  herself  in  the  galler}',  a  table  and 
the  book  laid  before  her.  I  kept  my  distance  till  she  called  me  to 
Msk  some  questions  about  the  mosaic  paper-work  ;  and  as  I  stood 
before  her  majesty,  the  king  set  a  chair  behind  me.  I  turned  with 
some  confusion  and  hesitation  on  receiving  so  great  an  honor; 
when  the  queen  said,  '  Mrs.  Delany,  sit  down,  sit  down  ;  it  is  not 
every  lady  that  has  a  chair  brought  her  by  a  king.'  So  I  obeyed. 
Amongst  many  gracious  things,  the  queen  asked  me  why  I  was 
not  with  the  duchess  when  she  came,  for  I  might  be  sure  she 
would  ask  for  me.  I  was  flattered,  though  I  knew  to  whom  I  was 
obliged  for  this  distinction,  and  doubly  flattered  by  that.  I 
acknowledged  it  in  as  few  words  as  jwssible,  and  said  I  was  parti- 
cularly happy  at  that  moment  to  pay  my  duty  to  her  majesty,  as  it 
gave  me  an  opportunity  to  see  so  many  of  the  royal  family,  which 
age  and  obscurity  had  deprived  me  of.  '  Oh,  but,'  said  her 
majesty,  *  you  have  not  seen  all  my  children  yet.'  Upon  which 
the  king  came  up  and  asked  what  we  were  talking  about,  which 
was  repeated,  and  the  king  replied  to  the  queen,  '  You  may  put 
Mrs.  Delany  in  the  way  of  doing  that,  by  naming  a  day  for  her  to 
drink  tea  at  Windsor  Castle.'  The  Duchess  of  Portland  was  con- 
sulted, and  the  next  day  fixed  upon  ;  as  the  duchess  had  appointed 
the  end  of  the  week  for  going  to  Weymouth." 

In  1779  was  bom  the  short-lived  Prince  Octavius.  Before  the 
death  of  this  happy  little  prince.  Strange,  the  engraver,  consented 
to  engrave  his  portrait.  The  queen  did  not  like  the  politics  of  the 
artist,  for  he  was  the  most  determined  Jacobite  in  the  kinjjdom, — 
except  his  wife.  He  was  so  successful,  however,  with  his  "  plate  " 
of  Octavius,  that  George  III.  knighted  him  ;  and  even  his  wife 
thought  the  better  of  the  "  Elector  and  Electress  of  Hanover," 
for  having  made  her,  what  "  the  king  over  the  water"  had  never 
thought  of  doing, — Lady  Strange. 

The  following  year  was  that  of  the  riots  of  London.  While 
that  popular  tumult  was  raging,  the  king  behaved  with  courage 


t 

A. 


82 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


f 


and  common  sense;  and  the  queen,  left  almost  entirely  alone  at 
Buckingham   House,  with  her  children,  with  equal  calmness  and 
intrep.di.,y.     The  "  ladies  "  who  o„ff/>t  to  have  been  in  atten.lance, 
had  hurried  homeward  with  their  jewels.     The  queen  did  not  lo<e 
heart  at  this  desertion,  but  was  amply  comforted  by  the  frequent 
yet  brief  visits  of  the  king,  who  spent  two  entire  nialits,  holding 
cotmcil  with  the  heads  of  the  army,  in  the  queen's  Ridin.r  IIo„.c° 
In  the  September  of  this  year,  another  prince,  Alfr("d,— who 
shared  with  his  brother  Octavius  the  incalculable  advantages  of 
dymg  early,-was  added  to  the  family  of  George  and  Cha°  lotte. 
1  his  mcrease,  perhaj-s,  inspired  her  with  increase  of  sympathy  for 
others      However  this  may  be,  it  is  certain  that  in  the  fall  of  this 
year  she  very  warmly  seconded  the  project  of  Jlr.  Kaikes  for  the 
foundation   of  Sunday  Schools.      The   project   was   sneered   at 
snubbed,  atjd  satirized  by  a  public  who,  however,  were  ultimately 
wise  enough  to  be  grateful.  "'"JK-iy 

Queen  tharlote  m  company  with  the  queen's  son.     •■  The  Prince 
of    Vaks  has  lately  made  a  visit  to  L..dy  Cecilia  Jolms.one,  whe  e 
Lady  Sarah   Napier  was."     She  w.«  the   Lady  Sarah  I  ennox 
who  had  touched  the  heart  of  the  king  some  twenty  years  before' 
"She  did  not  appear,  but  he  insisted  on  seeing  her  -uid  ^s^i.^'Z 
w..  to  have  been  there,'  pointing  to  AVindsor"  C     il         vl  ^ 
came  down,  he  said  he  did  not  wonder  at  his  fi.ther's  admir   ^ , 
and  was  persuaded  she  had  not  been  more  beautiful  then'  ' 

«i     .    ,  ,'"  !''"  '■'S'' «*■  """^'«e".  ll'e  Prince  of  Wales  bectme 
"lord  of  himself."     His  mother  had  been  his  fir.t  goverle^s    Td 
a  eight  years  of  age  he  had  been  delivered  bv  his  father  ,;  Dr 
Markham  and  Cyril  Jackson,  with  the  injunction  to  treu   It   " 

e^'de^  dT  'tT"'''^1'  -''"""■'"  •"  '-^  "'-^!'-  •" 
ne  ae^eived  it.     Markham   acted   up    to    his    in.tructioim      T. 

pru.ce  never  bore  an,  ill-will  to  cithel  preceptor  o  7u t;^^^^^^ 
for  their  severity;  but  he  took  the  earliest  opportunitv  orshoT-  " 
his  antagonism  again.st  his  father.     In  I77>  Slu  i^ 

was  going  on  between  Wlkes  and  the  crown"    f  ^"^"^' 

real  adversaries —thp  vn,         '  ^^^^^".~for  such  were  the 

er.anes,-.the  joung  prince  made  his  sire's  ears  tin^^le 


CHARLOTTE   SOPHIA. 


83' 


indignantly  with  the  popular  cry  of  "■  Wilkes  and  *  forty-five  *  for 
ever ! " 

The  young  prince's  preceptors  were  changed  in  1776.  Lord 
Bruce  became  governor  in  place  of  Lord  Holdernesse ;  but  he 
retired  almost  immediately,  vexed,  it  is  said,  at  the  prince  having 
detected  him  in  the  commission  of  a  false  quantity.  Bishop  Hurd 
and  the  Rev.  Mr.  Arnold,  under  the  superintendence  of  the  oat- 
meal-porridge-loving  Duke  of  Montague,  were  now  entrusted  to 
impart  what  instruction  they  might  to  the  prince  and  his  next 
brother  Frederick.  They  adopted  the  old  plan  of  severity ;  but 
on  endeavoring  to  carry  it  into  effect,  when  the  high-spirited  boys 
were  considerably  advanced  in  their  teens,  one  or  both  of  the  royal 
pupils  turned  on  their  perceptor,  Arnold,  who  was  about  to  most 
grossly  castigate  them,  tore  the  weapon  from  his  hand,  and  rough- 
ly administered  to  him  the  puni.«?hment  with  which  they  themselves 
had  been  threatened. 

Excess  of  restraint  marred  the  education  of  the  two  elder  sons 
of  Charlotte.  Even  when  the  prince  was  considered  of  age,  and 
was  allowed  his  own  establishment  at  Kew,  the  system  of  seclusion 
was  still  maintained.  Such  a  system  had  its  natural  consequences. 
The  prince,  ill  at  ease  with  his  parents,  sought  sympathy  else- 
where ;  and  he  was  not  yet  out  of  his  teens,  when  Charlotte  was 
horrified  at  hearing  his  name  coupled  with  that  of  the  most  be- 
witching actress  of  the  day. 

Had  the  father  of  Miss  Darby,  the  maiden  name  of  Mrs.  Robin- 
son, been  a  man  of  less  philanthropic  principles,  his  daughter, 
probably,  would  have  been  a  more  virtuous  and  a  more  happy 
woman.  She  was  born  at  Bristol,  in  1758,  and  was  looked  upon 
as  a  little  heiress,  till  her  father  lost  the  whole  of  a  not  inconsidera- 
ble fortune,  by  speculating  in  an  attempt  to  civilize  the  Esquimaux 
Indians. 

Miss  Darby  was,  for  some  time,  a  pupil  of  Miss  Hannah  More ; 
but  was  herself  compelled  to  turn  instructress  as  early  as  her 
fourteenth  year.  She  was,  however,  a  precocious  beauty ;  and  the 
year  previous  she  had  received  an  offer  of  marriage,  which  she 
had  declined.  The  young  teacher  worked  hard  and  cheerfully,  in 
order  that  she  might  be  the  better  enabled  to  support  her  mother. 


84 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


The  proceeds  of  this  labor  also  enabled  her  to  increase  the  number 
of  her  own  accomplishments,  among  others,  dancing.  Her  master 
was  a  Covent  Garden  ballet-master,  who  introduced  her  to  Garriek, 
and  Roscius  brought  her  out  on  the  stage,  in  the  character  of  Cor- 
delia^ with  success. 

Before  she  had  terminated  her  sixteenth  year,  she  married  Mr. 
Robinson,  an  articled  clerk  in  an  attorney's  office,  with  a  good  for- 
tune, upon  which  the  youthful  couple  lived  in  splendor  till  it  was 
gone,  and  the  husband  was  arrested.  His  wife  then  spent  fifteen 
months  with  him  in  prison,  and  then  misery  drove  her  agaiii  to 
Garriek,  who  gave  her  some  instruction,  rehearsed  Romeo  io  her 
Juliet,  and,  bringing  her  out  in  the  latter  character,  gave  to  tlie 
stage  one  of  the  handsomest  and  youngest,  and  most  captivatin-  of 
actresses  that  had  ever  charmed  the  town.  ° 

If  her  Juliet  was  admirable,  her  Perdita,   in    the    "  Winter's 
Tale,"  set  the  town  mad.     On  the  third  of  December,  1770,  she 
played  the  character  in  presence  of  George  IH.,  Queen   Char- 
lotte,  the  Prince  of  Wales,  and  other  members  of  the  royal  family 
and  a  numerous  audience.     When  she  entered  the  green-room 
dressed  for  the  part,  she  looked  so  bewitching,  that  Smith  exclaim- 
ed   -  Ly  Jove !  you  will  make  a  conquest  of  the  prince,  for  you 
look  handsomer  than  ever."     Smith's  prediction  was  a  true  one  ; 
and  letters  from  the  prince,  signed  Florizel,  were  delivered  to 
I^eMita  by  no  less  noble  a  go-between  than  the  Earl  of  Essex 

The  position  of  Perdita  Robinson  at  this  time,  was  a  pecuVu. 
one:  her  husband  was  hving  in  proHigacy  upon  the  wages  of  hi^r 
labor,  and  she  had  refused  the  most  brilliant  offers  madcMo  her  on 
condition  of  separating  fron.  him.     She  refused  them  all ;  but  lent 
too  ready  an  ear  to  the  princely  suitor,  who  now  besieged  her  with 
inherently  written  letters,  and  promises  of  never-dybg  aff  c     „ 
An  jntorview  was  contrived  in   Kew  Gardens  by  moonlight  a^ 
which  the  Bishop  of  Osnaburgh  was  present,  by  way  of  ptayin. 
propriety,  perhaps,  and  at  which  there  appears  t'o  1  Je  been  li ttlf 
said,  but  much  feared,  lest  the  parties  should  be  found  out 

Ihe  prince  and  Perdita  became  so  attached  to  each  other  nfter  . 
few  more  interviews,  that  she  declared  she  should  netr  W 
the  magic  with  which  she  was  wooed,  and  he  present^  Lr  ^ 


CHARLOTTE   SOPHIA. 


85 


1 


bond  for  20,000/.,  to  be  paid  on  his  coming  of  age.  When  that 
period  arrived— it  happened  in  a  few  months— i^/oWze/  would  not 
pay  the  money,  and  had  grown  weary  of  the  lady.  To  modify  her 
despair,  he  granted  a  last  interview,  in  which  he  declared  that  his 
affection  for  her  was  as  great  as  ever,  and  the  poor  lady,  who 
trusted  in  the  declaration,  was  passed  by  on  the  following  day  in 
the  park,  without  a  sign  of  recognition  on  the  part  of  her  princely 
betrayer. 

She  had  quitted  the  stage  to  please  him,  and  now,  in  her  embar- 
rassment, sought  refuge  abroad,  living  in  straitened  circumstances 
in  Paris,  till,  by  the  intervention  of  Mr.  Fox,  an  annuity  was 
settled  upon  her  of  500/.  a-year.  With  this  she  maintained  some 
splendor,  and  she  was  even  noticed  by  Marie  Antoinette,  as  La 
helle  Anglaise.  The  gift  of  a  purse  netted  by  the  royal  hand  of 
that  unfortunate  queen,  and  conferred  by  her  on  Perdita,  showed 
at  once  the  sovereign  lady's  admiration  and  lack  of  judgment  and 
propriety. 

For  some  time  she  resided  alternately  in  England  and  France  j 
but  ultimately  she  settled  at  Brighton,  about  the  time  that  Mrs.' 
Fitzherbert  was  there  in  the  brightest  of  her  beauty  and  the  height 
of  her  splendor.  T'ae  ex-actress  wrote  pretty  i)oetry,  and  was  the 
authoress  of  a  dozen  novels:  poetry  and  romances  are  now  forgot- 
ten ;  but  the  former  does  not  want  for  tenderness  of  sentiment  and 
expression,  nor  the  latter  for  power  and  good  sense.  Finally,  in 
1799,  she  undertook  the  poetical  department  of  the  Morning  Post, 
rt^tained  her  office  for  a  few  months,  and  died  in  the  year  1800. 

Perdita  was  not  without  her  grievous  faults ;  but  she  had  her 
virlues,  too.  She  was  the  loving  and  helping  child  of  her  mother, 
and  she  was  the  loving  and  helping  mother  of  her  child.  For  her 
mother  and  her  daughter  she  worked  at  her  literary  occupations 
with  unwearied  fervor,  and  even  Hannah  More  may  have  refrained 
from  casting  reproach  on  her  erring,  and  yet  not  worthless  pupil. 

In  1783  the  Prince  of  Wales  had  allotted  to  him  a  separate  es- 
tablishment.    He  could  have  none  more  approj)iiate  than  that  old 
Carlton  House,  which  had  been  the  residence  of  his  grandfather 
Frederick  Prince  of  Wales— a  man  whom  he  resembled  in  many 
respects.     The  old  house  was  originally  built  on  a  part  of  the 


86 


LIVES  OF  THE  QL^EENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


royal  garden  around  St.  James's  Palace,  a  lease  whereof  was 
«i:ranted  for  that  purpose  by  Queen  Anne  to  Henry  Boyle,  Lord 
Carlton.  This  was  in  1709.  Sixteen  years  subsequently,  on  the 
death  of  Lord  Carlton,  the  house  was  occupied  by  his  heir  and 
nepl  *Mv,  Ricl»ard  Boyle  (Lord  Burlington,  the  architect),  who 
seven  years  later  (1725)  gave  it  to  his  mother,  the  Dowager  Lady 
Burlington,  by  whom,  in  the  same  year,  it  was  made  over  to  Fred- 
erick Prince  of  Wales,  father  of  George  TIT.  The  garden-;,  hiid 
out  by  Kent,  like  Pope's  grounds  at  Twickenham,  extended  west- 
ward as  far  as  3Iarll>orousrh  House.  The  first  change  that 
Frederick  made  was  to  construct  a  bowling-green,  the  heahhy 
exercise  of  bowls  being  then  fashionable ;  and  he  inaugurated  liis 
entry  by  a  grand  ball,  given,  as  the  Daiig  Post  says,  *'  to  several 
persons  of  quality  and  distinction  of  both  sexes." 

George  Prince  of  Wales  found  the  old  house  rather  antiquated 
as  to  iashion,  and  dilapidated  as  to  condition ;  and   he  employed 
Holland,  the  architect,  to  correct  these  defects.     The  artist  did 
that,  and  more.     He  added  the  Ionic  screen,  some  of  the  pillars  of 
which  are  now  in  (^ueen  Charlotte's  favorite  gardens  at  Kew,  and 
the  Corinthian  portico,  the  columns  of  which,  when  the  house  was 
taken  down  in   IS'27,  were  transferred  to  the  National   Gallery. 
What  was  erected  especially  to  gratify  the  prince,  is  now  rendered 
useful  in  the  adorning  of  places  devoted  to  the  recreation  of  tlie 
people.     On  the  two  residences  of  the  two  eldest  sons  of  Queen 
Charlotte,  Southey,  in  his  *•  Espriella's  Letters,"  has  a  remark  worth 
quoting.     The  Duke  of  York's  mansion  (Melbourn  House,  White- 
hall), now  known  as  Dover  House,  wa^  distinguished  by  a  circular 
court,  which  served  as  a  sort  of  entrance-hall.     It  still  remains,  and 
may  be  seen  from  the  street.     The  distinguishing  feature  of  Carl- 
ton House  was  the  roAV  of  pillars  in  front.     '*  These  two  buildings 
being  described  to  the  late  Lord  North,  who  was  blind  in  the  hlUv 
part  of  his  life,  he  facetiously  remarked,—'  Then  the  Duke  of  York, 
it  should  seem,  has  been  sent  to  the   round-house,  and  the  Prince 
of  Wales  is  put  in  the  pillory.'  " 

Meanwhile,  despite  the  prince's  escapades,  tlie  queen's  afiection 
for  her  son  was  in  no  wise  diminislied.  In  1782  she  had  brought 
tambourinnr  ina  fashion,  by  embroidering  for  him,  with  her  own 


CHARLOTTE   SOPHIA. 


87 


i 


hands,  a  waistcoat,  which  he  wore  at  the  first  ball  at  which  his 
sister,  the  princess-royal,  appeared  in  public.  The  queen,  how- 
ever, had  more  serious  subjects  for  her  consideration.  She  had  to 
mourn  over  the  death  of  the  infant  Alfred,  and  for  the  loss  of  a 
sister.  We  find  also,  this  year,  the  first  direct  proof  of  her  having 
interfered  in  politics.  It  was  in  1782  that  Charlotte  commissioned 
Ilutten,  the  Moravian,  to  enter  into  correspondence  with  Franklin, 
Willi  a  view  of  conciliating  matters  with  the  United  States.  It  is 
enough  to  record  the  incident :  it  is  not  necessary  to  say  what  came 
of  it.     Let  us  return  to  the  prince.  « 

The  eldest  son  of  Queen   Charlotte  began  life  very  amply  pro- 
\ided  for:  parliament  gave  him  100,000/.  as  an  outfit,  and  oO,000/. 
annually  by  way  of  income.     Three   months  after  the  birth  of  his 
youngest  sister,  Amelia,  that  is  in   November,  1783,  he   took  his 
seat  in  the  House  of  Peers,  joined  the  oi)position,  gave  himself  up 
to  the  leading  of  the  opposition  chiefs,  whether  in  politics  or  vices, 
was  praised  by  the  people   for  his  spirit,  and  estranged  from  the 
king,  who  did  not  like  the  principles  of  those  who  called  themselves 
his  son's  friends,  and  who  held  in  horror  the  vices  and  follies  for 
which  they  were  distingui-jhed.     He   was  as  often  present  under 
the  gallery  of  the   Commons  as  in  his  seat  in  the  Lords.     Such  a 
firesence  is  never  acceptable,  in  such  a  place,  to  the  representa- 
tives of  the  people.     It  perhaps  influences  the  votes,  and  certainly 
afliects  the  liberty  of  debate.     As   n>uch  was  hinted  to  the  prince, 
when  he  used  to  watch  the  struggle  in  the  Commons  between  the 
coalition  and  Pitt.     He  made  the  hint  his  excuse  for  beintr  dist^u^t- 
cd  with  politics,  and  thereupon  devoted  himself  to  but  one  pursuit, 
— the  love  of  pleasure.     But  if  he  had  only  one  pursuit,  it  had 
many   varieties  and  objects.     He  hunted  after  what  was  called 
"  pleasure"  in  every  form,  squandered  fortunes  in  not  findino-  it  • 
and  made  what  he  called  "  love,"  and  extraordinary  presents  to 
the  ladies,  at  one  and  the  same  time.     Mrs.   Crouch,  the  actress, 
and  Mrs.  Fitzherbert,  were  the  Lnrt/  and  Pollt/  to  whom  this  lighf- 
of-heart  prince  gaily  sang  his  '•  How  happy  could  I  be  with  either !" 
He  was  far  less  hap[)y,  in  fact,  than  his  young  brother  Octaviu- 
who  died  in  1783,  of  small-pox.     The  older  prince  had  too  nianv 
subjects  of  embarrassment  to  admit  of  his  being  troubled  at  the  loss 


iSBiMiaa 


88 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


'4 


CHARLOTTE  SOPHIA. 


of  a  brother.     He  was  already  overwhelmed  with  debt.     The  do- 
mestic comfort  of  the  queen  was  even  more  disturbed  than  that  of 
her  consort  by  the  solicitations  made  by  the  so-called  friends  of  the 
Prince  of  Wales,  to  induce  the  king  to  pay  the  debts  of  his  eldest 
son.     Her  majesty's  confidence  is  said  to  have  been  fully  placed  at 
this  time  upon  Mr.  Pitt.     A  conversation  is  sjwken  of  as  having 
passed  between  the  queen  and  the  minister,  in  which  he  is  reported 
as  having  said,  "  I  much  fear,  your  majesty,  that  the  prince,  in  his 
wild  moments,  may  allow  expressions  to  escape  him  that  may  be 
injurious  to  the   crown."     "There  is  little  fear  of  that,"   was  the 
alleged  reply  of  the  queen  ;  "  he  is  too  well  aware  of  the  conse- 
quences of  such  a  course  of  conduct  to  himself.     As  regards  that 
point,  therefore,  I  can  rely  upon  him."     Mr.   Pitt  inquired  if  her 
majesty  was  aware  of  the  intimacy  which  then  existed  between 
Mrs.  Fitzherbert  and  the  heir-apparent,  and  that  reports  of  an  in- 
tended marriage  were  current?     "He  is  now  so  much  embar- 
rassed," added  the  minister,  "  that,  at  the  suggestion  of  his  friend 
Sheridan,  he  borrows  large   amounts  from  a  Jew,  who  reside?  in 
town,  and  gives  his  bonds  for  much  larger  amounts  tlian  he  re- 
ceives." 

In  the  family  dissensions  caused  by  this  unhappy  subject,  neither 
sire  nor  son  behaved  with  fairness   and  candor.     In   1784,  the 
prince  had  been  required  to  send  in  an  exact  account  of  his  debts, 
with  a  view  to  their  liquidation.     The  king  had,  at  least,  intimated 
that  he  would  discharge  the  prince's  liabilities  if  this  account  was 
rendered.     The  account  was  rendered ;  but,  after  having  been  kept 
for  months,  it  was  returned  as  not  being  exact.     The  inexactness 
of  this  statement  consisted  of  an  item  of  25,000/.  being  entered 
without  any  explanation  as  to  whom  it  was  owing.     The  prince' 
refused  to  make  such   explanation,  on  the  ground  that  it  was  a 
secret  of  honor  between  him  and  his  noble  creditor:  in   whom 
many  persons  affected    to  see  the  famous,  or  infamous,  Duke  of 
Orleans.     The  king  declared,  that  if  the  prince  was  ashamed  to 
cxplam  the  nature  of  the  debt,  his  father  ought  not  to  be  expected 
to  pay  It ;  and  there  the  matter  rested. 

By  the  fallowing  year  his  debts  amounted  to  1G0,000/.,  and  he 
could  see  no  chance  of  relief  but  by  going  abroad.     His  first  idea 


89 


I 


was  of  a  residence  in  Holland,  and  he  was  ready  to  proceed  thither 
as  a  private  individual,  should  the  king  refuse  to  consent  to  his 
going  abroad.  All  that  he  wished  for,  according  to  his  own  decla- 
rations, was  to  economize,  to  live  in  retirement,  and  remain  un- 
known, until  he  could  appear  in  a  style  suitable  to  his  rank.  He 
complained  of  the  unreasonableness  of  the  king's  proposition,  that 
he  should  lay  by  10,000/.  a  year  to  pay  his  debts,  at  a  time,  he 
said,  M'hen  his  expenses  were  twice  as  great  as  his  income.  Such 
complaint  could  only  come  from  a  radically  dishonest  man  ;  for  it 
is  only  such  a  man  who,  with  an  income  on  which  he  could  very 
well  afford  to  live — and  spare — could  complacently  talk  of  even 
allowing  his  expenses  to  exceed  his  revenue. 

The  prince  thought,  or  affected  to  think,  that  he  might,  perhaps, 
be  able  to  live  in  retirement  at  some  of  the  small  German  courts, 
fancying  that,  under  the  title  of  the  Earl  of  Chester,  his  actions 
would  not  be  judged  of  as  those  of  a  Prince  of  AVales.  At  all 
events,  he  declared,  that  to  live  in  England  would  be  ruin  and  dis- 
grace to  him,  for  that  the  king  hated  him,  wished  to  set  him  at 
variance  with  his  brothers,  and  would  not  even  let  parliament  as- 
sist him,  till  he  should  marry.  The  king's  hatred  for  his  son, 
according  to  the  latter,  had  existed  from  the  time  he  was  seven 
year's  old.  Reconciliation  was  deemed  by  the  prince  impossible; 
for  his  father,  he  said,  had  not  only  deceived  him,  but  made  him 
deceive  others.  The  son  could  not  trust  the  father,  and  the  father 
had  no  belief  in  the  veracity  of  the  son. 

The  ministry  were  not  disinclined,  at  this  time,  to  increase  the 
prince's  allowance,  provided,  only,  that  he  would  appropriate  some 
portion  of  it  to  the  payment  of  his  debts,  renounce  his  project  of 
going  abroad,  and  consent  to  a  reconciliation  with  the  king,  by 
ceasing  to  be  a  man  of  political  party  in  opposition  to  the  govern- 
ment. The  sum  proposed  was  100,000/.  per  annum,  the  half  of 
which  was  to  be  reserved  for  the  payment  of  his  debts.  The 
prince  descnbes  the  offer  as  useless,  inasmuch  as  that,  though  the 
ministry  might  sanction  it,  the  king  would  not  hear  of  it,  and  Pitt 
could  not  carry  such  a  measure  in  parliament.  The  prince  asserted 
his  belief,  that  so  rooted  was  his  father's  hatred  of  him,  that  he 
would  turn  out  Pitt  if  he  ventured  to  propose  such  a  measure. 


90 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  0^  ENGLAND. 


I. 
I 


Further,  the  prince  refused  to  abandon  Fox  and  his  other  political 
friends.  Lord  ^lalraesbury  was  very  anxious  to  bring  the  prince 
to  terms;  but  the  latter  still  dwelt  upon  the  bitter  paternal  hatred. 
In  proof  of  this  he  exhibited  to  Lord  Mahnesbury  copies  of  the 
correspondence  which  had  passed  between  himself  and  his  royal 
sire  on  the  subject.     Lord  Malmesbury  thus  describes  the  letters, 

and  the  spirit  which  animated  the  writers : 

"  The  prince's  letters  were  full  of  respect  and  deference,  written 
with  great  plainness  of  style  and  simplicity.     Those  of  the  kin- 
were  also  well  written,  but  hard  and  severe;  constantlv  refusing 
every  request  the  prince  made,  and  reprobating  in  each  of  them 
his  extravagance  and  dissipated  manner  of  living.    They  were  void 
of  every  expression  of  parental  kindness  or  affection,  and  after 
both  heanng  them  read  and  perusing  them  myself,  I  was  compelled 
to  subscribe  to  the  j.rinces  o],inion,  and  to  confess  there  was  very 
little  appearance  of  making  any  impression  upon  his  majesty  in 
favor  of  his  royal  highness."  ^ 

Lord  Malmesbury  suggested,  that  as  the  queen  must  have  much 
at  heart  the  bringing  about  a  reconciliation  between  her  son  and 
Ins  lather  such  might  surely  be  affected  through  her  and  his 
sisters  Ihe  prince  thought  it  impracticable,  and  only  wished  that 
the  public  knew  all  the  truth  .-md  could  judge  between  him  andhi< 
sire;  anticipating  a  favorable  verdict  lor  himself,  whic-h,  liowever 
the  public  would  not  have  given  even  whenui  possession  of  all  tlu' 
lucts. 

Lord  3Ialme.buo  Han  suggested  a  means  of  escape  from  all 
diftenlfes  by  a  marriage,  whieh  woul.l  at  once  reconcile  -he  kin.  an,I 
gra  .  r  the  nation.  The  prince,  however,  emphatically  dedarcd 
bat  he  would  never  marry,  that  he  had  settled  that  subject  with 
h,s  bro  her  Frederick,  and  that  his  resolution  was  irrevocable. 
Loid  .yalmesbury  combated  such  a  resolution,  but  the  prince  re- 
mame.1  unconv-inced.  He  owed  nothing,  he  sai.I,  ,o  the  kin.. 
Fredenck  would  marry,  and  his  children  would  inherit  the  c^wi: 

bnv  A    'T'n  "'? '^  •''•■"  "  '""''"^'•*'-  •''"S-  "^  '■«  ^'""W  l>e,wo,d,i 

and  father  o  clnldreu.  as  his  brother  would  be.     '•  The  prince  w.s 
g.-c.atly  struck  with  this  observation.     He  walked  abou   tl     rl 


CFIARLOTTE  SOPHIA. 


91 


apparently  angry ;"  but  after  a  few  friendly  woixls  of  explanation, 
the  interlocutors  separated,  and  the  scene  was  at  an  end. 

At  the  time  the  prince  said  he  never  would  marry,  he  had  in 
his  mind  that  serious  connection  (called  a  marriage)  which  he  had 
formed  with  Mrs.  Fitzherbert,  and  which  has  been  previously 
noticed.  We  may  add,  with  respect  to  this  union,  and  the  charac- 
ter of  the  prince  as  a  lover,  a  few  words  on  the  authority  of  Lord 
Holland. 

Never  did  swain  make  love  so  absurdly  as  the  Prince  of  Wales. 
For  the  "  first  gentleman  in  Europe,"  he  was  the  greatest  simple- 
ton, under  the  influence  of  "passion,"  that  ever  existed.     When  he 
was  not  silly,  he  was  mean,  and  he  sometimes  was  both,  and  heart- 
less to  boot,  even  when  he  most  prattled  of  the  heart-anguish  he 
endured.     To  Perdita   Robinson  he  was  little  better  than  a  mere 
bilking  knave.     In  presence  of  the  majestic  Mrs.    Fitzherbert  he 
was  an  undignified  coxcomb.     He  insulted  her  virtue,  with  propo- 
sals which  even  princes  ought  not  to  dare  to  make  without  bringing 
personal  chasti.<ement   upon  themselves.     Finding  his  offers  de- 
clined, and  that  the  lady  was  going  abroad,  he  acted,  and  declared 
he   felt,  the  utmost  despair.     But  his  despair  was  farcical.     He 
went  down  to  his  friends  the  Foxes,  at  St.  Anne's,  where  he  "cried 
by  the  hour,  testified  the  sincerity  and  violence  of  his  passion  and 
despair,  by  the  most  extravagant  expressions  and  actions,  rolling 
on  the  floor,  striking  his  forehead,  tearing  his  hair,  falling  into  hys- 
terics, and  swearing  he  would  abandon  the  country,  foreo-o  the 
crown,  sell  his  jewels  and  plate,  and  scrajie  together  a  competency, 
to  fly  with  the  object  of  his  afl^ections  to  America." 

The  lady  proceeded  to  the  continent,  but  retunied  in  1785.  She 
came  more  prepared  to  listen  to  the  prince's  wooing  than  when  she 
left.  He  now  proposed  a  marriage,  but  she  knew,  that,  she  beiu"- 
a  Romanist,  such  a  marriage  could  not  be  legal.  Indeed,  it  was 
illegal  (as  already  intimated)  for  any  prince  of  the  blood  to  marry 
without  the  king's  consent,  before  he  had  attained  the  age  of  twen- 
ty-five. After  that  time,  he  was  to  notify  his  intention  to  parlia- 
ment, and  if  that  body  did  not  move  the  king  to  withhold  his 
consent  within  a  year,  the  marriage  might  then  be  entered  upon. 
Mrs.  Fitzherbert,  however,  frankly  enough  said,  that  the  ceremony 


92 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS    OF  ENGLAND. 


CHARLOTTE  SOPHIA. 


93 


would  be  all  nonsense,  and  that  she  was  ready  to  trust  to  his  honor. 
He  insisted,  however,  and  the  ceremony  was  duly  pertormed  by  an 
English  clergyman.  After  the  solemnization,  the  certificate  was 
signed  by  the  clergyman,  and  attested  by  two  witnesses,  said  to 
have  been  Catholics.  Mrs.  Fitzherbert  retained  the  certificate ; 
but  out  of  a  generous  fear  that  harm  might  come  to  the  witnesses 
if  they  should  become  known,  she  tore  ot!'  their  names.  The  name 
of  the  clergyman  (who  died  before  George  IV.  ascended  the 
throne)  remains  atfixed  to  the  document. 

Mr.  Fox  was  not  present  at  this  ceremony,  but  reports  were  so 
current  as  to  its  being  about  to  take  place,  or  to  its  having  taken 
place,  that  he  addressed  to  the  prince  a  very  long,  a  very  strong, 
and  a  very  sensible  letter,  of  which  a  rough  copy  (from  Fox's  MS.) 
will  be  found  in  Lord  Holland's  Memoirs  of  the  Whig  party.  In 
this  manly  letter,  the  writer  points  out  the  madness  of  such  a 
scheme  ;  tlie  terrible  consecpiences  that  might  ensue ;  the  illegality 
of  the  manner,  and  the  possibility,  should  the  prince  enter  subse- 
quently into  a  legal  matrimonial  union,  and  there  being  issue  by 
both,  of  a  disputed  succession.  He  advised,  argued,  did  all  that  a 
bold  man  and  honest  friend  could  do  to  warn  the  prince  against 
this  union,  which,  as  we  before  mentioned,  Wiis  currently  reported 
to  have  taken  place.  The  prince,  in  reply,  declared  that  his 
"dear  Charles"  might  *'make  himself  easy;  as  there  not  onlv  is, 
but  never  was,  any  grounds  for  such  reports."  Armed  with  this 
authority,  Fox  denied  in  parliament,  on  the  warrant  of  the  ])rince, 
the  assertion  of  such  an  union  having  taken  place.  Tiie  wretched 
liar  who  had  driven  him  to  unconsciously  assert  a  falseiiood  was 
now  exposed  to  a  double  torment.  Mrs.  Fitzherbert  was  angiy  at 
the  public  denial,  supj)Osing  it  to  be  unauthorized,  and  urged  the 
prince  to  have  it  announced.  The  latter  i>revaricated  and  prom- 
ised ;  appealed  to  Grey,  confessing  his  marriage,  and  when  Grey 
would  have  nothing  to  do  with  it,  appealing  to  Sheridan  ;  the  latter 
made  a  few  remarks  in  the  house,  wide  of  the  real  object,  and  the 
marriage  remained  denied,  to  the  great  annoyance  of  the  lady,  who 
continued  to  be  respectfully  treated  by  the  royal  family.  These, 
if  they  disbelieved  the  existence  of  the  connection,  must  have 
looked  upon  Mrs.  Fitzherbert  as  being  less  worthy  of  their  respect 


than  before ;  the  truth,  however,  is  that  their  respect  was  chiefly 
manifested  when  Mrs.  Fitzherbert  separated  herself  from  her 
most  worthless  husband.  Documents  proving  the  marriage  (long 
in  the  possession  of  Mrs.  Fitzherbert's  family)  have  bee!i,  since 
June  1833,  actually  deposited  by  agreement  between  the  executors 
of  George  IV.  (the  Duke  of  Wellington  and  Sir  William  Knigh- 
ton) and  the  nominees  of  Mrs.  Fitzherbert  (Lord  Albemarie  and 
Lord  Stourton)  at  Coutts'  bank,  in  a  sealed  box,  bearing  a  super- 
scription :— "  The  property  of  the  Eari  of  Albemarie  ;  but  not  to 
be  opened  by  him  without  apprizing  the  Duke  of  AVellington,"  or 
words  to  that  purjwrt.* 

The  author  of  the  Diary  illustrative  of  the  court  of  George  IV., 
referring  to  the  time  when  the  eldest  son  of  Queen  CharioUe  was 
subdued  by  the  fascinations  of  Mrs.  Fitzherbert,  says,  that  the  lady 
in  question  "  had  a  stronger  hold  over  the  regent  tlian  any  of  the 
other  objects  of  his  admiration,  and  that  he  always  paid  her  the 
respect  which  her  conduct  commanded."     She  was  styled  by  those 
who  knew  her,  "  the  most  faultless  and  honorable  mistress  that  ever 
a  prince  had  the  good  fortune  to  be  attached  to;"  a  judgment 
which  abounds  in  a  confusion  of  terms,  and  exhibits  mental  per- 
version in  him  who  pronounced  it.     Of  the  regent's  behavior  to 
the  lady,  it  may  be  said  that  it  was  as  gallant  and  considerate,  at 
first,  as  it  was  mean  and  censurable  at  last.     In  the  early  days  of 
their  intimacy,  when  they  appeared  together  at  the  same  parties, 
and  were  on  the  point  of  leaving  them,  "  the  prince  never  forgot 
to  go  through  the  form  of  saying  to  Mrs.  F.,  with  a  most  respect- 
ful bow,  *  Madam,  may  I  be  allowed  the  honor  of  seeing  you  home 
in  my  carriage  ?'"     "  It  was  impossible,"  says  the  same  authority, 
"  to  be  in  his  royal  highness's  society,  and  not  be  captivated  by  the 
extreme  fascination  of  his  manners,  which  he  inherits  from  his 
mother,  the  queen;   for  his  father  has  every  virtue  which  can 
adorn  a  private  character,  as  well  as  make  a  king  respectable,  but 
he  does  not  excel  in  courtly  grace  or  refinement." 

It  should  be  added,  that  the  intelligence  no  sooner  reached  the 
ears  of  the  queen  than  she  commanded  the  attendance  of  her  son 

♦  Lord  Holland's  Memoirs  of  the  Whig  party. 


94 


LIVES  OF  THE    QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


CHARLOTTE   SOPHIA. 


95 


and  insisted  on  knowing  the  whole  truth.  The  prince  is  declared 
not  only  to  have  acknowledged  the  fact  of  the  marriage,  but  to 
have  asserted  that  no  power  on  earth  should  sei)ai-ate  him  from  his 
wife.  He  is  reported  to  have  added,  in  reference  to  the  king's 
alleged  marriage  with  Hannah  Lightfoot,  that  his  father  would 
have  been  a  happier  man  had  he  remained  firm  in  standing  by  the 
legality  of  his  own  marriage.  It  would  be  difficult  to  say  who  was 
at  hand  to  take  down  the  prince's  speech  on  this  occasion ;  but, 
according  to  the  author  last  named,  it  was  substantially  as  fol- 
lows : — "  But  I  beg  farther  that  my  wife  be  received  at  court,  and 
proportionately  as  your  majesty  receives  her,  and  pays  her  atten- 
tion from  this  time,  so  shall  I  render  my  attentions  to  your  ma- 
jesty. The  lady  I  have  married  is  worthy  of  all  homage,  and  my 
very  confidential  friends,  with  some  of  my  wife's  relations  only, 
witnessed  our  marriage.  Have  you  not  always  taught  me  to  con- 
sider myself  heir  to  the  first  sovereignty  in  the  world?  Where 
then  will  exist  any  risk  of  obtaining  a  ready  concurrence  from  the 
house  in  my  marriage  ?  I  hope,  madam,  a  few  hours'  reflection 
will  satisfy  you  that  I  have  done  my  duty  in  following  the  impulse 
of  my  inclinations,  and,  therefore,  I  await  your  majesty's  commands, 
feeling  assured  you  would  not  blast  the  happiness  of  your  favorite 
prince."  The  queen  is  said  to  have  been  softened  by  his  rather 
illogical  reasoning.  It  is  certain  that  her  majesty  received  Mrs. 
Fitzherbert  at  a  drawing-room  in  the  following  year,  with  very 
marked  courtesy.  Sixteen  years  later,  and,  of  course,  long  after 
the  marriage  of  the  Prince  of  Wales  with  Caroline  of  Brunswick, 
Mi's.  Fitzherbert  was  still  so  high  in  the  prince's  favor,  that  we 
find  the  following  record  in  Lord  INIalmesbury's  Diary,  under  the 
date  of  May  25, 1803  : — "  Duke  of  York  came  to  me  at  five.  Un- 
easy lest  the  duchess  should  be  forced  to  sup  at  the  same  table 
with  Mrs.  Fitzherbert,  at  the  ball  to  be  given  by  the  Knights  of 
the  Bath,  on  the  1st  of  June.  Talks  it  over  with  me — says  the 
king  and  queen  will  not  hear  of  it.  On  the  other  side  he  wishes 
to  keep  on  terms  with  the  prince.  I  say,  I  will  see  Lord  Henley 
who  manages  the  fete,  and  try  to  manage  it,  so  that  there  shall  be 
two  distinct  tables ;  one  for  the  prince,  to  which  he  is  to  invite 
another  for  the  duke  and  duchess,  to  which  she  is  to  invite  her 


company.  The  dislike  of  Mrs.  Fitzherbert  for  the  Duchess  of 
York  was  as  determined  as  that  entertained  by  the  !=ame  lady 
against  Fox,  whom  she  never  forgave  for  denying  the  fact  of  her 
marriage  with  the  prince." 

The  prince's  pecuniary  embarrassments  pressed  more  heavily 
upon  him  than  the  troubles  arising  from  his  amours.  The  prince, 
in  his  difficulties,  again  had  recourse  to  the  queen.  He  revealed 
to  her  the  amount  of  both  his  difficulties  and  debts,  and  reports 
credited  him  with  having  uttered  a  menace  to  the  effect,  that  if  the 
king  failed  to  pi-ovide  some  means  for  the  payment  of  those  debts, 
there  were  state  secrets  which  he  would  certainly  reveal,  whatever 
the  consequences  might  be ;  as,  suflfering  as  he  did  from  the  treat- 
ment wliich  he  met  at  his  father's  hands,  he  was  an  object  of  sus- 
picion or  contempt  to  half  the  kingdom.  The  queen  would  not 
engage  herself  by  any  promise,  but  she  sent  for  Mr.  Pitt.  After 
this  last  interview  the  minister  repaired  to  Carlton  House,  and  the 
message  he  bore  showed  the  amount  of  influence  possessed  by  the 
queen.  The  prince  was  assured  that  means  would  be  found  for 
the  discharge  of  his  liabilities.  The  king  promised  an  additional 
10,000/.  a-year  out  of  the  civil  list,  and  parliament  subsequently 
voted  the  sum  of  161,000/.  to  discharge  the  debts  of  the  prince, 
with  an  additional  sum  of  20,000/.  to  finish  the  repairs  of  Carlton 
Palace.  That  mansion  had  been  dull  and  silent,  but  it  was  soon 
again  brilliant,  and  gaily  echoing  with  the  most  festive  of  sounds. 


CHAPTER  Yl. 

COURT  FORMS  AND  COURT  FREEDOMS. 

The  loss  of  the  American  colonies,  and  the  triumph  of  Lord 
North  and  Fox,  two  men  whom  the  king  hated,  and  who  forced 
an  administration  upon  him,  had,  in  various  degrees,  a  serious 
effect  upon  his  health.      He  became  dejected,  but  when  Fox's 

Lidia  Bill  was  thrown  out  by  the  Lords,  he  had  the  firmness a 

firmness  suggested  by  the  queen— to  turn  the  obnoxious  cabinet 
out.  Pitt  succeeded  as  prime  minister,  and  no  one  saw  him  in 
that  post  with  greater  pleasure  than  Charlotte. 


) 


96 


\ 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAXD. 


She  continued  to  support  both  king  and  minister  tliroiigh  the 
tremendous  political  struggle  which  followed,  and  during  which, 
Pitt  more  than  once  expressed  his  determination  to  resign.     •'  In' 
such  case,  I  must  resign  too,"  said  the  king;  adding  that  he  would 
sooner  retire  with  the  queen  to  Hanover,  than  submit  to  a  minis- 
try whose  political  principles  he  detested.     The  public  admired 
his  fimmess,  and  for  a  season  he  was  again  popular,— popular,  but 
not  safe.     His  health  was  in  an  unsatisfactory  state ;  and  it  was  at 
a  season  when  he  required  to  be  kept  in  a  state  of  comiwsure,  that 
an  attempt  was  made  to  stab  him,  by  an  insane  woman  named 
Nicholson,  as  he  was  leaving  St.  James's  Palace  by  the  garden 
entrance,  on  the  2d  of  August,  178C.     As  he  received  a  paper 
which  she  presented,  the  woman  stabbed  at  him,  but  with  no  worse 
result  than  piercing  his  waistcoat. 

Before  we  show  how  the  news  of  this  attempt  was  received  at 
Windsor,  where  the  queen  was  then  sojourning,  we  may  glance 
briefly  at  the  nature  of  the  life  passed  there.  It  was  generally  of 
a  pleasing  aspect. 

The  benevolence  of  the  queen  and  her  consort  was  well  illus- 
trated m  their  conduct  to  Mrs.  Delany.     The  lady  in  question  was 
a  Granville  by  birth,  and  in  the  first  flush  of  her  youth  and  beautv 
ha.l  been  married,  against  her  inclination,  to  a  middle-a<.ed  squire' 
named  I'endarvis,  who  was  much  what  middle-aged  s<,ui.-es  were 
m  those  not  very  refined  days.     Mr.  and  Mrs.  Pendarvis  passed 
much  such  a  hie  as  that  described  by  the  young  AVidow  Cheerly 
as  having  been  that  of  herself  and  the  squire,  her  lord;  and  the 
lady,  too,  became  a  widow  almost  as  early.     She  was.  however 
of  mature  age  when  she  married  her  old  and  esteemed  acquaint-' 
ance,  Dr.  Delany,  the  friend  of  Swift.     After  being  a  second 
time  a  widow,  she   found  a  home  with  the  Dowager  Duchess  of 
Portland,  and  when  death  deprived  her  of  this  friend  aUo   she 
found  a  new  home,  and  new  friends,  in  Queen  Charlotte  and  kin. 
George.     Ihey  assigned  to  her  a  house  in  the  Mind.sor  Park  in 
.he  fitting  up  of  which  both  queen  and  king  took  great  per tna 
.n.eres,..md  the   former  settled   upon   her^n  annuity  of  30  J 
a-year.     AUen  the  good  old  lady  went  down  to  take  posses  ion  If 
her  new  habitation,  the  king  was  the,,  ready  to  recX     r  "e  I 


CFIARLOTTE   SOPHIA. 


97 


son  establishing  a  mother  in  a  new  home.  His  courtesy  was  felt 
and  it  was  of  the  right  sort,  for  while  it  brought  him  there  to  wel- 
come the  new  guest,  it  would  not  allow  him  to  stay  to  embarrass 
her.  A  good  act  may  be  marred  in  the  performance,  but  it  was 
not  so  here.  With  similar  delicacy,  when  the  queen  came  down 
to  visit  her  new  neighbor,  she  put  her  at  once  at  her  ease,  by  her 
own  affability ;  and  when,  before  leaving,  she  placed  in  Mrs.  De- 
lany's  hands  the  paper  signed  by  the  king,  and  authorizing  her  to 
draw  her  first  half-year  of  her  little  revenue,  it  was  done  with  a 
grace  which  prevented  the  object  of  it  from  feeling  that  she  was 
reduced  to  the  condition  of  a  pensioner. 

These  parties  remained,  as  long  as  Mrs.  Delany  lived,  on  terms 
of  as  much  equality  as  could  exist  between  persons  so  different  in 
rank.  In  Mrs.  Delany's  little  parlor,  the  queen  would  frequently 
take  tea.  It  was  a  social  banquet  in  which  she  delighted ;  and 
years  afterwards  in  her  old  age,  she  was  as  fond  of  going  down  to 
Datchet  to  take  tea  with  Lord  James  Murray  (afterwards  Lord 
Glenlyon,  father  of  the  present  Duke  of  Athol)  as  she  was  at  this 
early  period  of  enjoying  the  same  "  dish  "  with  the  fine  old  "  gen- 
tlewoman," who  was  her  most  grateful  pensioner.  Queen  \nd 
widow  corresponded  with  each  other,  lived  as  ladies  in  the  coun- 
try who  esteem  each  other  are  accustomed  to  live ;  and  when  the 
doctor's  relict  had  not  what  was  to  her,  good  old  soul,  the  supreme 
bliss  of  entertaining  the  queen,  she  enjoyed  the  inexpressible  feli- 
city of  receiving  at  tea,  the  young  princes  and  princesses.  A 
riotous,  romping,  good-natured  group  these  made,  and  many  a  sore 
head-ache  must  they  have  inflicted  on  the  aged  lady,  who  was  too 
loyal  to  be  anything  but  proud  of  such  an  infliction  incurred  in 
such  a  cause. 

The  letters  of  Queen  Charlotte  to  her  "  dear  friend  "  are  not  of 
sufficient  interest  to  bear  quoting.  They  are  on  small  subjects,  ex- 
pressed in  a  small  way,  and  terminating  with  a  mixture  of  conde- 
scension and  dignity,  with  good  wishes  from  "your  affectionate 
queen." 

^Irs.  Delany  speaks  in  her  own  letters  with  well-warranted 
praise  of  one  circumstance  which  marked  the  routine  of  royal  life 
at  Windsor.    Every  morning  throughout  the  year,  at  eight  o'clock, 


98 


LIVES  OF  THE  QLEE.NS  OF  EXGLAXI). 


he  queen  kan.ng  on  the  king's  arm,  led  her  fiunily  procession  (o 
the  thapel  Rojal,  for  the  purpose  of  attending  early  mornin" 
prayer.     There  are  some  persons  who  look  upon  tliese  daily  *ei° 
viees  as  Popish:  and.  if,he-e  be  lazily  as  well  as  fcW«  inclined 
they  denounce  the  early  service  a^  cruel.     They  are  doubtless  .in^ 
cere  m  their  views  and  denunciations,  but  they  aro  certainlv  as 
mistaken  ;  a.,d  one  of  the  most  pleading  features  in  the  nue'ens 
routme  o,  dady  life.  wa.  to  be  found  in  this  exemplar,-  pra'ic.  .^f 

n  her  at.end:mce  at  the  altar  of  the  Lord.     I,  should  be  notic^ed 

her  example ;  ..he  lelt  u  to  the  cons<.-iences  of  aU.     She  was  inde- 
1-uden,.  ,00.  m  her  opinions,  and  though  she  joined  ferventlv  ^.h 
.he  kn.g  m  the  prayer.  ••  Give  peace  in  our  time.  O  Lonf-  .nd 
tuWledged  (with  more  truth  than  the  ste^tv,K^i  exl«L 
it.elt  would  seem  to  convey,— so  illo-rical  is  it  will,"   ,    ■    ^"r'"" 
-hecause.",  that  none  othe^  .ought  for  uf  but  G:^  ^.Tefwrd 
.he  no.  rem:ju,  silent.  ,u<  the   king  invariably  did.  when  .he  X^n 
..:.,an  Cr.>ed  was  being  rej^ated.     That  awVul  and  overwhelm  n" 
judicatory  denm,ci.ntion  at  the  close  shocked  the  mind  ofTml!^'  ! 
-hose  own  pen.^  „^,,  however,  were  the  most  s.m<^™a^  i! 
turope.     The  .jueen.  as  is  the  case  witl.  m,.  ,  1   ..""^'"f^  «• 

claimed  :  ••  Whit  i  fin..    . .    ^     •  "'''  'l"*^*'"'  ^^  ^x- 

CnKHh.ess  me:  madam  .-he  excbims.  ..dmirini  ~ 

^naeea.  ^he  picked  up  much  aciiniinr.>n  ^     •  k 


CHARLOTTE  SOPHIA. 


99 


friend,  yet  in  no  re.-!pect  as  a  serrant.  Gracious  as  was  the  recep- 
tion, the  young  lady  was  not  sorry  to  escape  to  the  dinner-table  of 
the  bdies  and  gentlemen-in-waiting.  How  graphicaUy  does  she 
describe  the  German  officer  there,  who  was  in  waiting  on  the 
queen's  brother,  Prmce  Charles  of  Mecklenburgh :  "  He  could 
never  finish  a  si)eech  he  had  begun,  if  a  new  di.'-h  made  its  ap- 
pearancjp,  without  stopping  to  feast  his  eyes  uj>on  it,  exclaim  some- 
thing in  German,  and  suck  the  inside  of  his  mouth ;  but  all  >o  openly, 
and  with  such  perfect  good-humor,  that  it  was  diverting  without 
anything  distasteful."  The  old  ceremonious  forms  had  not  yet 
become  quite  extinct  at  court.  Men  did  not  kneel  on  serving  the 
queen,  but  they  never  sat  down  in  her  presence.  How  they  con- 
trived to  dine  comfortably  at  the  royal  table  defies  conjecture,  if 
the  following  paragraph  is  to  be  taken  literally :  "  I  find  it  has  al- 
ways belonged  to  Mrs.  Schwellenburgh  and  Mrs.  Haggerdom  to 
receive  at  tea  whatever  company  the  king  or  queen  invite  to  the 
lodge,  as  it  is  only  a  very  select  few  tliat  can  eat  with  their  majes- 
ties, and  those  few  are  only  ladies ;  no  man,  of  what  rank  soever, 
being  permitted  to  sit  in  the  queen's  presence."  The  royal  table 
then  must  have  been  the  dullest  in  the  palace,  and  no  wonder  is  it 
tliat  bishops,  peers,  officers,  and  gentlemen  enjoyed  themselves  so 
thoroughly,  in  less  dignity  and  more  comfort,  with  the  maids  of 
honor,  and  ladies  of  less  official  greatness. 

Nothing  was  well  more  homely  and  hearty  than  the  promenades 
made  by  the  illustrious  couple,  their  children  all  about  them,  on 
the  terrace  of  an  evening ;  or  when  they  assembled  in  the  concert- 
room,  where  ^  nothmg  was  played  but  Handel."  The  time  wa-  a 
transition  time ;  feudality  was  growing  faint,  and  the  best  of  kings 
were  losing  their  prestige  of  infallibility.  Still  there  was  much  of 
ceremony  both  at  bed  and  board ;  that  of  the  latter  has  been  al- 
ready mentioned.  That  at  bed-time  was  not  so  cumbersome  as  the 
ceremony  observed  at  the  coucher  of  Marie  Antoinette,  but  it  was 
still  of  a  high  and  ponderous,  yet  affectionate,  formahty.  The 
queen  was  handed  into  her  dressing-room  by  the  king,  followed  by 
the  Princess  Royal  and  the  Princess  Augusta.  The  kincr,  on 
leaving  the  room,  kissed  his  daughters,  who  in  their  turn  ceremo- 
niously kissed  their  royal  mother's  hand,  and  bade  her  '•good 


100  LIVES  OF  TIJK  giEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 

iiight."  This  done,  tl.e  queen  i.Iaced  herself  in  the  liands  of  her 
•  women  who  in  as  brief  a  time  as  was  consistent  with  the  di-nity 
of  her  whom  thej  tended,  fitted  the  rojal  lady  for  repose.  °The 
queen  u  may  be  added,  was  as  rigidly  i>oli,e  as  Louis  XIV.  him- 
.elt.  The  latter  never  passed  a  woman,  even  though  she  were  the 
owest  servant  in  the  palaee,  without  .lightly  ^-li^Jng  his  la  ^ 
Plumed  hat.     So  Queen  Charlotte  paid,  Tvith  a  forn^al  Ln^y 

peiVrfhe'rh''"?'',^'"";"'"'"'  ""  '"^^'"°"  "f '""•'  P-'i'!oned 
pews^  m    he  Chapel  Koyal,  to  prevent  the  flirting  that  was  eon- 

Z'frf  Z  '''"""  ""  "''"'"  *■""!  '"-''^  ofhonor.     Upon 
l.tiar  otte  had  appointed  sei.arate  tables  for  the  ladies  and  atn,U 
men-m-wa,ting ;  but  a.she  did  not  forbid  the.n  o  h^e'eh^ttr' 

The  nueen-    '!,  «'^  •'''•  f /^"^  only  nominally  maintained. 

n^oni         an  OH    Z"t;''r"f  f  "  ^"^  "'''""''  '^'^''^  -- 
Her  new  "  dres  er  "  Mi'    tT  """"'^''^■^^  "<"  «i">out  its  formality. 

bell,  andwa.  -Nervous  a^To  tar  hW^^ 

permtted  to  romnin  ir^  *k«  -tTMct.s.     j\o  maid  was 

was  -tirin.^-'     On    lit  ""T""'  ''""""  ""■  "•"«  "'«  q-en 

of  dress  required     JtI'  fir",    r"*^'  '"  ""  '"''^'-  "^  Po''-"^ 
iiiiuirea.        i 's  fortunate  for  me  "  si v«  Ar;..  n 

tave  not  the  handing  of  them     I  ,ho„W  1       ^,  "'■'"'^ "  "  -^ 

first,  embarrassed  a^  I  am  and  tr  "^  ""'' "■'''^'"» '«''« 
giving  the  gown  befo  el;  i  1'  -"  "  ."--Jigious  risk  of 
erchief."  ' '  "'"'  ""^  '""  before  the  neck- 

The  actual  " dressing  for  the  lU,.-",^  i      i 
and  included  the  then^lalj!:  t^.'.^o    ^l^Tf' 
ha,r-dresser  was  admitted  for  the  completion  of  , I    1'  .  ' 

the  queen  while  being  dressed   read  .1^  '  '"''"''''■' 

thepowderer  came    she  ^  ,^U  Tl        ""='"PaP'»^ !  but  when 
viously  coveredTer'uo  in  J  -'"'ndants,  who  had  pre- 

".e  «4..  Who  r  "c  rkreV:,^:^.'' •"  '^'■'  -"-  '"'■ 

oueenmust  have  looked  in  receiving  :re?„:;rjrrr;; 


CHART.OTTE   SOPHIA. 


101 


.lit 


f 


powder   which   he    continued   to   fling   at   and   about   the    royal 
head. 

But  there  was  another  sort  of  powder  patronized  by  the  queen 
— the  mother  of  George  IV.  condescended  to  take  snuff.  In  the 
admixture  and  scent  of  these,  she  was  curious  and  learned  ;  and 
Miss  Buniey  filled  her  boxes  and  damped  the  contents  when  they 
had  got  too  dry,  to  her  great  satisfaction.  If  ladies  should  be  cu- 
rious to  know  how  deliciously  tempting  the  queen's  mixture  pre- 
sented itself  to  the  nose,  they  would  do  well  to  address  themselves 
to  the  time-honored  establishment  known  by  the  names  of  Fribourg 
and  Treyer.  The  old  firm  in  the  Hajinarket  has  yet,  we  doubt 
not,  some  pungent  reminiscences  of  the  old  snuff-taking  times  in 
the  palace. 

There  is  a  fashion  in  country-towns,  observed  by  ladies  who  go 
out  in  chairs  to  parties,  consisting  in  their  carrying  with  them  some 
portion  of  their  dress  to  be  adjusted  at  the  locality  where  they  are 
about  to  spend  the  evening.  This  fashion  too  is  a  relic  of  the  days 
of  Queen  Charlotte.  "  On  court  days,"  says  Miss  Burney,  "  the 
queen  dresses  Irer  head  at  Kew,  and  puts  on  her  drawing-room 
apparel  at  St.  James's.  Her  new  attendant  dresses  all  at  Kew 
except  tippet  and  long  ruffles,  which  she  carries  in  paper,  to  save 
from  dusty  roads."  It  was  the  etiquette  at  St.  James's  that  the 
finishing  of  the  queen's  dressing  there  should  be  the  work  of  the 
bedchamber  woman.  It  consisted  of  little  more  than  tying  the 
necklace,  handing  the  fan  and  gloves,  and  bearing  the  queen's  tniin 
as  she  left  the  room.  This  she  did  alone,  only  as  far  as  the  ante- 
room, there  the  lady  of  the  bedchamber  became  the  "  first  train- 
bearer,"  and  the  poor  queen  had  two  annoyances  to  put  up  with 
instead  of  one. 

From  the  cumbrous  ceremonies  of  St.  James's,  the  queen  was 
glad  enough  to  escape  to  Kew.  At  the  latter  place,  indeed,  cere- 
mony, as  far  as  the  royal  family  was  concerned,  was  left  outside 
the  gates.  The  sovereigns  were  thoroughly  "  at  home,"  and  the 
queen  enjoyed  a  *'  country  life,"  not  as  Marie  Antoinette  did,  a 
dairy-maid  in  diamonds,  at  Trianon,  but  as  a  simple  English  coun- 
try lady.  The  foreigners  who  visited  the  court  at  this  time  were 
disgusted  by  the  republican  look  which  it  wore.  It  was  simple  and 
plain  enough,  at  Kew  that  is,  to  have  pleased  even  Franklin.    The 


102 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  EKGLAND. 


hng  was  really  there  what  he  was  popularly  callo.l  everywhere, 
J  armor  George,"  the  queen  was  his  true  dome,  the  plainest  of 
the  plain  things  around  her.  The  children,  that  is  the  youn-^er 
^rtion  of  them,  were  as  unaffected  as  their  parents,  and  the  iit'tle 
Princess  Amelia  was  the  fairy  of  the  place;  if  one  may  speak  of  a 
fairy  in  connection  with  fanning.  However  grave  the  kin-,  mi^ht 
look,  through  pressure  of  public  events,  the  little  hand  of  the  Prin- 
cess Amelia,  placed  by  the  queen  in  his,  always  touched  his  heart, 
and  a  look  into  the  child's  eyes  ever  bn,ught  a  smile  into  his  own. 

A^J    ,",'^     .'  T'^  ''"'"'^   ""''^'^  ^  ^  f'^'^'''^  h-ort  than 

adore  n       '"  1  V'  '""''''  "'^     ^''«  ''"^*^"  '«^«'''  ^"^  ">e  king 
ado^d  her     At  Ke  w,  father  and  child  appeared  more  unrestrained 

in  the  hearty  demonstrations  of  their  love  than  elsewhere.    Indeed 

evei^thing  at  Kew  was  free  and  unrestrained  ;  and  i,  was  no  of- 

Jnce  t  ere,  if  any  of  the  attendants  .^  ,..  J  rem  the  dl  o 

«  hich  was  open,  and  somebo<ly  royal  within.     In  France,  they  who 

de  .red  to  enter  an  apartment  in  which  the  queen  was  in,  era  cLd 

C  arir-  .""'1  "'  ""  ''^'-  ^"  E"'^'-"''  «'  '--t  in  Qu  en 
th  h  1  e  H'  •  f  '«'>-"<^,-as  also  not  to  knock  at,  but  to  shake 
the  Handle  of  the  door.  Another  ceremony  was  obsened  in  order 
to  aro,d  ceremony.  When  royal  biHh.lays  occurred  du  "n^te 
queen's  stay  at  Windsor,  the  family  walked  „u  the  te^a  e  whk^ 
«as  crowded  with  people  of  distinction,  who  took     ha    mo^e  ^ 

-  PHncess=Ameii::;r„  b/tr  xr;™:!:  "••'"- " 

t  was  really  a  mighty  pretty  procession.  The  little  nrince« 
just  turned  three  years  old.  in  a  robe-coat  covered  witl  fine  ™,X 
a  dressed  clo,e  cap,  white  gloves,  and  a  fan.  walked  on  alone      "d' 

to  set  e>erjbo<ly  as   she  passed  ;  for  all  the  tcn-acers  .t  „  .>   Z 

against  the  walls  to  make  a  clear  passac^e  for  the  rov  ,1  f.,„  '       7 

pent  .key  come  in  sigh,.     The'  foltowl     n^and  r;;  Z 

The  ?.  •'"  "^T^"-'  -'"  «he  Joy  of  their  litt.^rrlr.''.  '  " 

The  Princess  Boyal,  at  this  time,  is  said  to  have  sho«„  more 


M 


iss  Bumey's  Diary. 


I 


CHARLOTTE  SOPHIA. 


103 


f 


respect  and  humility  for  her  parents  than  any  of  the  other  children 
of  the  family.  She  passed  on  in  this  birth-day  procession,  accom- 
panied by  ladies,  and  her  sisters  similarly  accompanied,  followed 
her.  Happy  were  they  to  whom  queen  or  king  addressed  a  few 
words,  as  they  stopped  on  their  way ;  and  astounded  were  the 
adorers  of  etiquette  when  they  saw  the  little  Princess  Amelia,  on 
recognizmg  Miss  Bumey,  not  only  go  up  to  kiss  her,  but  actually 
kissed  by  her.  The  queen  herself  was  probably  more  surprised 
than  pleased.  But  it  was  a  birth-day !  At  other  seasons,  etiquette 
was  so  rigidly  observed  (always  excepting  at  Kew),  that  the  chil- 
dren of  the  royal  family  never  spoke  in  presence  of  the  king  and 
queen,  except  to  answer  observations  made  to  them.  The  queen, 
too,  as  well  as  she  wa^  able,  watched  over  the  religious  education 
of  her  daughters,  and  always  assembled  them  around  her  to  listen 
to  a  course  of  religious  reading  by  herself.  This  she  did  with 
gravity  and  good  judgment,  as  became  indeed  a  woman  of  ordina- 
ry good  sense. 

We  have  already,  incidentally,  noticed  the  attempt  made  upon 
the  life  of  the  king  by  Margaret  Nicholson.  The  attack  was  not 
known  to  the  queen  till  it  was  announced  to  her  by  the  king  in 
pei-son.  As  soon  as  the  poor  mad  woman  had  been  arrested,  the 
Spanish  ambassador  had  posted  down  to  Windsor,  to  be  in  readiness  to 
inform  her  majesty  of  the  truth,  in  case  of  miy  exaggerated  reports 
reaching  her  ear.  When  the  king  entered  the  queen's  apartment 
at  Windsor,  on  his  return  from  London,  he  wore  rather  a  joyous 
air,  and  exclaimed  in  a  naturally  joyous  tone,  "  Well,  here  I  am, 
safe  and  well,  though  1  have  had  a  very  narrow  escape  of  being 
stabbed."  The  consternation  in  the  family  circle  was  great; 
several  of  the  ladies  burst  into  tears,  for  every  one  was  fond  of 
George  HI.,  albeit  he  was  accused  of  Stuart  fondness  for  the  exer- 
cise of  kingly  prerogative.  The  queen  alone  did  not  at  first  weep, 
but  pale  and  agitated  she  turned  round  to  those  who  did,  and  said 
that  she  envied  them.  The  relief  of  tears,  however,  soon  compar- 
atively restored  her,  and  she  was  enabled  with  some  outward  show 
of  calmness,  to  listen  to  the  king's  details  of  the  occurrence.  Into 
these  he  entered  with  the  hilarity  of  a  man  whose  feelings  are 
naturally  not  very  finely  strung,  but  who  is  strongly  persuaded  that 


104  LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 

escape  from  assassination  is  rather  a  matter  to  be  jocund  than 
solemn  over.     He  did  not  want  for  a  sense  of  gratitude  at  his  es- 
cape but  nothins?  could  prevent  his  being  gay  oyer  it.  lie  told  the 
details,  therefore,  as  though  they  partook  something  of  a  joke    He 
noticed  that  the  knife  had  slightly  cut  or  grazed  his  waistcoat,  and 
said  he,  "  It  was  great  good  luck  that  it  did  not  go  further.    There 
was  nothing  beneath  it  but  some  thin  linen  and  a  good  deal  of  fet  " 
The  matter,  however,  pressed  heavily  on  the  spirits  of  the  queen, 
bhe  dreaded  lest  this  attempt  should  be  only  a  part  of  a  great 
conspmicy,  and  feared  tliat  the  conspirators  would  not  rest  satUficd 
with   the  mere  attempt.     The  idea  was  natural  at  the  time,  for 
democracy  then  was  daily  barking  at,  if  not  biting,  kings,  and  so 
universally  spread  was  the  feeling  through  one  class,  throughout 
Europe,  that  the  King  of  England  had  no  cause  to  deem  himself 
specially  exempt  from  such  attempts.     George  III.  had  the  coura- 
geous spirit  common  to  most  of  the  princes  of  his  house,  and  would 
not  stand  aloof  from  his  people,  because  the  princes  of  other  houses 
were  at  issue  with  Iheir  people.     The  queen  felt  greater  distrust 
but  she  was  partially  re-assured  by  the  tone  taken  by  the  English 
papers.     The  pulpit  and  the  press  spoke  out  in  tones  which  showed 
that,  however  the  country  might  be  divided  upon  questions  con- 
nected wuh  politics,  it  would  not  tolerate  the 'idea'of  regidX 
These  things  Were  known  to  Queen  Charlotte,  and  comforted  the' 
poor  lady,  who  or  a  time  could  not  think  of  her  husband  bein! 
present  in  London,  without  a  sp.nsmodic  horror.     She  pored  over 
he  English  papers,  in  order  to  draw  from  them  comfort  and  conso- 
lation, and  It  was  when  reading  one  of  the  warmly  loyal  arlicies 
herein,  beginning  with  the  words  of  the  coronation  anthem, "  Lo  g 
live  the  King !  may  the  King  live  forever !"  that  she  shed  the  mos! 
copious  tears  that  yet  had  fallen  from  her;  and  drew  comfort  from 
what  she  read      Perhaps  the  wonls  brought  back  to  her  reeolir 
t.on  the  period  a  quarter  of  a  century  before,  when  she  had  listen- 
ed to  that  anthen,  for  the  first  time,  and  glancing  back  ov       he 
ong  period  that  had  since  elapsed,  she  perhaps  dared  to  hope  t  n^ 
he  protection  which  had  been  so  far  vouchsafod,  would  be'c^n. t. 
ued.     Another  quarter  of  a  century  indeed  was  vouchsafed  before 
the  splendor  of  the  reign  began  to  wane  in  the  mental  gloom  IZl 


CHARLOTTE   SOPHIA. 


i  I 


105 


settled  around  the  king ;  but  already  had  begun  those  domestic 
troubles  which  were  inflicted  upon  her  by  the  uniilial  conduct  of  her 
heartless,  eldest  son. 

At  present,  however,  she  could  only  think  of,  and  be  grateful 
for  the  escape  of  the  king.  Loyalty  visited  her  somewhat  oppres- 
pively  in  its  congratulations,  and  the  next  drawing-room  was  so 
crowded,  and  its  ceremonies  so  long,  that  the  queen  was  half-dead 
with  fatigue,  before  it  was  over.  She  found  rest  and  welcome 
sympathy  at  ever-pletisant  Kew.  There  the  inhabitants  welcomed 
their  royal  patrons  with  a  zeal,  warmth,  beer-drinking  and  fire- 
works, such  as  had  not  been  exceeded  in  any  part  of  the  empire. 
But  it  was  a  sort  of  honor-festival  in  which  the  queen  could  partake 
without  fatigue.  She  enjoyed  it  heartily,  and  more  emphatically 
than  was  her  wont,  even  when  most  pleased,  she  exclaimed,  "  I 
shall  love  little  Kew  for  this,  as  long  as  I  live ! " 

We  have,  in  a  previous  page,  noticed  that  the  queen,  soon  after 
her  accession,  expressed  her  contempt  for  what  she  had  before 
exceedingly  admired, — precious  stones  and  jewels.  When  Char- 
lotte, on  her  first  visit  to  the  City,  charmed  even  the  eyes  of  the 
fair  quakeresses  who  surrounded  her  at  the  Barclays',  by  the 
splendor  of  her  diamonds,  she  already  had  the  reputation  of  pos- 
sessing a  desire  for  acquiring  precious  stones.  Such  desire  was  at 
one  time  a  mere  fasliion,  like  the  mania  which  squandered  thou- 
sands on  a  flower,  or  the  madness  which,  at  a  later  period  pre- 
vailed, to  be  possessed,  at  whatever  cost,  of  porcelain. 

The  people  were  reminded  of  the  queen's  fondness  for  diamonds, 
at  the  period  when  the  name  of  Warren  Hastings  began  to  be  un- 
pleasantly canvassed  in  England.  The  return  of  that  remarkable 
personage  from  India,  was  preceded  by  that  of  his  scarcely  less 
-remarkable  wife.  Soon  after  her  arrival,  Mrs.  Hastings  appeared 
at  court,  and  nothing  could  exceed  the  graciousness  of  the  recep- 
tion she  met  with  from  Queen  Charlotte.  The  popular  tongue 
soon  wagged  audaciously,  if  not  veraciously,  on  this  royal  welcome 
to  a  lady  who  was  commonly  said  to  have  come  to  England  with 
a  lapfuU  of  diamond.-^.  For  such  glittering  presents,  it  was  said 
that  Queen  Charlotte  sold  her  favor  and  protection.  There  was, 
no  doubt,  much  exaggeration  in  the  matter,  but  the  supposed  pro- 


's© ^ 


5* 


106 


LIVES   OF  THE    QUEENS   OF   ENGLAND. 


CHARLOTTE  SOPHIA. 


107 


tection  of  the  court,  and  the  alleged  manner  in  which  it  was  said 
to  have  been  purchased,  was  as  injurious  to  Hastings  as  any  of  the 
invectives  thundered  against  him  by  Burke.     At  the  time  that  the 
monster  impeachment  was  going  on,  a  present  from  the  Nizam  of  the 
Deccan  to  the  king  arrived  in  England.    It  was  a  splendid  diamond, 
and  was  consigned,  for  presentation,  to  Warren  Hastings,  who  handed 
it  over  to  Lord  Sydney,  but  who  was  present  himself  at  the  time, 
when  that  nobleman  duly  offered  the  glittering  gift  to  the  king 
Its  ready  acceptance,  at  a  time  when  Hastings  was  on  his  trial, 
was  misconstrued,  and  that  popular  voice  which  so  often  errs,  not- 
withstanding the  assertion  that  when  uttered  it  is  divinely  inspired, 
immediately  concluded  that  at  least  a  bushelftdl  of  diamonds,  pre- 
sented to  the  king  and  queen,  had  bought  impunity  for  the  alleged 
great  offender.    Ridicule,  satire,  caricature,  violent  prose,  and  exe- 
crable rhyme,   were  levelled  at  both   their   majesties  in  conse- 
quence,—and,  doubtless,  the  latter  wore  all  the  piled  measure  of 
diamonds  which  had  fallen  to  her  share.     According  to  those  who 
were  about  the  person  of  the  queen,  she  had  better  jewels  in  her 
virtues  than  in  caskets  of  precious  gems.     Miss  Bui.iey,  in  her 
portrait  of  the  queen,  may  be  said  to  contemplate  her  through 
pink-colored  spectacles.     But  setting  aside  what  predilection  in- 
duces  her  to  say,  enough  remains  to  satisfy  an  unprejudiced  person 
that  there  was  much  amiability,  penetration,  and  good  sen^e  in  the 
character  of  Charlotte.     She  was  more  dignified  in  her  visits  at 
the  houses  of  subjects  than  even  her  predecessors  had  been.     She 
preferred  reading  the  Spectator  to  reading  novels,  and  indeed  had 
very  little  regard  for  novel-writers  ;-and  none  at  all  for  ]\Iadame 
de  Genhs,  with  whom  she  very  wisely  counselled  Miss  Burney  not 
to  correspond.     Of  the  affection  which  existed  between  the  queen 
and  her  husband,  here  is  a  pretty  incident :-- The  queen  had  no- 
body but  myself  with  her  one  morning,  when  the  king  hastily  en- 
tered the  room  with  some  letters  in  his  hand,  and  addressing  her  in 
German,  wliich  he  spoke  very  fast,  and  with  much  apparem  inter- 
est  in  what  he  said,  he  brought  the  letters  up  to  her  and  put  them 
into  her  hand.     She  received  them  with  much  agitation,  but  evi- 
dently  of  a  much  pleased  sort,  and  endeavored  to  kiss  his  hand  as 
he  held  them.     He  would  not  let  her,  but  made  an  effort,  with  a 


11 


^ 


countenance  of  the  highest  satisfaction,  to  kiss  her.  I  saw  instantly 
in  her  eyes,  a  forgetfulness  at  the  moment  that  any  one  was  pres- 
ent, while  drawing  away  her  hand,  she  presented  him  her  cheek. 
He  accepted  her  kindness  with  the  same  frank  affection  that  she 
offered  it ;  and  the  next  moment  they  both  spoke  English,  and 
talked  upon  common  and  general  subjects.  What  they  said  I  am 
far  enough  from  knowing ;  but  the  whole  was  too  rapid  to  give  me 
time  to  quit  the  room ;  and  I  could  not  but  see  with  pleasure  that 
the  queen  had  received  some  favor  with  which  she  was  sensibly 
delighted,  and  that  the  king,  in  her  acknowledgments,  was  happily 
and  amply  paid."*  This  sort  of  incident,  it  may  be  said,  is  of 
common-place  frequency  in  private  life,  short  of  the  hand-kissing ; 
but  it  also  serves  to  show  that  there  was  an  affection  existing  at 
this  period  which,  hapi)ily,  is  not  a  rare  one  in  common  life.  And 
Charlotte  could  condescend  to  the  level  of  that  so-called  common 
life,  and  to  them  who  belonged  to  it  exliibit  her  natural  goodness. 
Witness  for  her  the  directions  which  she  sent  on  a  cold  November 
morning  to  good,  old,  and  parcel-blind  Mrs.  Delany.  "  Tell  her,'* 
siiid  she,  "  that  this  morning  is  so  very  cold  and  wet,  that  I  think 
she  will  suffer  by  going  to  church.  Tell  her,  therefore,  that  Dr. 
Queen  is  of  opinion  she  had  better  stay  and  say  her  prayers  at 
home."  She  showed  her  concern  still  more  when,  after  having  lent 
to  Miss  Burney  that  abominable  and  absurd  tragedy  of  Horace 
Walpole's,  "The  Mysterious  Mother,"  she  presented  her  with 
Ogden's  Sermons,  wherewith  to  sweeten  her  imagination.  Per- 
haps Hurd,  Bishop  of  Worcester,  on  his  visit  to  Windsor,  this  year, 
rather  underrated  the  royal  power  to  appreciate  sermons.  Mrs. 
Dehmy  ai>ked  him  for  a  copy  of  one  which  lie  had  preached  before 
their  majesties.  The  prelate  answered,  that  the  sermon  would  not 
do  at  all  for  her.  It  was  a  mere  plain  Christian  sermon,  he  said, 
made  for  the  king  and  queen,  but  it  wouldn't  do  for  a  hel  esprit. 

The  royal  household  was  sometimes  disturbed  by  family  dissen- 
sions; thus  in  1787,  the  Prince  of  Wales  would  not  attend  the 
birth-day  drawing-room  of  the  queen,  but  he  sent  her  written  con- 
gratulations on  the  return  of  the  day.      The  coldness  existing 

*  Mira  Burney's  Diary. 


108 


LIVES  OF  THK   QL'EENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


CHARLOTTE  SOPHIA. 


109 


between  mother  and  son  kept  the  latter  from  court.     "  I  fear  it 
was  severely  felt  by  his  royal  mother,"  says  Miss  Bumey,  "though 
she  appeared  composed  and  content."    Of  party-spirit  at  this  tinTe, 
when  party-spirit  ran  so  higli,  and  was  so  fierce  and  bitter  in  qual- 
ity, the  Diarist  last  namod,  asserts  that  the  queen  had  but  little. 
She  declares  her  majesty  to  have  been  liberal  and  nobly-minded, 
"  beyond  what  I  had  conceived  her  rank  and  limited  connections 
could  have  left  her,  even  with  the  fliirest  advancements  from  her 
early  nature ;  and  many  things  dropped  from  her,  in  relation  to 
parties  and  their  consequences,  that  showed  a  feeling  so  deep  upon 
the  subject,  joined  to  a  lenity  so  noble  towards  the  individuals  com- 
posmg  it,  that  she  drew  tears  fi-om  my  eyes  in  several  instances." 

This  year  saw  the  reconciliation  of  the  prince  with  his  parents ; 
and  a  public  manifestation  of  this  reconciliation  of  the  prince  with 
his  family  took  place  on  the  teiTace  at  Windsor  Castle      The 
prince  appeared  there,  chiefly  that  by  his  presence  he  mi-ht  do 
honor  to  a  particular  incident,  the  presentation  of  the  Duchesse  de 
Po  ignac  and  her  daughter  the   Duchesse  de  Guiche,  to  the  kin<^ 
and  queen.     The  noble  visitors  themselves,  to  do  honor  to  the  ol 
casion    repaired  to  the  terrace,  attired,  as  they  thought,  in  full 
English  costume.     "Plain   undress  gowns,   with   close   ordinary 
black  silk  bonnets."     They  were  startled  at  finding  the  queen  and 
the  princesses  dressed  with  elaborate  splendor.     For  the  .pect-i- 
tors,  however,  the  most  interesting  sight  was  that  of  the  heir-ap- 
parent  conversing  cordially  with  his  illustrious  parents.    The  look- 
ers-on  fancied   that   all,  henceforth,  would   be   serene,  and   that 
-Lovely  Peace,"  would  henceforth  reign  undisturbedly. 

But  there  was  a  pleasanter  scene  even  than  this,  shortly  after 
m  t^^ie  queen's  dressing-room.  "  Her  majesty  was  under  the  hands' 
of  her  I-r-dresser  and  in  the  room,  during  the  ceremony,  were 
Mr.  de  Luc,  Mr.  Turbulent,  (a  pseudonym)  and  Miss  Barney 
The  queen  conversed  with  all  three.  But  the  sacrile^iou.  and 
well-named  Turbulent,  instead  of  fixing  there  his  sole  iZZn 

a  language  of  signs  to  me  the  whole  time,  casting  up  his  eve. 
clasping  Ins  hands,  and  placing  himself  in  variourtine  att  tude  ' 
and  all  with  a  humor  so  burlesque,  that  it  was  impossible  to  tall' 


(I 


it  either  ill  or  seriously. . .  How  much  should  I  have  been  dis- 
countenanced had  her  majesty  turned  about  and  perceived  him ; 
yet  by  no  means  so  much  disconcerted  as  by  a  similar  Cerberic 
situation ;  since  the  queen  who,  when  in  spirits,  is  gay  and  sportive 
herself,  would  be  much  farther  removed  from  any  hazard  of  mis- 
construction.''* Nor  was  this  the  only  "  pleasant "  incident  of  the 
year.  It  was  not  long  after  the  above,  that  Lady  Effingham,  at 
AVindsor,  exclaimed  to  the  queen  :  "  Oh,  Ma'am,  I  had  the  greatest 
fright  this  morning.  I  saw  a  huge  something  on  Sir  George's 
tliroat.  '  Why,  Sir  George,'  says  I, '  what's  that  ?  a  wen  ?'  *  Yes/ 
says  he,  '  countess,  I've  had  it  three  and  twenty  years.'  However, 
I  hear  it's  now  going  about — so  I  hope  your  majesty  will  be 

careful  ?" 

One  more  court  incident  of  this  year  will  afford  us  a  specimen 
of  playfulness  as  understood  by  the  Prince  of  Wales.  The  latter 
was  at  AVindsor  with  the  Duke  of  York,  who  had  just  retunied 
from  the  continent,  after  an  absence  from  England  of  seven  years. 
His  return  caused  great  joy  both  to  the  king  and  queen ;  but  it 
was  not  a  joy  of  long  enduring. 

"  At  near  one  o'clock  in  the  moniing,  while  the  wardrobe-woman 
was  pinning  up  the  queen's  hair,  there  was  a  sudden  rap-tap  at  the 
dressing-room  door.  P^xtremely  surprised,  I  looked  at  the  queen, 
to  see  what  should  be  done  ;  she  did  not  speak.  I  had  never  heard 
such  a  sound  before,  for  at  the  royal  doors,  there  is  always  a  parti- 
cular kind  of  scratch  used,  instead  of  tapping.  I  heard  it  however 
again,  and  the  queen  called  out :  '  What  is  that  ?'  I  was  really 
startled,  not  conceiving  who  could  take  so  strange  a  liberty  as  to 
come  to  the  queen's  apartment  without  the  announcing  of  a  page ; 
and  no  page,  I  was  very  sure,  would  make  such  a  noise.  Again 
the  sound  was  repeated,  and  more  smartly.  I  grew  quite  alarmed, 
imagining  some  serious  evil  at  hand,  either  regarding  the  king,  or 
some  of  the  princesses.  The  queen,  however,  bid  me  open  the 
door.  I  did ;  and  what  was  my  surprise  to  see  there  a  large  man, 
in  an  immense  wrapi)ing  great-coat,  buttoned  up  round  his  chin, 
so  that  he  was  almost  hid  between  cape  and  hat.     I  stood  quite 

*  Miss  Bumey's  Diary. 


no  LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OP  EVGLAND. 

motionless  for  a  moment  i_but  he,  a,  if  also  surprised,  drew  back : 
i  felt  quite  s>ck  with  sudden  terror-I  really  thought  some  rufKan 
JkuI  broken  into  the  house,— or  a  madman.    '  Who  is  it  ?•  cried  the 
queen.     '  I  do  not  know,  ma'am.'  I  answered.     '  Who  is  it  >'  she 
called  aloud,  and  then,  takins  off  his  hat,  entered  the  Prince  of 
U  ales.     The  queen  laughed  very  much,  and  so  did  I  too,  happy 
m  this  unexpected  explanation.      He  told  her  eagerly,  he  only 
came  to  .nform  her  there  were  the  most  beautiful  nortbom  lights 
o  be  seen  that  could  possibly  be  imagined,  and  begged  her  to  eome 
to  the  gallery  windows."* 


CHARLOTTE    SOPHIA. 


in 


CHAPTER  VU. 

SHADOWS    IS   THE   SCNSniJfE. 

OXF.  event  of  this  year  brings  us  b..ck  to  the  pei^ons  and  me- 
mories of  the  age  of  Caroline.  Threc^uarters  of  a  cenUii!  Tad 
passed  a«-ay  since  the  day  when  the  then  littlo  Princess  7melia 
Sophia  who  was  bom  in  Hanover,  arrived  in  London,  some  three 
years  old,  at  the  period  when  her  parents  ascended  the  th,^  of 
England.  She  was  an  accomplished  and  a  high-spirited  ^iri  .nd 
grew  into  an  attractive  and  "  loveable  "  woman.     No  pri^c     ho 

n::;.rir:L':et^^Vh:ird^::,^-'"'^^ 

.o.e.ofalower-dign^,-    y^:  -1;^::^^  ZlJ^ 

from  the  Duke  of  Newcastle,  «Iiolff  c  ed  be  r"'"l""''' 
and  f^m  the  Duke  of  Grafto'n,  in  1;  ^  Le ^n  Z  ^'t  " ' 
was  more  reality."  ^'""t.ciion  witii  her  there 

The  latter  connection  13  said  to  have  hA^n  rv,^ 
Platonic.     The  princess  nn.l  tZ   1  i  '''''^  '*'''°^"*'^  ^^'«^ 

*  Miss  Bumey's  Diary. 


i 


gether  in  Windsor  Forest,  and  other  places  convenient  for  lovers 
to  lose  themselves  in.  This  last  incident  in  the  love  passages  of 
the  princess's  life,  afforded  great  opportunity  for  good-natured 
gossips  to  indulge  in  joking,  and  for  ill-natured  gossips  to  indulge 
in  atlectedly  indignant  reproof.  The  princess  troubled  herself 
very  little  with  the  remarks  of  others  on  her  conduct.  It  was  only 
when  Queen  Caroline  was  worked  upon  by  the  ill-natured  gossips 
to  notice  and  to  censure  the  intimacy  which  existed  between  her 
and  the  duke,  that  Amelia  took  the  matter  somewhat  to  heart,  and 
wept  as  a  young  lady  in  such  circumstances  was  likely  to  do,  at 
finding  a  violent  end  put  to  her  violent  delights.  The  queen,  in- 
deed, threatened  to  lay  the  matter  before  the  king,  and  it  is  said 
that  it  was  only  through  the  good  and  urgent  offices  of  Sir  Robert 
Wali)ole  that  so  extreme  a  course  was  not  taken. 

Like  her  sister  Anne,  Amelia  was  rather  imperious  in  disposition, 
and   she  never  found  but  one   man  who  openly  withstood  her. 
Tiiat  man  was  Beau  Nash.     The  Beau  had  fixed  eleven  o'clock  at 
which  dancing  should  cease  in  the  rooms  at  Bath,  where  he  was 
despotic  miister  of  the  ceremonies.     On  one  occasion,  when  the 
princess  was  present,  the  hour  had  struck,  and  Nash  had  raised 
his  jewelled  finger,  in  token  that  the  music  was  to  stop,  and  the 
ladies  were  to  "  sit  down  and  cool,"  as  the  Beau  delicately  ex- 
pressed it.     The  imperious  daughter  of  Caroline  was  not  disposed 
to  end  the  evening  so  early,  and  intimated  to  the  Master  her  gra- 
cious pleasure  that  there  should  be  another  country  dance.     Nash 
looked  at  her  with  the  sort  of  mingled  surprise  and  horror  with 
which  the  parish  overseer  is  said  to  have  contemplated  Oliver 
Twij^t  when  he  asked  for  "  more."     He  laughed  an  agitated  laugh, 
shook  all  the  powder  out  of  his  wig  in  signifying  his  decided  re- 
fusal, and  muttering  something  about  the  laws  of  the  Medes  and 
Persians,  set  down  the  princess  as  a  rather  ill-bred  person. 

In  her  way,  she  was  as  imperious  as  Nash ;  and  as  Ranger  of 
Richmond  Park  she  was  as  despotic  as  the  Beau  within  his  more 
artificial  territory  at  Bath.  She  kept  the  Park  closed,  sacred  to 
the  pleasure  and  retirement  of  royalty  and  the  favored  few.  There 
were,  however,  some  dreadfully  democratic  persons  at  Richmond, 
who  had  a  most  obstinate  conviction  that  the  public  had  a  right  of 


112 


LIVES  OP  THE  QUEENS  OP  ENOLANI). 


passage  through  the  Park,  and  they  demanded  that  the  right 
should  be  allowed  them.  The  royal  ranger  peremptorily  refused. 
Bemocratic  cobblers  immediately  went  to  law  with  her,  and  proved 
that  the  nght  was  with  them.  The  prineess  yielded  to  the  counsel 
of  her  own  egal  advisers,  and,  allowing  the  right  of  passage,  made 
a  very  no  able  concession;  she  planted  ricketty  ladders  a^vinst  the 
walls,  and  bade  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  the  vicir,i,y  p^s 
through  the  Park,  as  they  best  eould  by  such  means.  iJZ 
perseyenng  people  maintained  that  if  they  had  right  of  pa^sa-e, 

pta"e     "T\"  ""'"''  "'  ^  oommon-sense'way,  ami  tha 
p^sage  unphed  a^«.,orgate  by  which  such  pa.ssage  might  be 
made.     The  royal  lady  thought  the  world  was  comin°  to  a^.  end 
when  the  vulgar  dared  thus  to  "  keep  standing  on  thei^  r,Vh     "t 
presence  of  a  prineess.     She  was  in  some  mc^ure  correct^  for  the 
age  of  feudal  royalty  was  coming  (o  a  close,  and  that  great  shak- 
-g-up  of  equality  was  beginning,  from  which  royal.y^h.^    .Iver 
perfectly  recovered.     The  troublesome  people,  accordin^y   kept 
most  vexafously  to  the  point,  and,  after  i  tierc.  .tru^^^  they 
compelled  the.r  ranger  to  set  open  a  gate  whereby  H.^ey  n  iS 
have  free  and  constant  access  to  their  own  Park.    Had  this'da  H. 
ter  of  Caroln.e  been  a  wise  woman,  she  would  have  cheerfully 
gone  through  this  gate  with  the  people,  and  so,  sharin.  in^   r 
^.umph  would  have  won  their  love.     But  " Enliy,"  ^%L  „"I 
of  en  called,  was  of  quite  another  metal,  and  was  lo  ZulaZ 
the  victory  ac lueved  by  the  vulgar,  that  she  threw  up  her'offi  e  ,„ 

wr:L:renSXro:p^^^^^^^^^^^^ 

The  princess  offended  more  persons  than  the  mere  democracy 

l^Zr^^TZ  n  "T  ••  ''"'-' ''''''''-  "*•  ^^ '"He  is  CO  Z: 

sive  on  thi^  subject,  and  is  worth  citincr,  often  as  F  l.ovn  h  a  . 
quote  from  his  lively  pages.  In  1 7.2,  he  write  ?L."  it  Jtllir 

the  Whole  eoum,!r:r;:;7ickT::::^^^^^^ 

always  been  allowed.     Tliey  are  at  law  wWi  )  7  '^"^ 

MVii  shenff  of  Surrey,  to  whom  ..lie  had  denied  a 


CHARLOTTE  SOPHIA. 


113 


ticket,  but  on  better  thought  had  sent  one,  refused  it,  and  said  he 
had  taken  his  part.  Lord  Brooke,  who  had  applied  for  one,  was 
told  he  couldn't  have  one  ;  and,  to  add  to  the  affront,  it  was  signi- 
fied that  the  princess  had  refused  one  to  my  Lord  Chancellor. 
Your  old  nobility  don't  understand  such  comparisons.  But  the 
most  remarkable  event  liappened  to  her  about  three  weeks  ago. 
One  Mr.  Bird,  a  rich  gentleman  near  the  palace,  w  as  applied  to  by 
the  late  queen  for  a  piece  of  ground  that  lay  convenient  for  a  walk 
she  was  making.  He  replied,  that  it  was  not  proper  for  him  to  pre- 
tend to  make  a  queen  a  present,  but  if  she  would  do  what  she  pleased 
with  the  ground,  he  would  be  content  with  the  acknowledgment  of  a 
key  and  two  bucks  a  year.  This  was  religiously  observed  till  the 
era  of  her  royal  highness's  reign.  The  bucks  were  denied,  and  he 
himself  once  shut  out,  on  pretence  it  was  fence  month  (the  breed- 
ing-time, when  tickets  used  to  be  excluded,  keys  never).  The 
princess  was  soon  after  going  through  his  grounds  to  town.  She 
found  a  padlock  on  his  gate.  She  ordered  it  to  be  broken  open. 
Mr.  Shaw,  her  deputy,  begged  a  respite,  till  he  could  go  for  the 
key.  He  found  Mr.  Bird  at  home.  '  Lord,  sir,  here  is  a  strange 
mistake.  The  princess  is  at  the  gate,  and  it  is  padlocked.*  *  Mis- 
take !  no  mistake  at  all.  I  made  tlie  road ;  the  ground  is  my  own 
property.  Her  royal  highness  has  thought  fit  to  break  the  agree- 
ment which  her  royal  mother  made  with  me  ;  nobody  goes  through 
my  grounds  but  those  I  choose  should.'  Translate  this  to  your 
Florentines,"  adds  AValpole  to  our  legate  in  Tuscany  ;  "  try  if  you 
can  make  them  conceive  how  pleasant  it  is  to  treat  blood  royal 
thus." 

George  II.,  who  was  more  liberal,  in  many  respects,  than  any 
of  his  children,  save  when  these  affected  liberality  for  political 
purposes,  finally  anticipated  the  award  of  law  by  ordering  the  Park 
to  be  thrown  open  to  the  public,  in  the  month  of  December,  1752. 
But  he  could  not  have  kept  it  closed. 

Walpole  speaks  of  the  Princess  Amelia  as  if  he  had  never  for- 
gotten or  forgiven  this,  or  any  other  of  her  faults.  According  to 
his  description,  she  was  for  ever  prying  impertinently  into  the 
affairs  of  other  people  ;  sillily  garrulous,  and  importantly  commu- 
nicative of  trifles  not  worth  the  telling.     He  paints  her  as  arrogant 


114 


LIVKS  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


*u  o     1  "*^*'*'*^  Cither  nowerorhoniifxr     t>  ^ 

these  were  onlj.  eccentricities ;  there  wis  m„.I.     "^'^''"^y-    »"' 
beneath  them.   Shew.-n„ii  '""""'^'"''^  ■"'"''•''"S  goodness 

.     ,     .  ""'>'  generous  and  royally  diaritil.Ip     ci 

was  a  steady  friend,  and  an  admirable  mistr^i      I„  T        . 
-rt^es,  mere  human  failings  may  he  fo^K^     '"  '"'"^  "'^  ^^'^ 

lolh^  Cjeanl  iTc^  ^--'-"y  describes  a  scene  at  her 

day,"  he  says   «I Tvl  T"""  ^'"^'^^'-     "On  Thurs- 

/,    uc  .ajs,     1   was  summoned  to  the   I'rin,...o-  i-    •■  .    . 

-too,  she  called  it ;  politics  it  w^,     Ti.  ?  ?"      ""'^ '  '°<'- 

me  was,  'How  werC  A    .       ,  '""""^  """«  *«  ^W  '<> 

there  the  ,^^.2:':;;:^^;^^ 

— '  Uix.n  my  word  tint  wn  ,  ,    ^^'"J*"'.  I  ^ent  away.' 

*  J  *♦"»"»  lilac  was  carvino-  wo  1 1  '     ^^t  «  , 

apostro,,he  to  one  who  certainly  neC  L  a^"  '"^  '""'"'"" 
we  sat  ,lo>vn.  She  sai.l .-  .  I  hear  Wlkl^  «  ™e-server.  Well, 
that  Sir  Edward  Winnin-^ton  k  tn^  T  ."  ""^"^  °"''  '""' 
addressing  Ler-elf  to  me  ^r      .  "  ""'  J''""*^-     "*^'''«  '^  ''e  r' 

'- Mr.   Winning ,  :  ™  :I'1;1    --;^f  - '^^^^^    '  "«  '^'  '"« 

"■"gton.-  'loan^butsayil'-'rad'^n  sr,"'*^  "^ '''"'" 
shoulders,  and   continued  •  •  "IV  "  shrugged  up  her 

Tory.  What  do"o  hink  IT'T  T  r''"''''-  ''  g^^" 
l>e.=eve  what  an  l^le''::':;  :;X  ^^^J'  '^^adam,  I 
you  perceive  any  thing  rude  or  'offensive  in  t W  ■  ,^„^'°"f ="'  "J" 
flew  mto  the  most  outriw™,.  "*="=  "'™  ^lie 

-id:  'None  of  your^-fT /";'""'  -'"-'1  "ke  scarlet,  and 
S"I>jects.  What  do  you  tink  t" '  .""f^'^'""''  Ming  on  these 
1-1  l.eard  you  say  L?  U^ ^Z,  f ""'  ""'"'l  '"'-  «"-••  i''  Le 
would  have  deserved  it '     I  '""  murdered  you,  and  you 

was  impossible  to  e '. hin  1^^'"  ""''"""''■'  '""•-»-«■.'  I 
<!-*:     There  was  no  IkZl  r  T"  "  ''"■'•■"''^"^^  '^'^  ^  - 
andpartieularl,  for  metr  ha  Tn^^  rrV'"V' ^~' 
converse  with  ^yal.ie.^  ,«  ,^,,  ,h,m  with  ,^        ''  "'"'"  '  ""'^' 
«nce  it  is  all  the  court  thev  will  !       ?  ^'•■'"'••*'  ^I^<^'       ' 

those  on  each  side  of  me  '  W,:,^^'    „  T  ^VV'"'"  ""^     '  -'"^ «» 
self  now.'     Well  I  h,..,, '  *"  ^ '^'''    ^  ''""not  exj.lain  my- 

-  hour.     The  "lie':  lZ^;r„::  r  •  "  '"'  ■^'-^o-i.arter^f 
whole  debate,  and  at  Ivt  a  ke    Z    "f "' «amincd  me  u,.on  the 

a^kcd  me  dueetly  which  I  thought  the 


CnARLOTTK  SOPHIA. 


115 


t  ■ 

i 


A. 


best  speaker,  my  father  or  Mr.  Pitt  ?  If  possible,  this  was  more 
distressing  than  her  anger.  I  replied,  it  was  impossible  to  compare 
two  men  so  ditferent ;  tliat  I  believed  my  father  was  more  a  man 
of  business  than  Mr.  Pitt.  *Well,  but  Mr.  Pitt's  language?' 
*  Madam,  1  have  alwuys  been  remarkable  for  admiring  Mr.  Pitt's 
language.'  At  last,  the  unpleasant  scene  ended ;  but  as  we  were 
going  away,  I  went  close  to  her  and  said,  *  Madam,  I  must  beg 
leave  to  explain  myself.  Your  royal  highness  has  seemed  to  be 
very  angry  with  me,  and  I  am  sure  I  did  not  mean  to  offend  you ; 
all  that  I  intended  to  say  wa*«,  that  I  supposed  Tories  were  Whigs 
when  they  got  places.'  '  Oh,'  said  she,  *  I  am  very  much  obliged 
to  you.  Indeed,  I  was  very  angry.'  Why  she  was  angry,  or  what 
she  thought  I  meant,  I  do  not  know  to  this  moment,  unless  she 
supposed  that  I  would  have  hinted  that  the  Duke  of  Newcastle  and 
the  opjwsition  were  not  men  of  consummate  virtue,  and  had  lost 
their  places  out  of  principle.  The  very  reverse  was  at  that  time 
in  my  head,  for  I  meant  that  the  Tories  would  be  just  as  loyal  as 
the  Whigs  when  they  got  anything  by  it." 

The  princess  was  not  ladylike  in  her  habits.  She  had  a  fond- 
ness for  loitering  about  her  stables,  and  would  spend  hours  there 
in  attendance  upon  her  sick  horses.  She  of  course  acquired  the 
ways  of  tho.^e  whose  lives  pass  in  stables  and  stable  matters.  She 
was  manly,  too,  in  her  dress.  Calamette  would  have  liked  to  have 
painted  her,  as  that  artist  has  painted  the  frock-coat  portrait  of 
Madame  Dudevant  (George  Sand).  He  would  have  picturesquely 
l>ortrayed  her  in  her  round  hat  and  German  riding-habit,  "stand- 
ing about"  at  her  breakfast,  sipping  her  chocolate,  or  taking  a 
spoonfuU  of  snuff.  Of  this  she  was  inordinately  fond,  but  she 
accounted  her  box  sacred.  A  Noll  me  tangere  was  engraven  on 
it,  but  the  injunction  w^as  not  always  held  sacred.  Once,  on  one  of 
the  card-tables  in  the  Assembly  Rooms  at  Bath,  her  box  lay  open ; 
and  an  old  general  officer  sUmding  near,  inconsiderately  took  a 
pinch  from  it.  The  indignant  princess  immediately  called  an  at- 
tendant, who,  by  her  directions,  flung  the  remainder  of  the  contents 
of  the  box  into  the  fire. 

To  revert  to  her  dress,  its  eccentricity  is  illustrated  by  an  anec- 
dote of  which  Lord  Clermont  was  the  hero.     AVhen  the  eldest  son 


116 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  EXGLAND. 


I 


<rf  George  III.  was  a  very  young  ,„a„,  he  was  once  drivin.  hi, 

STp  "  ""  Z"  'T'""' '"  ""  "-gLborhood  of  Windsor,  »°here 
the  old  Pnncess  Amelia  Sophia  was  then  residing.     The  we.,W 

h>m>  If  ,„  a  tlnek  wh>.e  great-coat,  which  had  a  woollen  hood 
attached  to  u,  and  which  Lord  Clermont  wore  over  his  tad  S 
latter  «as  completely  enveloped  bv  it       A,.i„  '"> '"^a"-    Ihe 

>.ho  was  drivin;  an^  .he  >^J:'Ji:  .Jli^;:;^^^--'^ 
not  conceal  their  adtniralion.     There  was  I^  n  .  ,'       ^  """'"^ 

of  delight  at  the  amiability  of  a  aa:i:inr;orn:~r^^^^^^^ 
mind  tnknur  nut  1.;.  .1    i'   n  "^       °  i""ite  ^\lio  um  not 

"liuu  uKHig  out  lus  deaf  old  aunt,  enveloned  in  flnnn..i.  „     i 
to  fjive  her  a  dn'vr. '     in    .  *^^"pta  m  nanneJs  as  she  was, 

pwvyo:;;;::;-:  V'::z2:z^T'  -'-  ~ 

respect  for  a-e  in  even-  cirr-ln    !    .i  """"  """"^  *'"''' 

throne .'     Ne;er  «  "  ZL  '      •'  ,T  "  "^^''''"^  '°  •>«  "<^'"-  ""e 

which  never  ::;;:;•  r  ""■■  ''"'"'*°'-  ^^^-'^-"=  -  -•«- 

pHncess.      The   eomp^n^  ^^i^d ' I    Pr;:?";^;'''' ^^ 
Pr,„ce  of  Mecklem,urgh,  the  Duke  of  Portland   I  orS  a     T'  T 
Lord  a„.I  Lady  Clermont,  Lord  and  I   dv  S     .?     *^'""'"■••'^^■'' 
Pelham,  and  Mrs.  Howe     Son^ZiT  '    '^'"■"'="»l"«».  Wd 

~        1-    •         .      ""'*"•    '">™eot  the  paitvret  red."irlv     n.i 
more  d.s..pated.  sat  np  playing  conun'rce  till  ten      ^hn,    ,  "m 
I  was  tired,"  says  Horace.     The  livelv  old  .  '  ,  "■""' 

some  verses  on  Gunnersbury.    '•  "V"""'''  "'''"'  '''"'  '"'' 

She  would  not  excuse  me      T  .       ■,.  '"=  *"Pf  ra»n"ated 

her  next  birth-da.  "h,"  '  di  er  ITT  ''"'"'  '"'"  ""  '^^  ^ 

^o.     So,  as  I  can;;  home,  itid";:;::;.': Z'"  T"  "" 

mg,  and  sent  them  to  her  breakfa  f  ,     \  ""'  '"'^^'^^^  ^"«'- 

T    ,.1      ^  '^  "tx  orcaktast  next  morninff " 

«  r-^at^ r:'r  a  -  ^^^^^^^^^^^^  -  ^-^  an.  George 
Harley  Street.  Card  phvi. ",:  '  f  """'■'•'  "'  "^  »-'  -"-"  :f 
Buits  of  her  old  a^e  IW  din  ,  .'""r"  "•^'■^  "'^'  ^^'»«-''  P"-- 
Oe-ober,  HSO.  i„te  "tl  S  "o  ter't::  ^l '""  '-'  '^^^  "' 
H-o-  yn.-s  chape,  in  M'es^uinster  a"  bey  """'"  "^^  '" 

.llne,s  which  now  threatened  the  kin...     I„ 


CHARLOTTE  SOPHIA. 


117 


presence  of  this,  the  queen  forgot  Mrs.  Trimmer  and  her  Sunday 
schools ;  Gainsborough,  whom  she  patronized ;  public  theatricals, 
and  private  readings.     The  illness  had  been  long  threatening. 

In  the  "•  Memoirs  of  the  Court  and  Cabinet  of  George  III.,"  by 
the  Duke  of  Buckingham  and  Chandos,  the  elder  sons  of  Queen 
Charlotte  are  spoken  of,  and  particularly  with  reference  to  this 
period,  immediately  previous  to  the  king's  illness,  in  a  most  unfa- 
vorable light.  The  Prince  of  Wales,  we  are  told,  like  his  two 
predecessors  in  the  same  title,  was  active  in  his  opposition  to  the 
measures  of  the  cabinet  and  crown.  The  same  spirit,  with  as  little 
pi*udence  to  moderate,  and  more  ill-feeling  to  embitter  it,  was  as 
lively  in  the  man  as  in  the  boy.  The  prince  was,  however,  at 
least  consistent  in  his  opposition.  '*  The  Duke  of  York,"  says  Lord 
Bulkeley,  writing  to  the  Marquis  of  Buckingham,  "talks  both 
ways,  and  I  think  will  end  in  opposition.  His  conduct  is  as  bad 
as  possible.  He  plays  very  deep  and  loses :  and  his  company  is 
thought  maiwais  ton.  I  am  told  that  the  king  and  queen  begin 
now  to  feel  '  how  much  sharper  than  a  serpent's  tooth  it  is  to  have 
an  ingrate  child.'  When  the  Duke  of  York  is  completely  done  up 
in  the  public  opinion,  I  should  not  be  surprised  if  the  Prince  of 
Wales  assume  a  difi'erent  style  of  behavior.  Indeed,  I  am  told,  he 
already  affects  to  see  that  his  brother's  style  is  too  bad." 

Public  business,  as  far  as  its  transaction  through  ministers  was 
concerned,  became  greatly  impeded  tlirough  the  illness  which  had 
attacked  the  king.  It  had  been  brought  on  by  his  imprudence  in 
remaining  a  whole  day  in  wet  stockings,  and  it  exhibited  itself  not 
merely  in  spasmodic  attacks  of  the  stomach,  but  in  an  agitation  and 
flurry  of  spirits  which  caused  great  uneasiness  to  the  queen,  and 
which  both  for  domestic  and  political  reasons,  it  was  desirous 
should  not  be  known. 

The  very  attempt  at  concealment  gave  rise  to  various  alarming 
reports.  The  best  answer  that  could  be  devised  for  the  latter  was 
to  allow  the  king  to  appear  at  tlie  levee  at  the  end  of  October. 
The  queen  suffered  much  when  this  plan  was  resolved  upon ;  and 
it  had  the  result,  which  she  expected,  of  over-fatiguing  the  king, 
and  rendering  him  worse.  At  the  close  of  the  levee,  the  king  re- 
marked to  the  Duke  of  Leeds  and  Lord  Thurlow,  the  latter  of 


118  LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  E.VGLAND. 

whom  had  advised  him  to  take  care  of  himself,  and  return  to 
Wmdsor:  "You  then,  too,  my  Lord  Thiirlow,  forsake  me,  and 
supi>ose  me  lU  beyond  recovery ;  but  «lmtever  you,  or  Mr.  Pitt 
may  thuik,  or  feel,  I  that  am  bom  a  gentleman,  shall  never  lay 
my  head  on  my  last  j.iHow  in  peace  and  quiet,  as  long  as  I  remem- 
ber the  loss  of  my  American  Colonies."  This  loss  appears  to  have 
>veighed  heavily  on  his  mind,  and  to  have  been  one  of  the  -reat 
causes  by  which  it  was  ultimately  overthrown.  ° 

Early  in  November,  he  became  delirious,  but  the  medical  men, 
l\arren,  Hcbenlen,  and  Sir  G.  Baker,  eould  not  tell  whether  the 
m*Iady  would  turn,  at  a  critical  point,  for  life  or  death ;  or  whether, 
li  lor  the  former,  the  patient  would  be  afflicted,  or  not,  with  per- 
manent OSS  of  reaso..  The  disease  was  now  settled  in  the  brain, 
vuth  h,gh  fever.  The  Princes  of  .he  Blood  were  all  assembled  at 
Hnulsor,  ,„  the  rwm  next  to  that  occupied  by  the  suHerer,  and  a 
regency,  bestowing  kingly  iK,wer  on  the  Prince  of  Wales  was 
ah-eady  talked  of.  '     ^ 

When  the  fact  of  the  king's  illness  eould  no  longer  be,  with  pro- 
priety, concealed,  the  alarn,,  without  the  royal  residence,  was  Jeat, 
and  the  disorder  scarcely  less,  withm.  The  most  graphic  pit-tu,. 
of  the  ^tate  ot  affairs  is  drawn  by  Lord  Bulkeley.  ••  The  queen  " 
be  says,  ..ees  nobocly  but  Lady  Constance,  Lady  CUarlon.VZ, 
M..=  Bumey  and  her  two  sons,  who,  I  am  afraid,  do  not  =uino„nce 
he  state  of  the  knjg's  health  with  that  caution  and  .lelicacy  «" "c" 

i;  h'r  t;:T''°''T  ''"":  ""•'  "^^  -—.anditistothem 

ri.  iind'  ;^  "^The'; ri  :r  .r  T"- '  ^■^■^- '-'"'' 

.„      .  1     l"^'-    ^"''I"""^»^li''>>  taken  the  command  at  M'ind- 

^or;m  consequence  of  which  there  is  no  command  what  oever- 
and  ,t  was  no,  ti  1  yestenlay  that  orders  were  given  to  twj'.^,  J 
of  the  lx.d-chamber  to  wait  for  the  future,  ani  receive  the^Z 

m  and  L"";V.r  '''':  r"™'  ""''^""^  ""^  bavebeend3 
Pit  and  Lord  .Sidney  had  not  come  down  in  person  to  be^  tin 
such  orders  m  ght  be  eiven      Fnl..^  ;.  i  " 

^1  .   =       ^  g"en.     Lnlejs  it  was  done  yesterdav  nn 

orders  were  "nvcn  for  nmi-ni.-  :„  .k      i.      ,  .;"^-"-™aj,  no 

ance  ofoil...  ,■  ^^  ^^^  churches,  nor  for  the  observ- 

ance of  oOier  torms,  such  as  stopping  ,he  playhouses,  &e    hiHdv 

miJoitune  »wll  be  ,o  government,  you  an.  more  likely  ,o  know 


CUAliLOTTE   SOPHIA. 


119 


than  I  am]!  but  I  cannot  help  thinking  that  the  prince  will  find  a 
greater  difficulty  in  making  a  sweep  of  the  present  mmistry,  in  his 
character  of  Fiduciary  Regent,  than  in  that  of  king.  The  stocks 
are  already  fallen  two  per  cent.,  and  the  alarms  of  the  people  of 
London  are  very  little  flattering  to  the  prmce.  I  am  told  that 
message  after  message  has  been  sent  to  Fox,  who  is  touring  with 
^Irs.  Armstead  on  the  continent ;  but  I  have  not  heard  that  the 
prince  has  sent  for  him,  or  has  given  any  orders  to  Fox's  friends 
to  that  effect.  The  system  of  favoritism  is  much  changed  since 
Lord  Bute's  and  the  Princess  Dowager's  time  ;  for  Jack  Payne, 
,  blaster  Leigh,  an  Eton  schoolboy,  and  ^Master  Barrj',  brother  to 
Lord  Barrymore,  and  Mrs.  Fitz,  form  the  cabinet  at  Carlton 
House." 

The  afflicted  king,  for  a  time,  grew  worse,  and  then  the  opposi- 
tion affected  to  believe  that  his  case  was  by  no  means  desperate. 
Their  insincerity  was  proved  as  s^-mptoms  of  amelioration  began 
to  show  themselves.  2'hen  they  not  only  denied  the  fact  of  the 
king's  improved  heaUh,  but  they  detailed  all  the  incidents  they 
could  pick  up  of  his  period  of  imbecility,  short  madness,  or  longer 
delirium.  But,  in  justice  to  the  opposition,  it  must  be  remarked 
that  the  greatest  traitor  was  not  on  that  side,  but  on  the  king's. 
The  Lord  Chancellor  Thurlow  was  intriguing  with  the  o])poaition, 
when  he  was  affecting  to  be  a  faithful  servant  of  the  crown.  Ilis 
treachery,  however,  was  well  known  to  both  parties,  but  Pitt  kept 
it  from  the  knowledge  of  George  III.,  lest  it  should  too  deeply 
pain,  or  too  dangerously  excite  him.  "When  Thurlow  had,  subse- 
quently, the  effrontery  to  exclaim  in  the  House  of  Lords,  "  When 
I  forget  my  kmg,  may  my  God  forget  me ! "  a  voice  from  one  be- 
hind him  is  said  to  have  murmured,  "  Forget  you !  He  will  see 
you first."     A  comment  rough  but  rea.-Jonable. 

There  was  assuredly  no  decency  in  the  conduct  of  the  heir-ap- 
parent, or  of  his  next  brother.  They  were  gaily  fl^nng  from  club 
to  club,  party  to  party,  and  did  not  take  the  trouble  even  to  assume 
the  sentiment  which  they  could  not  feel.  **  If  we  were  together," 
says  I^rd  Grenville,  in  a  letter  inserted  in  the  "  Memoirs,  &c.," 
"  I  would  tell  you  some  particulars  of  the  Prince  of  Wales's  beha- 
vior towards  the  king  and  queen,  withm  these  few  days,  that  would 


120 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


make  your  blood  run  cold,  but  I  dare  not  admit  them  to  paper  be- 
cause of  my  informant."     It  was  said  that  if  the  king  could  only 
recover  sufficiently  to  learn  and  comprehend  what  had  been  said 
and  done  during  his  illness,  he  would  hear  enough  to  drive  him 
again  into  insanity.     The  conduct  of  his  elder  sons  was  marked, 
not  only  by  its  savage  inhumanity,  but  by  an  indifference  to  public 
and  private  opinion,  which  distinguishes  those  fools,  who  are  not 
only  without  wits,  but  who  are  also  without  hearts.     When  the 
parliament  was  divided  by  fierce  party  strife,  as  to  whose  hands 
should  be  confided  the  power  and  responsibilities  of  the  regency, 
the  occasion  should  have  disposed  those  likely  to  be  endowed  with, 
that  supreme  power,  to  seek  a  decent,  if  temporary,  retirement* 
from  the  gaze  of  the  world.     Not  so  the  Prince  of  Wales  and  the 
Duke  of  York.    They  kept  open  houses,  and  gaily  welcomed  every 
new  ally.     They  were  constant  guests  at  epicurean  clubs  and  con- 
vivial meetings.     They  both  took  to  deep  play,  and  both  were  as 
fully  i)lucked  as  they  deserved.     There  was  in  them  neither  pro- 
priety of  feeling,  nor  affectation  of  it. 

The  condition  of  the  queen  was  deplorable,  and  a  succession  of 
fits  almost  prostrated  her  as  low  as  her  royal  husband.  The  Prince 
of  Wales  himself  "  seemed  frightened,"  says  Mr.  Neville  to  the 
Marquis  of  Buckingham,  *'  and  was  blooded  yesterday,"— Novem- 
ber 6,  the  second  day  of  the  king's  delirious  condition ;  but  as  phle- 
botomy was  a  practice  of  this  princely  person  when  in  love,  one 
cannot  well  determine  whether  his  pallor  arose  from  filial,  or  some 
less  respectable,  affection. 

Up  to  this  time,  the  king  had  grown  worse,  chiefly  through  total, 
or  nearly  total,  loss  of  sleep.  He  bewailed  this  with  a  hoarse,' 
rapid,  yet  kindly  tone  of  voice ;  maintaining  that  he  was  well,  or 
that  to  be  so,  he  needed  but  the  blessing  of  sleep.  The  queen 
paced  her  apartment  with  a  painful  demonstration  of  impatient  de- 
spair in  her  manner;  and,  if  by  way  of  solace,  she  attempted  to  read 
aloud  to  her  children,  or  ladies,  any  passage  that  reminded  her  of 
her  condition  and  prospects,  made  her  burst  into  tears. 

Previous  to  the  first  night  of  the  king's  delirium,  he  conducted, 
as  he  had  always  been  accustomed  to  do,  the  queen  to  her  dress- 
ing-room ;  and  there,  a  hundred  times  over,  requested  her  not  to 


CHARLOTTE   SOrUlA. 


121 


disturb  him,  if  she  should  find  him  asleep.  The  urgent  repetition 
showed  a  mind  nearly  overthrown,  but  the  king  calmly  and  aff'ec- 
tionately  remarked  that  he  needed  not  physicians,  for  the  queen 
was  the  best  physician  he  could  have.  "  She  is  ray  best  friend," 
said  he,  "  where  could  I  find  a  better?" 

The  alarm  became  greater  when  the  fever  left  the  king,  after 
he  had  three  times  taken  James's  powders,  but  without  producing 
any  relief  to  the  brain.  The  queen  secluded  herself  from  all  per- 
sons save  her  ladies  and  the  two  eldest  princes.  These,  as  Lord 
Bulkeley  said,  did  not  announce  to  her  the  state  of  the  king's  health 
with  the  caution  and  delicacy  due  to  the  wife  and.  mother  who  now 
depended  on  them.  This  dependence  was  so  complete,  that  the 
Prince  of  Wales,  as  before  said,  took  the  command  of  everything 
at  Windsor,  one  result  of  which  was,  a  disappearance  of  every- 
thing like  order.  The  queen's  dependence  on  such  a  son  was 
rather  compulsory  than  voluntary.  When  he  first  came  down  to 
Windsor,  from  Brighton,  the  meeting  was  the  very  coldest  possi- 
ble ;  and  when  he  had  stated  whence  he  came,  her  first  question 
was,  when  he  meant  to  return.  However,  it  is  said  that  when  the 
king  broke  out,  at  dinner,  into  his  first  fit  of  positive  delirium,  the 
pnince  burst  into  teai*s. 

The  sufferer  was  occasionally  better,  but  the  relapses  were  fre- 
quent. The  queen  now  slept  in  a  bed-room  adjoining  that  occu- 
pied by  the  king.  He  once  became  possessed  with  the  idea  that 
she  had  been  forcibly  removed  from  the  bed,  and,  in  the  middle  of 
the  niglit,  he  came  into  the  queen's  room,  with  a  candle  in  his 
hand,  to  satisfy  himself  that  she  was  still  near  him.  He  remained 
half-an-hour,  talking  incoherently,  hoarsely,  but  good-naturedly, 
and  then  went  away.  The  queen's  nights  were  nights  of  sleepless- 
ness and  tears. 

In  the  queen's  room  could  be  heard  every  expression  uttered 
by  the  king,  and  they  were  only  such  as  could  give  pain  to  the 
listener.  His  state  was  at  length  so  bad,  that  the  queen  was  coun- 
selled to  change  her  apartments,  both  for  her  sake  and  the  king's. 
She  obeyed,  reluctantly  and  despairingly,  and  confined  herself  to 
a  single  and  distant  room.  In  the  meanwhile,  Dr.  Warren  was 
sent  for,  but  the  king  resolutely  refused  to  see  him.     He  hated  all 

Vol.  11.— 0 


122 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF    ENGLAND. 


M 


physician?,  declared  that  he  himself  was  onlv  nervous,  and  that 
Otherwise  he  was  not  ill.  Dr.  Warren,  however,  contrived  to  be 
near  enough  to  be  able  to  give  an  opinion ;  and  the  queen  waited 
impatiently  in  her  apartment  to  hear  what  that  opinion  might  be. 
When  she  was  told,  after  long  waiting,  that  Dr.  Warren  had  left 
the  castle,  after  communicating  his  opinion  to  the  Prince  of  Wales, 
she  felt  the  full  force  of  her  altered  position,  and  that  she  was  no 
longer  hrst  in  the  castle  next  to  the  kin^. 

The  Prince  of  Wales,  the  Duke  of  York,  some  of  the  medical 
men,  and  other  gentlemen,  kept  a  sort  of  watch  in  the  room  adja- 
cent to  that  in  which  the  king  lay,  and  listened  attentively  to  all 
he  uttered.     He  surprised  them,  one  night,  by  suddenly  apix-aring 
among  them,  and  roughly  demanding  what  thev  were  there  for. 
They  endeavored  to  pacify  him.  but  in  vain.     He  treated  them  all 
as  enemies :   but  not  happening  to  see  his  second  son,  who  had  dis-  * 
erectly  kept  out  of  sight,  but  was  present,  he  said,  touchingly, 
^*  Freddy  is  my  friend ;  yes,  he  is  my  friend  \ "     Sir  George  Baker 
timidly  persuaded  the  poor  king  to  return  to  his  bed-r^m  ;  but 
the  latter  forced  the  doctor  into  a  corner,  and  told  him  that  he  was 
an  old  woman,  who  could  not  distinguish  between  a  mere  nervous 
malady  and  any  other.     Tlie  prince,  by  sign  and  whispers,  endeal 
vored  to  mduce  the  other  gentlemen  to  lead  his  father  away      All 
were  reluctant,  and  the  king  remained  a  considerable  time  •  till  at 
last  a  "Mr.  Fairiy"  to<.k  him  boldly  by  the  arm,  addressed  him 
respectfully  but  tirmly,  declaring  that  his  life  was  in  peril  if  he  did 
not  go  again  to  bed,  and  at  length  subjected  the  king,  who  gave 
himseh  up  hke  a  wearied  child.     These  details  were  eageriv  made 
known   to  the  queen  by   the  prince,  with  -  energetic  violence " 
Her  majesty  s  condhion  was  indeed  melancholv,  but  at   its  worn 
she  never  forgot  to  pertbrm  little  acts  of  kindne'ss  to  her  dau^htei^s 
and  others.     The  conduct  of  the  princesses  was  such  as  became 
thexr  situation.     They,  with  their  mother,  had  fallen  fn>m  thdr 
first  greatness,  and  the  Prince  of  Wales  was  supreme  maste 
^othmg  was  done  but  by  hk  orders.     The  queen  ceased  to  have 
any  authonty  beyond  the  reach  of  her  own  ladie^      ••  She  Z^, 
the  whole  day.    says  Miss  Bumey,  -in  patient  sorrow  and  reL 


CHARLOTl'E   SOPHIA. 


123 


ment  with  h^r  daughters !  " 


The  king  expressed  a  very  natural  desire  to  see  these  daughters, 
but  he  was  not  indulged.  Indeed,  the  practice  observed  towards 
him  appears,  if  the  accounts  may  be  trusted,  extremely  injudicious. 
The  public  seem  to  have  thought  so ;  for,  on  stopping  Sir  George 
Baker's  carriage,  and  hearing  from  him  that  the  king's  condition 
was  very  bad,  they  exclaimed,  **  More  shame  for  you  I " 

The  Prince  of  Wales  was  extremely  desirous  to  remove  the 
kin«»  from  Windsor  to  Kew.  The  kinjr  was  violentlv  averse  from 
such  removal,  and  the  queen  opposed  it  until  she  was  informed 
that  it  had  the  sanction  of  the  physicians.  Kew  was  said  to  be 
quieter  and  more  adapted  for  an  invalid.  The  difficulty  wa<,  how 
he  was  to  gel  there.  Of  his  own  will  he  would  never  go.  The 
prince  and  physicians  contrived  a  plan.  The  queen  and  prin- 
cesses were  to  leave  Windsor  early,  and,  as  soon  as  the  king 
should  be  told  of  their  departure,  his  uneasiness  would  be  calmed 
bv  an  assurance  that  he  would  find  them  at  Kew.  The  queen 
vielded  reluctantlv.  on  being  told  that  it  would  be  for  her  consort's 
advantage  ;  and  she  and  her  daughters  proceeded  whhout  state 
and  in  profound  grief,  to  Kew.  Small  accommodation  did  they 
find  there;  for  half  the  apartments  were  locked  up,  by  the 
prince's  orders,  while  on  the  doors  of  the  few  allotted  to  the 
queen  and  her  slender  retinue,  some  illustrious  groom  of  the 
chambers  had  scratched  the  names  of  those  by  whom  they  were  to 
be  occupied,  in  chalk  I  Night  had  set  in  before  the  king  arrived. 
He  had  been  wheedled  away  from  Windsor,  on  promise  of  being 
allowed  to  see  the  queen  and  their  daughters  at  Kew.  He  per- 
formed the  journey  in  silent  content :  and.  when  he  arrived — ^the 
promise  was  broken  \  The  queen  and  children  were  again  told 
that  it  was  all  for  the  best ;  but  a  night,  passed  by  the  king  in  vio- 
lence and  raving,  showed  how  deeply  he  feh  the  cruel  insult  to 
which  he  had  been  subjected.  In  the  meantime,  preparations  to 
name  the  prince  regent  were  going  on.  the  king's  friends  being 
extremely  cautious  that  due  reserve  should  be  made  of  their  mas- 
ter's  rights,  in  case  of  what  they  did  not  yet  despair  of— his  recov- 
erv.  His  phvsicians  were  divided  in  opinion  upon  the  point ;  but 
they  all  agreed  that  the  malady,  which  had  begun  with  a  natural 
discliarge  of  humor  from  the  l*^g=.  had,  by  the  king's  imprudence. 


124  LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 

been  driven  to  the  bowels,  and  that  thence  it  had  been  repelled 
upon  the  brain.  They  endeavored,  without  too  ..uiguinely  hoping, 
to  bring  the  malady  again  down  to  the  legs. 

Their  efTorts  were  fruitless.  Addington  and  Sir  Lucas  Pepys 
were  more  .angi.ine  than  their  colleagues,  of  a  recovery  ;  but  the 
cond„,„„  01  the  patient  grow  daily  more  serious,  yet  with  inter- 
vals ot  calm  an.l  luc.l.ty.  I,  was  at  this  juncture  that  Dr.  Willi, 
of  Lmcoh..  was  called  in.  This  measure  gave  great  .^lief  to  the 
queen ;   tor  she  knew  that  cases  of  lunacy  formed  Dr.   Willis's 

luTd  .[d^'f^T,"'':''"'''"'  ^'""  ''"'^^-^ '■™-  '"«  '-"""-the 
alK.uld  adop  .     rhe  doctor  was  accompanied  by  hi.s  two  sons. 

They  were  (m.d  the  father  especially)  fine  men,  full  of  cheerful: 

ter  of  tTl  'l'""";""'  '-•'"'''•'-"'"S  '•«^P«<^'  for  the  personal  charac- 
ter o  the  kn,g,  but  earmg  not  a  jot  for  his  rank.  Thev  at  once 
took  the  roy.d  patient  into  their  care,  and  with  such  goo^  s  re  ^ 
-never  unnecessarily  opposing  him,  but  winning,  father   tZ 

hat  on  the  10  h  ot  December,  the  queen  had  the  gra.iHcation  to 
see  him  from  the  window  of  her  apartment,  walking  in  the  "arden 
atone,  the  Willises  being  in  attendance  at  a  little  distance  from 

There  was  a  party  who  desired,  last  of  all  things,  the  recovery 

ad},  took  Lord  Lot  nan  nuo  a  darkened  room,  adjacent  to  that  of 
the  kmg,  ,„  order  that  the  obsequious  lord  might  hear  the  mvin^s 

be  necZrr  ■""  '"  ""  ''''' ''"  ^"^"  "'^''-"  ^'-W 

The  year  1789  opened  propitiously.     On  its  vety  first  mornin. 

he  poor  kmg  was  heard  praying,  aloud  and  fervenUv,  for  1.^0° 

recovery.     A  re,>ort  of  how  he  had  passed  the  nighi  was  made   " 

state  of  the  kn,g  vaned  so  much,  and  there  was  so  much  of  nain 
me..age  whenever  she  was  the  bearer  of  favorable 


CHABLOTTK  SOPHIA. 


125 


intelligence.     The  highest  gratification  experienced  by  the  queen 
at  the  period  when  hopes  revived  of  the  king's  recovery,  was 
when  she  heard  that  her  husband  had  remembered  on  the  18th  of 
January  that  it  was  her  birthday,  and  Imd  expressed  a  desire  to 
see  her.     This  joy,  however,  was  forbidden  him  for  a  time,  and 
apparently  not  without  reason.     A  short  period  only  had  elapsed 
after  the  birthday  when  the  king  suddenly  encountered  Miss  Bur- 
ney  in  Kew  Gardens,  where  she  had  ventured  to  take  exercise, 
under  the  impression  that  the  sick  monarch  had  been  taken  to 
Richmond  Gardens.     As  it  was  the  queen's  desire,  derived  from 
the  physicians,  that  no  one  should  attempt  to  come  in  the  king's 
way,  or  address  him  if  they  did.  Miss  Burney  no  sooner  became 
aware  of  whom  she  had  thus  unexpectedly  encountered,  than  she 
turned  round,  and  fairly  took  to  her  heels.     The  king,  calling  to 
her  by  name,  and  enraptured  to  see  again  the  face  of  one  whom 
he  knew  find  esteemed,  pursued  as  swiftly  as  she  fled.     The  Wil- 
lises followed  hard  upon  the  king,  not  without  some  alarm.     Miss 
Burney  kept  the  lead  in  breathless  affright.     Li  vain  was  she 
called  upon  to  stop:  she  ran  on  until  a  peremptory  order  from 
Dr.  Willis,  and  a  brief  assurance  that  the  agitation  would  be  most 
injurious  to  the  king,  brought  her  at  once  to  a  stand-still.     She 
then  turned  and  advanced  to  meet  the  king,  as  if  she  had  not  before 
been  aware  of  his  presence.     He  manifested  his  intense  delight  by 
opening  wide  his  arms,  closing  them  around  her,  and  kissing  her 
wannly  on  each   cheek.     Poor  Miss  Burney  was  overwhelmed, 
and  the  Willises  were  delighted.     They  imagined  that  the  king 
was  doing  nothing  unusual  with  him  in  the  days  of  his  ordinary 
health,  and  were  pleased  to  see  him  fulfilling,  as  they  thought,  an 
old  observance. 

The  king  would  not  relax  his  hold  of  his  young  friend.  He 
entered  eagerly  into  conversation,  if  that  may  be  deemed  conver- 
sation in  which  he  alone  spoke,  or  was  only  answered  by  words 
sparingly  used  and  soothingly  intoned.  He  talked  rapidly, 
hoarsely,  but  only  occasionally  incoherently.  His  subjects  of  con- 
versation took  a  wide  range.  Family  affairs,  political  busmess, 
Miss  Bumey's  domestic  interests,  foreign  matters,  music, — ^these 
and  many  other  topics  made  up  the  staple  of  his  discourse.     He 


126 


LI7ES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


CHARLOTTE  SOPHIA. 


127 


was  the  least  rational  on  the  subject  of  music,  for  then  he  com- 
menced  singing  from  his  favorite  Handel,  but  with  voice  so  hoarse 
and  lU-attuned  that  he  frightened  his  audience.     Dr.  Willis  ^u-- 
gested  that  the  interview  should  close,  but  this  the  kin-  ener-ed- 
cally  opposed,  and  his  medical  adviser  thought  it  best°to  letliim 
have  his  way.     He  went  on  then,  wildly  as  before,  but  manifesting 
much  shrewdness ;  showed  that  he  was  aware  of  his  condition 
and  expressed  more   than   suspicion  of  assaults  made   upon  his' 
authority  during  his  own  incapacity.     He  talked  of  whom  he  would 
promote  when  he  was  fully  restored  to  health,  and  whom  he  would 
dismiss— made  allusion  to  a  thousand  projects  which  he  intended 
to  reahze,  and  attained  a  climax  of  threatening,  with  a  serio-comic 
expression,  that  when  he  should  again  be  king  he  would  rule  with 
a  rod  ot  iron.*  • 

After  various  attempts  at  interruption,  the  Willises  at  len-th 
succeeded  in  obtaining  his  consent  to  return  to  the  house,  and  Mhs 
Burney  hastened  to  the  queen's  apartment  to  inform  her  of  all 
that  had  passed.     The  queen  listened  to  her  tale,  with  breathless 
interest ;  made  her  repeat  every  incident ;  and  augured  so  well 
from  all  she  heard,  that  she  readily  forgave  Miss   Burney  her 
mvoluntary    infraction    of    a    very    peremptory    hiw.      Tiiat    the 
queen's  augury  was  well  founded  may  be  seen  in  the  fact  that  on 
the  12th  of  February  following,  king  and  queen  together  walked 
m  Kew  Gardens-he,  happy  and  nervous ;  she,  in  much  the  same 
condition  ;  and  both  as  grateful  as  mortals  could  be  for  inestimable 
blessings  vouchsafed  to  tliem. 

During  the  progress  of  the  king's  illness,  while  all  was  sombre 
and  silent  at  Kew,  j)olitical  intrigue  was  loud  and  active  elsewhere 
The  voice  of  the  queen  herself  was  not  altogether  mute  in  this 
intrigue.     She  liad  rights  to  defend,  she  had  spirit  to  assert  them 
and  she  had  friends  to  afford  her  aid  in  enabling  her  to  e^tabli^h 
them. 


CHAPTER  Vni. 

THE   "FIRST   gentleman"   AND   HIS   PRINCIPLES. 

When-  the  queen  first  changed  her  apartments   at   Windsor 
her  exclamation  as  she  entered  her  new  abode  was  an  assertum 
of  her  desolate  helplessness,  and  a  deploring  hesitation  as  to  what 
1  se  she  was  bound  to  take.     She  was  soon  stirred   o  action 
He    eldest  son  was  active  in  the  field  against  her,  and  her  spint 
va.  speedily  aroused  to  p«>teet  and  further  her  own  merest. 
The  parliament  had  been  made  acquainted  with  the  condition  of 
the  king,  by  a  report  from  the  privy  council.     With  ^'^^^^ 
laiure  was  not   satisfied.     Parliamentary  committees  .at,  before 
which  bodies  the   king's   physicians   made   detailed   depositions, 
whereby  the  king's  existing  incapacity  to  transact  public  busines 
was  established  beyond  doubt.     Upon  this  the  Whigs,  with  I  ox  at 
their  head  (he  had  hurried  home  from  Italy,  deplorably  ill,  to  per- 
fo^  this  service  for  the  Prince  of  Wales),  declared  that  the 
royal  incapacity  caused  the  government  of  the  kingdom  to  fal ,  as 
a  matter  of  right,  upon  the  heir-apparent.    This  assertion   wh^h 
is  1  full  and  complete  embi-acing  of  the  law  of  divine  right,  and  a, 
tramnUn-  underfoot  of  the  authority  of  the  pariiament,  wa.s  made 
iTnSS    just  one  hundred  years  after  the  grandfather  of  these 
very  Whi-^s  had  established  the  authority  of  the  people  in  pariia- 
ment  above  that  of  the  crown,  and  made  the  king,  who  reigned 
and  did  not  govern,  merely  the  first  magistrate  of  a  fr^e  people. 
Stran-^e  indeed  is  it  that  the  Whigs  should  be  found  advocatmg 
this  d'octrine  of  divine  right,  in  fevor,  t<K,,of  a  worthless  libertme  , 
but,  in  the  time  of  George  I.  they  too  had  substituted  septennial 
for  triennial  pailiamenU. 


128  LIVES  OP  THE  QUEENS    OF  ENGLAND. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  Tories,  with  Pitt  for  their  leader, 
dec  ared  .hat  thus  to  annihihue  the  sovereignty  of  the  people  in 
parliament  was  treason  against  the  constitution,  which,  in  a  June 
ture  hke  the  present,  bestowed  on  the  people's  representatives  the 
i.ght  of  nannng  by  whom  they  would  be  governed.  Thus  the 
Tones  were  „,  truth  radical  reformers:  and,  in  truth  quite  as 
serious,  both  part.es  were  equally  insincere,  fighting  only  for  place 

The  whole  country,  upon  this,  became  Torv  in  spirit-as  Torv 
rantthXt-'""^''  ''"''■     '"^  '"  -■""  -i'ained  til     e 
rnnce  of  ^  ales,  only  ,f  parliament  sanctioned  it.     In  vain  the 

in  tlie  lIou.-.e  of  Lords  that  he  made  no  claim  whatever  but  was 
in  fact,  the  very  humble  and  obedient  servant  of  the  p2,'  ' 

Party  sp,r„  ran  high  on  this  matter,  but  there  wis  h Ho'  „„  •  . 
>^'m  to  give  it  dignity.     Among  the  minisl  ev^n     b    '^ 
waverers,  who  wore  ,>„  .1         •      ,     '"'"'*"7>  ^^en.  there  were 

seemed  ^^^^^2^^.!::^:,::^  :^: ''-  ^'-f  -- 

as  s^n  as  there  appeared  a  hop    7li  r^  otT T    '""■'" 
Wd  the  sunshine,  and  could  nof  exist  i:ti:e  laT         "^  ""'" 

sympathy  thIn  Zi  J'r     \       """"^  "'"""'^""^'^  ""^'^  ''■•"'"".•J 
scori  we  1 S,  ,fe    '    T        :„'-■ ''"'^"''"'"  '»  """''  '•--  bi-o.her's 

-.  by  Pit..     alm^Sr  "nS;  r;t''^  "'  T  "^^  '"^^ 
themselves.    Ultimit.Iv  ,hl       J"""*''  """  «'"^y  «>uld  not  help 

«o  the  terms  whirp  .  '.^^  reTr"""''"^'''  "^•^■^'"'^-^^ 
upon  him.     Never  di    ^       1 1'."^''"''"'^"'  «ere  disposed  ,0  force 

"  did  man  submit  to  terms  which  he  loa.hed,  with 


CriARLOTTE  SOPHIA. 


129 


such  bitterness  of  di.«appointed  spirit,  a.s  the  prince  did  to  the  fol- 
lowing conditions ;  namely  : — 

That  the  king's  person  was  to  be  entrusted  to  the  queen ;  her 
majesty  was  to  be  also  invested  with  the  control  of  the  royal  house- 
hold, and  with  the  consequent  patronage  of  the  four  hundred  places 
connected  therewith,  including  the  appointments  of  lord-steward, 
lord-chamberlain,  and  ma.-ter  of  the  horse.  The  prince,  as  regent, 
was  further  to  be  debarred  from  granting  any  office,  reversion,  or 
pension,  except  during  the  king's  pleasure ;  and  the  privilege  of 
conferring  the  peerage  was  not  to  be  allowed  to  him  at  all. 

With  a  fiercely  savage  heart  did  he  accept  these  terms ;  and  when 
the  Irish  parliament,  in  its  eagerness  to  further  dissension  in  Eng- 
land, invited  liim  to  take  upon  himself  the  unrestricted  administra- 
tion of  the  government  during  the  royal  incai)acity,  the  warmth  and 
ardent  gratitude  expressed  by  the  prince  in  his  reply,  showed  how 
willingly  he  would  have  accepted  the  invitation  if  he  had  only 
dared. 

And  now  the  day  was  appointed  for  bringing  the  Regency  Bill 
regularly  before  parliament — Februar}-  the  third — and  the  clauses 
were  alreadv  under  discussion  when,  a  fortnight  later,  the  lord 
chancellor  (Thurlow)  announced  to  the  house  that  the  king  was 
declared  by  his  medical  attendants  to  be  in  a  state  of  convales- 
cence. 

When  Prince  Henry  was  detected  in  taking  the  crown  from  the 
head  of  his  invalid  and  slumbering  father,  he  met  the  reproof  which 
ensued,  with  tender  exj)ressions  of  sorrow  and  respect.  There  was 
little  of  similar  depth  of  feeling  when  the  Prince  of  Wales,  with 
the  Duke  of  York,  saw  his  father  for  the  first  time  after  his  recovery. 
Queen  Charlotte  alone  was  present  with  her  husband  and  sons. 
The  last  entered  the  king's  room  and  issued  therefrom,  without  a 
trace  of  emotion  upon  their  face,  or  in  their  bearing.  The  chagrin 
with  which  they  saw  the  power  which  they  had  coveted  slip  from 
them,  might  have  taught  thera  wisdom,  but  it  only  drove  them  to 
wine,  cards,  masquerades,  and  the  profligacy  which  goes  in  company 
therewith.  Tliey  were  not  as  men  rejoicing  that  heaven  had  been 
merciful  to  their  father  and  king,  but  as  men  striving  to  forget, 
amid  a  hurricane  of  vicious  pleasures,  that  their  sire  had  really 


130 


LIVKS  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


been  the  object  of  such  mercy.  The  prince  liad  indeed  some  mis- 
givings as  to  what  George  III.  might  think  of  his  conduct  during 
the  king's  malady ;  but  he  affected  to  assert  that  it  would  mee't 
with  approbation,  while  that  of  Mr.  Pitt,  he  thought,  would  receive 
from  the  monarch  a  strong  reproof.  The  Duke  of  York  was  far 
less  careful  as  to  the  paternal,  and  as  little,  as  to  public  opinion. 
He  ran  up  scores  in  open  tennis-courts  with  well-known  blacklegs, 
and  i)romised  payment  as  soon  as  he  had  received  from  his  father 
certain  arrears  of  revenue  due  to  him  as  Bishop  of  Osnaburgh. 

These  princely  sons  were  among  the  last  to  acquiesce  in  the 
opinion  that  their  father  was  sane,  and  competent  to  agjiin  exercise 
his  constitutional  authority.  Lord  Grenville  so  graphically  describes 
a  family  scene  at  Kew,  that  I  cannot  do  better  than  borrow  it  from 
the  letter  of  which   it  makes  so  startling  a  portion :—"  The  two 
princes  were  at  Kew  yesterday,  and  saw   the  king  in  the  (jueen's 
apartment.     She  was  present  the  whole  time,  a  precaution  for 
which,  God  knows,  there  was  but  Uhj  much  reason.     They  kept 
him  wahing  a  considerable  time  before  they  arrived,  and  after  they 
left  him  drove  immediately  to  Mrs.  Armstead's  in  Park  street,  in 
hopes  of  finding  Fox  there,  to   give  him  an  account  of  what  had 
passed.     He  not  being  in  town,  they  amused  themselves  yesterday 
evening  with  spreading  about  a  report  that  the  king  was  still  out 
of  his  mind,  and  with  (p.oting  phrases  of  his  to  which  they  gave 
that  turn.     It  is  certainly  a  decent  and  becoming  thing  that  when 
all  the  king's  physicians,  all  his  attendants,  and  his  two  i,rincip-il 
ministers  agree  in  pronouncing  him  well,  his  two  sons  should  deny 
It !     And  the  reflection  that  the  Prince  of  Wales  was  to  have  had 
the  government,  and  the  Duke  of  York  the  command  of  the  army 
during  his  illness,  makes  this  representation  of  his  actual  .fate' 
when  coming  from  them,  more  pectdiarly  proper  and  edifyin^. '     i 
bless  God  that  it  is  some  time  before  these  matured  and  ripened 
virtues  will  be  visited  upon  us  in  the  form  of  a  government  "* 

In  the  meantime  the  monarch  got  so  undeniabty  well  and  com- 
petent  to  govern  that  even  his  neai-est  and  most  expectant  heirs 
could  no  longer  deny  the,  to  them,  most  unwelcome  truth.     A  ball 


»  it 


Memoirs,"  &c.,  by  the  Duke  of  Buckingham. 


CHARLOTTE   SOPHIA. 


131 


was  given  by  White's  Club  to  celebrate  this  event,  and  the  princes 
of  course  were  present  to  show  how  they  were  gratified  by  it ! 
The  ball  was  announced  to  take  place  at  the  Pantheon,  and  the 
Prince  of  Wales,  who  had  engaged  to  attend,  previously  did  his 
wretched  utmost  to  render  the  attendance  of  others  as  thin  as  pos- 
sible, by  canvassing  all  his  friends  and  admirers  to  keep  away. 
The  club  liad  transmitted  to  the  Prince  and  the  Duke  of  York  a 
large  number  of  tickets  for  the  accommodation  of  themselves  and 
the  acquaintances  to  whom,  it  was  presumed,  they  might  be  desi- 
rous to  pay  the  comidiment  of  presenting  them  with  admissions. 
The  brothers  sent  the  whole  of  these  tickets  to  Hookham'sin  Bond 
Street  for  sale  !  The  club,  on  hearing  of  this  insulting  proceeding, 
and  to  prevent  the  admission  of  improper  persons  at  a  fete  which 
had  a  private  and  exclusive  character,  intimated  by  advertisement 
that  no  ticket  would  entitle  its  holder  to  admittance  which  did  not 
bear  on  it  the  signature  of  a  subscriber  to  the  ball,  or  of  the  person 
to  whom  the  committee  had  sent  such  ticket.  This  did  not  teach  the 
duke  decency.  He  affixed  his  princely  title  to  the  tickets,  to  make 
them  salable  and  valid  ;  and  he  himself  attended  a  ball  given  ex- 
pressly in  his  honor  at  the  Horse  Guards. 

The  first,  and  graceful,  feeling  of  the  monarch,  that  he  was  bound 
to  make  a  public  expression  of  his  thanks  to  heaven,  for  his  recov- 
ery, caused  his  ministers  and  friends,  and  particularly  the  queen, 
much  embarrassment.  They  were  afraid  of  the  excitement  and  its 
probable  consequences.  But  George  III.  was  now  in  the  condi- 
tion once  noticed  by  Hunter,  the  surgeon,  in  himself.  "  My  mind," 
said  the  latter,  "  is  still  inclined  to  odd  thoughts,  and  I  am  tempted 
to  talk  foolishly ;  but  I  can  govern  myself."  The  king  was  in 
better  health  than  is  here  indicated,  and  he  bore  himself  through- 
out the  day — the  25th  June,  1789 — as  became  a  grateful  man, 
abounding  in  piety,  and  not  dispossessed  of  wisdom.  The  dis- 
graceful rivalry  of  his  eldest  son  had  almost  marred  the  day.  The 
followers  of  the  latter  were  posted  along  the  first  part  of  the  route 
between  the  palace  and  St.  Paul's,  and  their  cheers,  associated 
with  his  name,  put  him  in  high  good  humor,  which  was  however 
converted  into  as  high  displeasure,  when  the  running  fire  of  cheers 
between  Charing  Cross  and  the  cathedral  was  raised  only  in  honor 


132 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


• 
of  his  father.  His  conduct,  and  indeed  that  of  his  brothers  York 
and  Cumberland,  as  also  of  their  cousin  the  Duke  of  Gloucester,  in 
the  cathedral,  during  service,  disgusted  all  who  witnessed  it.  Thej 
talked  aloud  to  one  another  during  the  whole  otherwise  solemn 
proceeding;  and  it  is  only  to  be  regretted  that  there  was  no  man 
present  with  courage  equal  to  his  authority,  to  sternly  reprove,  or 
summarily  remove,  them. 

The  scene  at  St.  Paul's,  as  regarded  the  king  himself,  was  at 
once  magnificent  and  touching.     The  internal  arrangements  were 
excellent,  and  the  king  was  composed  and  devout  throughout  the 
service ;  attentive  to  the  latter,  and  especially  to  the  anthem,  which 
he  -had  himself  selected.     His  air  of  sincerity  and  gratitude  was 
most  marked.     The  queen  was  much  affected  at  the  solemnity  of 
their  first  entrance ;  and  the  king,  who  looked  reduced,  scarcely 
less  so.     Lady  Uxbridge,  who  was  in  attendance  on  the  queen 
nearly  tainted  away.     "  As  the  king  went  out  of  the  church,"  «ayJ 
Mr.  Beniard  to  the  Marquis  of  Kockingham,  -he  seemed  to  be  in 
good  spirits,  and  talked  much  to  the  persons  about  him;  but  he 
stared  and  laughed  less  than  I  ever  knew  him  on  a  public  occasion  " 
Mr.  I  ox  and  most  of  the  opposition  party  were  there;  and  while 
the  queen  returned  thanks  for  the  king's  recovery,  as  she  looked 
upon  the  sons  near  her,  who  interrupted  the  solemnity  of  the  .cene 
by  their  talkuig,  she  might  have  felt  that  she  had  other  things  to 
be  thank  Id  for  also.     She  must  have  known,  by  the  conduct  of  the 
Prmce  ot  A\  ales,  that  had  the  king's  illness  lasted  much  longer  he 
would  have  accepted  the  invitation  of  the  Irish  parliament  Lnd 
assumed  a  regency  in  Ireland,  with  sovereign  power      iTe  Inhl 
ha.,  accomplished  then  what  O'Connell,  so^  Tg  aL,  flil  J 

achievmg-a  government  altogether  independent  of,  and  in  anta 
gonism  with,  England.  »       u  in  ania- 

After  the  retuni  of  the  procession,  the  Prince  of  Wales  and 
Duke  oflork  entered  Carlton  House,  where  having  put  on  . 
gimentals,  they  proceeded  to  the  ground  in  front  of  Suck  n"n  n 
House  at  the  windows  of  which  the  royal  family  had  Sjd 
themselves,  the  kmg  and  queen  being  most  prominent ;  an" 

"t^^Ist^^i^^^  r;  ^^^"-^-^  ^"  ^^ 

ine  ^ra\e  Lord  Bulkeley,  a  spectator  of  the 


CHARLOTTE   SOPHIA. 


183 


scene,  thus  describes  the  remainder  of  the  proceedings :  "  The 
prince,  before  the  king  got  into  his  carriage — which  the  whole  line 
waited  for,  before  they  filed  off — went  off  on  a  sudden  with  one 
hundred  of  the  common  people,  with  Mr.  Wattier  in  the  middle  of 
them,  huzzaing  him  ;  and  this  was  done  evidently  to  lead  if  possible 
a  greater  number,  and  to  make  it  penetrate  into  Buckingham 
House.  The  breach,"  adds  Lord  Bulkeley,  "is  so  very  wide 
between  the  king  and  prince,  that  it  seems  to  me  to  be  a  great 
weakness  to  allow  him  any  communication  with  him  whatever;  for 
under  the  mask  of  attention  to  their  father  and  mother,  the  Prince 
and  Duke  of  York  commit  every  possible  outrage,  and  show  every 
iasult  they  can  devise,  to  them.  .  .  I  believe  the  king's  mind  is 
torn  to  pieces  by  his  sons,"  adds  the  noble  lord.  And  then,  in 
allusion  to  the  king's  expressed  desire  to  visit  Hanover,  the  writer 
remarks  thereon  :  "  He  expects  so  relieve  himself  by  a  new  scene, 
and  by  getting  out  of  the  way  and  hearing  of  the  Prince  of  Wales, 
with  the  hope  of  being  able  to  detach  the  Duke  of  York,  whom  he 
fondly  and  doatingly  loves,  and  prevailing  on  him  to  marry  on  the 
continent ;  of  which  there  is  no  chance,  for  in  my  opinion  he  is 
just  as  bad  as  the  prince,  and  gives  no  hopes  of  any  change  or 
amendment  whatever,  in  thought,  word,  or  deed." 

A  very  short  time  after  the  king's  recovery,  the  first  remark 
made  by  the  sufferer,  on  growing  convalescent,  to  Lord  Thurlow, 
was — "  What  has  happened  may  happen  again.  For  God's  sake, 
make  some  permanent  and  immediate  provision  for  such  a  regency 
as  may  prevent  the  country  from  being  involved  in  disputes  and 
ditnculties  similar  to  those  just  over."  Thurlow  and  Pitt  agreed 
on  the  expediency  of  the  measure,  but  were  at  issue  relative  to  the 
details.  When  the  measure  did  come  before  parliament,  Queen 
Charlotte  was  equally  indignant  against  the  Prince  of  Wales  and 
against  those  who  advocated  his  claims.  It  may  be  added  here 
that  the  conduct  of  her  three  eldest  sons  continued  to  be  of  the 
most  insulting  nature  to  the  queen.  They  could  not  forgive  her 
for  ^legedly  standing  between  them  and  the  power  which  they 
coveted.  From  congratulatory  balls,  at  which  she  had  announced 
her  intention  to  be  present,  they  kept  away  all  persons  over  whom 
they  had  any  influence ;  and  at  a  ball  given  by  the  French  ambas- 


134 


LIVES   OF  THE   QUEENS  OF   ENGLAND. 


CUAKLOTTE   SOPHIA. 


135 


sador  on  the  30th  May,  the  Prince  of  Wales  and  the  Dukes  of 
York  and  Chirence  would  neither  dance  nor  remain  to  supper,  lest 
they  should  have  the  appearance  of  paying  the  smallest  attention 
to  her  majesty,  who  was  present. 

The  assertion  of  the  Prince  of  Wales  that  his  royal  father  would 
approve  of  what  he  had  done,  and  censure  Pitt,  proved  to  be 
totally  unfounded.  The  king  conveyed  to  the  parliament,  through 
the  lord  chancellor,  his  approval  of  the  measures  taken  by  ministers, 
and  expressed  his  gratitude  that  so  much  zeal  had  been  manifested 
by  them  and  parliament  for  the  public  good,  and  for  the  honor 
and  interest  of  the  crown.  Following  this,  came  a  sweep  of  all 
who  held  removable  otfices  under  the  crown,  and  who  had  opposed 
the  queen's  interests  and  the  king's  cause,  by  supporting  the  views 
of  the  prince.  Among  the  ejected  were  the  Duke  of  Queensberry, 
the  Marquis  of  Lothian,  Lord  Carteret,  and  Lord  Malmesbury. 

Mr.  Wright,  in  his  History  of  England  under  the  House  of 
Hano\er,  illustrated  from  the  caricatures  and  satires  of  the  day, 
states  that  the  popularity  of  the  ministers  did  not  increase  in  the 
same  proportion  as  that  of  the  king ;  for  the  reason  that  though  the 
people  approved  of  the  constitutional  measures  they  had  adoj)t(d 
at  the  late  crisis,  the  same  people  very  well  knew  that  they  were 
as  little  impelled  by  i)atriotism  as  their  adversaries.  jMr.  Wright 
notices  "a  rather  celebrated  caricature,"  by  Gillray,  entitled 
"  Minions  of  the  IMoou,"  published  a  little  later.  It  is  dated  the 
23rd  December,  1791,  but  is  generally  understood  to  refer  to  this 
affair.  It  is  a  parody  on  Fuseli's  picture  of  '•  The  Weird  Sisters,** 
who  are  represented  with  the  features  of  Dundas,  Pitt,  and  Thur- 
low.  They  are  contemplating  the  disk  of  the  moon,  which  repre- 
sents, on  the  briglift  side,  the  face  of  the  (pieen,  and  on  the  shroud- 
ed side  that  of  the  king,  now  overcast  with  mental  darkness.  The 
three  minions  are  evidently  directing  their  devotions  to  the  brighter 
side. 


J 


CHAPTER  IX. 

ROYALTY    UNDER   VARIOUS    PHASES. 

Among  the  few  bishops  who  took  the  *'  unrestricted "  side,  on 
the  Regency  Bill,  Bishop  Watson  of  Llandaff  was  the  most  active. 
No  doubt  his  activity  was  founded  on  conscientiousness,  for  there 
were  many  able  men  of  the  period,  who  were  by  no  means  violent 
partisans,  yet  who  were  ready  to  maintain  that,  according  to  the 
constitutional  law,  the  right  of  exercising  the  power  of  regent,  in 
the  case  of  incai)acity  on  the  part  of  the  reigning  sovereign,  rested 
in  the  next  heir,  the  Prince  of  Wales.  There  is  as  little  doubt  as 
to  the  queen's  having  looked  with  considerable  disfavor  on  all  who 
held  such  sentiments.  Among  those  who  did,  was,  as  I  have  said, 
the  Bishop  of  Llandaff.  If  Queen  Charlotte  felt  towards  the  prelate 
as  Queen  Caroline  used  to  do  towards  those  who  stood  between 
her  and  her  wishes,  the  fault,  if  fault  there  were,  was  not  attribut- 
able to  her,  but  to  the  minister.  He,  right  or  wrong,  and  most 
persons  who  knew  what  the  conduct  of  the  eldest  son  of  Charlotte 
was,  will  agree  that  he  was,  at  least,  morally  right, — he,  the  mi- 
nister, represented  to  her  that  all  who  supported  the  prince,  and 
opposed  the  ministerial  measure,  which  gave  great  power  to  the 
queen,  were  enemies  of  the  sovereign.  Charlotte  believed  this, 
and  perhaps  the  Whig  bishop  is  not  wrong,  who  says  that  the 
queen  lost,  in  the  opinion  of  many,  the  character  she  had  hitherto 
maintained  in  this  country,  by  falling  in  with  the  designs  of  the 
minister.  These  many  were,  however,  only  the  Whigs.  It  is, 
nevertheless,  unfortunately  true  that  the  queen  distinguished  by 
different  de"-rees  of  courtesy,  on  the  one  hand,  and  by  meditated 
affronts  on  the  other,  those  who  had  voted  with,  and  those  who 
had  voted  a<Tainst  tho  ministers,  "  inasmuch,"  says  Bishop  Watson, 


1S6  LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGIUND. 

"  that  the  Duke  of  Northumberland  one  day  said  to  me,  '  So,  my 
lord,  you  and  I  also  are  become  traitors.' " 

At  the  drawing-room  which  was  held  on  the  king's  recovery 
the  queen  received   Bishop  Watson  with  a   degree  of  coldness' 
which,  he  says,  «  would  have  a,)peared  to  hei-self  ridiculous  and 
lU-placed  could  she  have  imagined  how  little  a  mind  sueli  as  mine 
regarded  m  its  honorable  proceedings  the  displeasure  of  a  woman 
though  that  woman  happened  to  be  a  queen."     This  is  as  little 
gallant  towards  the  sex  generally,  and  civil  towards  Queen  Char- 
lotte m  particular,  as  ever  was  uttered  by  St.  Kevin,  with  universal 
apphcation,  from  the  pulpit,  or  addressed  by  him  from  the  rock 
with  especial  application  to  his  persevering  Kate.  ' 

But,  it  must  not  be  forgotten  that  if  the  queci.  had,  as  il  were 
two  faces  for  the  two  parties  into  which  society  at  court  was  divid- 
ed, her  eldest  son  exhibited  the  same  characteristic,  ami  he  wa. 
accordingly,  eminently  cordial  with  the  prelate  of  LlandaC  When' 
at  the  drawing-room  above-named,  the  queen  Wked  .lispleased  as" 
the  bishop  stood  before  her,  the  Prince  of  Wales,  who  was  stand- 
ing by  her  side,  immediately  asked  him  to  come  and  dine  with 
him.     A  more  unseemly  proceeding   cannot   well    be    imagined. 
On  my  making  some  objection,"  says  the  bishop,  "  to  dining  at 
Carlton  House,  the  prince  turned  to  Sir  Thomas   DuuA.s,  and 
asked  him  ,o  give  us  a  dinner  at  his  house  on  the  fbllowii.g  Satur. 
daj.       Ihe  party  was  arranged,  the  guests  met.  and,  while  they 
were  waiting  for  dinner,  the  prince  took  the  bishop  by  the  button- 
hole  and,  says  the  bishop,  '■  he  explained  to  me  the  principle  on 
MThich  he  had  acted  during  the  whole  of  the  king's  illness  and 
spoke  to  me,  with  an  afflicted  feeling,  of  the  manner  in  wlii";;  the 
queen  had  treated  himself.     I  must  do  him  the  justice  to  say  that 
he  spoke,  ,n  thn  conference,  in  as  sensible  a  manner  as  could  pos. 
sibly  have  been  expected  from  an  heir-appareut  to  the  throne,  and 
from  a  son  of  the  best  principles  towards  both  his  parents  "     The 
especia  words,  "in  this  conference,"  would  seem  ,o  implv'^iat  tlil 
Bon  Of  Charlotte  did  tiot  always  speak  in  as  sensible  a  manner  II 
could  Uave  been  expected  from  a  royal  heir-apparcnt.     It  would 
have  been  as  well,  too,  if  the  bishop  h,„l  told  his  readers  what  the 
pnnciple  was  on  which  the  prince  had  grounded   hi,   cond  .^ 


CHARLOTTE   SOPHIA. 


137 


throughout  the  king's  illness ;  and  when  he  simply  talks  of  the 
prince  as  a  son  imbued  with  the  best  principles  towards  both  his 
parents,  he  would  have  done  well  if  he  had  added,  whether  he 
was  considering  that  son  politically  or  morally.  I  think  it  must 
have  been  politically,  for  the  right  reverend  prelate  did  not  im- 
press upon  his  younger  friend  that  a  mother's  faults  should  be 
invisible  to  the  eyes  of  her  children ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  he 
rather  emphatically  charged  her  with  ill-humor,  by  advising  the 
])rince  to  '*  persevere  in  dutifully  bearing  with  his  mother's  ill- 
humor  till  time  and  her  o\\ti  good  sense  should  disentangle  her 
from  the  web  which  ministerial  cunning  had  thrown  around  her." 
Now,  to  persevere  in  a  line  of  conduct  is  to  continue  in  that  already 
entered  upon,  and  the  line  followed  by  the  prince  was  one  of  con- 
tinual insult  and  provocation  against  the  queen.  The  bishop  con- 
fesses an  inclination  to  think  well  of  her.  "I  was  willing,"  he 
writes,  "  to  attribute  her  conduct  during  the  agitation  of  the  regency 
question,  to  lier  apprehensions  of  the  king's  safety,  to  the  misre- 
presentations of  the  king's  minister,  to  anytliing  rather  than  a 
fondness  for  power."  There  is  something  inexpressibly  ingenuous 
in  the  paragraph  which  follows  : — "  Before  we  rose  from  table  at 
Sir  Thomas  Dundius's,  where  the  Duke  of  York  and  a  large  com- 
pany were  assembled,  the  conversation  turning  on  parties,  I  hap- 
pened to  say  I  was  sick  of  parties,  and  should  retire  from  all  public 
concerns,  '  No,*  said  the  prince,  '  and  mind  who  it  is  thai  tells  yon 
sOj  you  shall  never  retire — a  man  of  your  talents  shall  never  be 
lost  to  the  public' "  This  testimony  of  himself  was  recorded  by 
the  bishop  in  1814,  and  was  published  by  his  son,  in  the  queen's 
life-time,  in  1817.  Like  the  passage  touching  the  queen,  it  gave 
offenoe  to  the  principal  person  concenied  in  it.  The  aged  queen- 
consort  was  not  pleased  to  have  her  *'  ill-humor  "  registered  before 
the  world,  nor  was  her  son  flattered  by  the  innuendo  which  was 
conveyed  in  the  paragraph  which  chronicled  his  promise  of  con- 
ferring preferment  on  the  Bishop  of  Llandaff.  Dr.  "Watson  died 
prelate  of  that  small  diocese.  The  chief-butler  had  forgotten 
Joseph  and  his  services. 

We  should  do  but  poor  justice  to  the  queen  on  this  occasion  if 
we  omitted  to  state,  that  if  her  majesty  looked  coldly  upon  the 


138 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  EXGLAXD. 


prelate,  it  was  because  the  latter  had  deliberately  inflicted  an  an- 
noyance on  the  queen.    The  clergy  of  the  diocese  of  Llandaffpre- 
sented  congratulatory  addresses  to  both  their  majesties,  upon  the 
king's  recovery.     These  addresses  were  written  by  Bishop  Wat- 
son ;  and  in  that  which  he  presented  to  Queen  Charlotte,  he  inserted 
a  paragraph  which  he  avows,  in  his  memoirs,  that  he  knew  would 
be  disagreeable  to  her.     The  address  in  question,  after  expres<in- 
that  the  sympathy  of  every  family  had  been  extended  to  the  queen 
m  her  late  distress,  comj)limenting  her  on  the  sincerity  of  her 
piety,  the  amiableness  and  purity  of  her  manners  as  queen,  wife, 
and  mother,  and  referring,  in  laudatoiy  terms,  to  the  concern  which 
she  had  exhibited  for  the  monarch  during  his  late  unhappy  situa- 
tion, thus  proceeds :— -  We  obserred  in  the  deliberations  of'parlia- 
ment  a  great  diversity  of  opinions  as  to  the  constitutional  mode  of 
protecting  the  rights  of  the  sovereign  during  the  continuance  of  his 
mdisposition ;  but  we  observed  no  diversity  whatever  as  to  the 
necessity  of  protecting  them  in  the  most  effectual  manner.     This 
circumstance  cannot  fail  of  giving  solid  satisfaction  to  your  majesty  ■ 
for,  next  to  the  consolation  of  believing  that  in  his  recovery  he' 
has  been  the  especial  object   of  God's  mercy,  must   be  that  of 
knowmg  that  during  his  illness  he  was  the  peculiar  object  of  his 
people's  love  ;  that  he  rules  over  a  free,  a  great,  and  an  enlightened 
nation,  not  more  by  the  laws  of  the  land  than  by  the  wishes  of  the 
people." 

Upon  this  text  of  his  own  constructing,  the  bishop  makes  the 
followmg  comment  in  his  Autobiography  :--  The  first  part  of  this 
last  paragraph  I  hle^v  would  be  disagreeable  to  the  queen,  as  it 
contradicted  the  principle  she  wished  to  be  generallv  believed  and 
the  tnith  of  which  alone  could  justify  her  conduct-that  the  oppo- 
sition to  the  minister  was  an  opj>osition  to  the  kin-.     Now    as 
there  was  not  a  word  of  disaffection  to  the  king  in  anv  of  the'd'.- 
bates  m  either  house  of  parliament  during  the  transaction  of  the 
regency,  and  as  I  verily  believe  the  hearts  of  the  opposition  were 
as  warn,  with  the  king,  and  warmer  with  the  constitution,  than 
those  of  their  competitors,  I  thought  fit  to  say  what  w^us,  in  mv 
judgment,  the  plain  truth."     The  bishop,  however,  loses  si-ht  of 
the  tact  that  queen,  ministers,  and  a  great  majority  of  the  people 


CHARLOTTE  SOPHIA. 


139 


desired  a  restricted  regency,  in  order  that  the  rights  of  the  sovereign 
should  suffer  nothing,  in  case  of  recovery ;  and  that  queen,  min- 
isters, and  a  great  majority  of  the  people  felt  that  the  Prince  of 
AVales  had  no  divine  right  to  the  regency,  but  had  by  his  public 
and  private  conduct  shown  that  he  was  entirely  unworthy  of  hold- 
ing any  powers  but  under  constitutional  limitations. 

Previous  to  the  king's  recovery,  the  Bishop  of  Llandaff  had  ex- 
pressed himself  as  having  been  miserably  neglected  by  Mr.  Pitt, 
and  '*  I  feel  the  indignity  as  I  ought."  The  bishop  declares  that 
he  was  overlooked,  for  want  of  political  pliancy.  However,  we 
have  seen  that,  in  the  allegedly  offended  queen's  presence,  the 
Prince  of  Wales  ostentatiously  patronized  the  prelate,  and  subse- 
quently made  a  post-prandial  promise,  touciiing  preferment,  which 
he  never  fulfilled.  The  bishop  strongly  su.-pected  that  the  queen 
stood  in  his  way.  In  1805,  the  Duke  of  Grafton  wrote  to  him,  to 
give  him  early  intimation  that  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  was  not 
expected  to  live ;  but  "  I  had  no  expectation  of  an  archbishopric," 
says  Dr.  Watson,  "  for  the  Duke  of  Clarence  had  once  said  to  me 
(speaking  in  conversation  no  doubt  the  language  of  the  court), 
"  they  will  never  make  you  an  archbishop  ;  they  are  afraid  of  you.'* 
In  the  following  year,  the  bishopric  of  St.  Asaph  became  vacant, 
and  Dr.  Watson  applied  for  it,  to  Lord  Grenville,  stating  that  it 
"  would  be  peculiarly  acceptable  to  himself."  "  It  was  given  to  the 
Bishop  of  Bangor;  and  the  Bishopric  of  Bangor  was  given  to  the 
Bishop  of  Oxford."  Hereupon,  the  diocesan  of  Llandaff,  suspect- 
ing that  the  queen's  influence  was  exercised  against  him,  over  the 
king,  addressed  a  letter  to  the  Duke  of  Clarence,  begging  him  to 
lay  the  same,  which  contained  a  statement  of  the  writer's  wishes, 
before  the  Prince  of  Wales,  whom  the  bishop  "  most  earnestly  en- 
treated to  take  some  opportunity  of  doing  him  justice  with  the 
king."  Years,  however,  passed  on ;  and,  in  1810,  we  find  the  right 
reverend  prelate  expressing  himself  in  doubt  "  whether  it  is  by  her 
or  by  his  majesty  that  I  am  laid  on  the  shelf."  In  fact,  he  was  by 
far  worse  treated  at  the  hands  of  the  Prince  of  Wales,  whose 
cause  he  had  supported  against  queen,  ministers,  and  a  great  majo- 
rity of  the  people,  than  he  ever  was  by  the  queen  herself.  The 
prince  had  intimated  that  such  a  champion  should  not  go  without 


140 


LIVES   OF  THE   QUEENS   OF   ENGLAND. 


his  reward ;  and  that  the  prince  woukl  not  forget  the  prelate.    His 
higliness  did,  however,  completely  forget  the  right  reverend  father. 
We  do  him  wrong :  he  rememhered  him  on  one  occasion.     On 
May  3,  1812,  there  was  a  dinner  party  at  Carlton   House.     At 
these  parties  it  was  no  uncommon  thing  for  the  regent  to  tell  stories 
which  sent  the  queen's  fan  up  to  her  face,  with  a  remonstrating 
"George!  George  I"  to  induce  him  to  have  some  respect  for  de^ 
cency.     On  tlie  occasion  in  question,  however,  the  conversation 
turned  on  immorality  and  irreligion.     Mr.  Tyrrwhitt,  thereupon, 
told  a  story  how  he   had  been   in  society  with  a  Sussex  baronet, 
who  gave  utterance  to  such  profligate  and  atheistic  opinions  that 
Mr.  Tyrrwhitt  was  obliged  to  leave  the  room,  after  recommending 
the  blasphemer  and  libertine  to  look  into  Bishop  Watson's  "  Apo- 
logy" i'or  that   Bible  which  the  baronet  so  scoffed  at.     At   the 
royal  table,  ''the  baronet's  answer  was  produced  and  read,  expres- 
sive of  the  greatest  thankfidness  for  having  had  it  put  into  his 
hands,  as  it  not  only  had  decided  and  clearly  proved  the  error  and 
fallacy  of  every  opinion  he  had  before  entertained,  but  had  affoi-ded 
liim  a  degree  of  secret  comfort  and  tranquillitv  that  his  mind  had 
previously  been  a  stmnger  to."     The  regent,  tliereupon,  bethou-ht 
hunself  of  his  old  friend  of  Llandat^',  and  ordere<l  Mr.  Braddylfto 
communicate  to  him  the  highly  gratifying  anecdote.     Dr.  Wm^on 
returned  his  best  thanks  for  « this  instance  of  a  prince's  remem- 
brance of  a  retired  bishop;"  and  therewith  ended  the  patrona-e 
of  the  regent,  which  was  not  more  i)rofitable  to  the  prelate  than 
the  alleged  opposition  or  indifference  of  the  queen. 

I  have  before  noticed  how  heartily  the  queen  celebrated  the 
recovery  of  her  consort,  and  how  her  sons  endeavored  to  mar  the 
pubhc  congratulatory  festivals  held  in  joy  at   the  event.      The 
prince's  party  were  somewhat  ashamed,  it  would  seem,  at  what  had 
taken  place  in  connection  with  White's  Club  ball ;  and  the  club  at 
Brookes's  resolved  to  render  themselves  blameless  in  the  eyes  of 
the  queen,  who  was  supi)osed  to  be  more  indignant  than  her  con- 
sort at  the  measures  of  their  eldest  sons  and  their  followers      The 
club  at  Brookes's  hired  the  Opera-house,  and  gave  a  festival  to  the 
ladies,  consisting  of  a  concert,  recitations,  a  ball,  and  a  supper. 
At  this  festival  Mrs.  Siddons  was  engaged  to  appear  as  Britannia 


CHAKLOTIE   SOrillA. 


141 


and  recite  some  silly  verses,  by  silly  Merry,  in  which,  laudation  of 
the  king  was  qualified  by  political  instructions  to  the  people. 
"Long  may  he  rule  a  icilUng  land"  was  declaimed  by  the  actress, 
with  solemn  and  melodious  dignity ;  and  this  line  was  followed  by 
the  hint  to  the  people  that  "  Oh,  for  ever,  may  that  land  be  free !" 
A  long  roll  of  "infinite  deal  of  nothings"  followed,  in  which  scant 
courtesy  was  paid  to  the  queen;  and  Mrs.  Siddons,  having  got  to 
the  end  of  her  "  lines,"  astonished  the  spectators  by  an  exhibition 
of  the  "  pose  i)lastique,"  assuming  the  "  exact  attitude  of  Britannia, 
as  impressed  upon  our  copper  coin." 

Having  noticed  what  took  place  at  the  king's  drawing-room, 
omission  must  not  be  made  of  the  queen's,  held  by  her  in  March, 
especially  to  receive  congratulations  upon  the  happy  recovery  of 
her  consort.     More  than  usual  splendor  did  honor  to  the  occasion. 
The  queen  sat  on  a  chair  of  state,  under  a  canopy,  and  surrounded 
by  the  great  officers  of  her  household.     I  do  not  know  that  there 
was  anything  unusual  in  this,  but  eye-witnesses  declare  that  the 
blaze  of  diamonds  which  covered  her  majesty  was  something  more 
than   the  ordinary  glory.     Around  the  queen's  neck,  too,  was  a 
double  row  of  gold  chain,  supporting  a  medallion.     "  Across  her 
shoulders  was  another  chain  of  pearls,  in  three  rows ;  but  the  por- 
trait of  the  king  was  suspended  from  five  rows  of  diamonds,  fastened 
loose  upon  the  dress   behind,  and  streaming  over  the  person  with 
the  most  gorgeous  effect.     The  tippet  was  of  fine  lace,  fastened 
with  the  letter  G,  in  brilliants  of  immense  value.     In  front  of  her 
majesty's  hair,  in  letters  formed  of  diamonds,  were  easily  legible 
the  words,  "  God  save  the  King.'     The  princesses  were  splendidly, 
but  not  equally,  adorned.     The  female  nobility  wore  emblematical 
designs,  beautifully  painted  on  the   satin  of  their  caps,  and  fancy 
teemed  with  the  inventions  of  loyalty  and  joy.     At  half-an-hour 
after  six  o'clock,  her  majesty  quitted  the  drawing-room,  for  duties 
still  more  interesting." 

What  these  duties  were,  after  the  long  drawing-room,  Mr. 
Boaden,  from  whose  Life  of  Kemble  the  details  are  borrowed, 
does  not  inform  us ;  but  he  adds,  in  a  burst  of  eloquence  not  unlike 
the  tone  of  some  of  the  dramas,  of  which  he  discourses  so  pleas- 
antly, that  he  cannot  forbear  from  expresshig  the  full  conviction 


142 


LIVES  OF  THE    QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


of  his  understanding  and  his  heart,  that  no  more  glorious  being 
than  the  consort  of  George  III.  ever  existed.  *•  I  have  lived,"  he 
says,  "  to  see  a  miserable  delusion  withdraw  some  part  of  the  affec- 
tion of  the  muhitude  for  a  time ;  but  she  was  in  truth  the  idol  of 
the  people,  and  they  paid  to  her  that  sort  of  homage,  as  if  in  her 
person  they  were  reverencing  the  form  of  Virtue  itself" 

The  same  unreserved  panegyrist,  describing  her  majesty's  visit 
to  Covent  Garden  Theatre,  on  the  15th  of  April,  17ei9,  states  that 
she  was  accompanied  by  three  of  the  princesses — the  Princess 
Royal  most  unassuming,  we  may  parenthetically  add,  of  all  Char- 
lotte's daughters ;  the  Princess  Augusta  so  careless  as  to  what  she 
was  dressed  in,  provided  only  that  she   were  dressed;  and  the 
Princess  Elizabeth,  who  was  always  anxious  to  be  doing  little  ser- 
vices for  people  about  the  court,  as  though  anxious  to  forget  that 
she  was  burdened  by  being  great,  and  by  the  formalities  which 
she  must  observe,  to  give  greatness  dignity.     3Ir.  Boaden  strik- 
ingly and  briefly  describes  the  scene.     "  The  queen  entered  the 
royal  box  alone;   the  princesses  not  being,  for  a  few  minutes, 
ready.     On  the  appearance  of  the  queen,  a  shout  arose,  of  trans- 
port, from  the  spectators;  the  curtain   ran   up,  and  displayed  a 
transparency  which  had  the  words,  in  striking  letters.  Long  live  the 
King!  and  Mag  the  King  live  for  ever."'     For  all  this,  no  prepa- 
ration could  be  sutficient ;  and  tears  fortunately  came  to  her  relief. 
In  this  state  she  paid  her  compliments  to  her  people.     On  the  en- 
trance of  the  princesses,  the  emotion  somewhat  subsided 

*•  It  seemed  she  was  a  Queen 
Over  her  passion,  which,  most  rebel-like, 
Sought  to  be  king  o'er  her." 

The  entertainments  of  the  evening  had  no  allusion  whatever  to 
the  event.  They  consisted  of  He  would  be  a  Soldier,  and  O'Keefe's 
Aladdin.  The  simple  introduction,  by  Edwin,  of  giving  the  kin^r's 
health,  was  the  only  allusion  made  to  passing  events.  But  the 
house  cheered,  and  the  queen  smiled  and  nodded  her  gratification. 

Whilst  on  the  subject  of  theatricals,  it  may  be  noticed  that  the 
king  and  queen  not  only  patronized  Mrs.  Siddons.  but  that  the 
patronage  which  they  showed  to  this  lady  was  not  confined  to  wit- 


CHARLOrrE  SOPHIA. 


143 


nessing  and  applauding  her  performances  on  the  stage.     She  was 
a  frequent  visitor  at  Buckingham  House  and  Windsor ;  and  she 
was  among  the  first  to  discover  that  the  king's  mind  was  affected. 
On  occasion  of  one  of  her  visits,  after  her  task  was  done  of  reading 
a  play,  at  a  high  desk,  before  which  she  stood,  the  king  went  up 
to  her,  and  presented  her  with  a  blank  paper— blank,  with  the 
exception  that  his  signature  was  at  the  bottom  of  it.     Such  a  gift 
intimated  that  the  giver  bound  himself  to  make  any  amount  of  pe- 
cuniary  provision  which  the  will  of  the  actress  might  choose  to 
name,  above   the   royal   signature.      The   paper   was   doubtless 
received  with  a  graceful  and  grateful  dignity,  but  with  equal  pro- 
priety it  was,  on  the  eariiest  opportunity,  presented,  blank,  as  it 
was  received,  to  the  queen.     Her  majesty  was  veiy  pointed  in  the 
expression  of  her  approbation  at  conduct  so  delicate  and  dignified ; 
but  the  virtue  of  Mrs.  Siddons  was  left  to  be  its  own  reward. 

While  the  Duke  of  York  was  leading  a  ^- gay"  life,  running  in 
debt,  and  falling  .asleep  over  his  cards  (his  constant  habit),  to  find 
himself  a  great  loser  when  he  awoke,  his  next  brother,  Clarence, 
with  some  lively  i)ropensities,  too,  contrived  to  maintain  considera- 
ble popularity.     He  was  of  a  popular  profession.     At  the  age  of 
thirteen,  the  king  sent  him  as  midshipman  on  board  a  man-of-war, 
and  told  him  to  fight  his  way.     He  obeyed  the  injunction  by  hav- 
ing a  set-to  with  another  **  middy,"  soon  after  he  was  afloat,  and 
secured,  in  this  way,  the  respect  of  his  fellow-oflficers.     He  served 
under  Keith,  Hood,  and  Nelson.     His  sole  remark  on  first  seeing 
the  la^t-named  gallant  "shadow,"  was,  that  his  tail  seemed  more 
than  he  had  strength  to  carry.     The  little  duke  was  present  in 
several  actions,  and  shared  in  several  victories.     When  the  Span- 
ish commander,  Don  .Juan  de  Langera,  was  brought  prisoner  on 
board  the  ''  Prince  George,"  and  was  told  that  the  smart  and  active 
midshipman  whom  he  had  observed  on  duty  at  the  gangway,  was 
a  prince  of  the  blood,  and  son  of  the  reigning  king,  the  brave  but 
unlucky  captain  exclaimed,  -  Well  may  England  be  queen  of  the 
Beas,  when  the  son  of  her  sovereign  is  engaged  in  such  a  duty." 
The  companions  of  the  young  prince  were  not  the  most  suitable 
for  a  youth  of  his  condition  and  prospects,  as  far  as  refinement  is 
concerned ;  they  were  rude,  but  I  question  if  their  principles  of 


144 


LIVES   OF   THE    QUEENS   OF   ENGLAND. 


conduct  were  not  as  good  as  any  by  which  modern  middys  and 
lieutenants  are  influenced.  In  some  respects  they  were  better,  for 
I  do  not  imagine  that  if  any  one  of  the  lieutenants  of  Keith,  Hood, 
or  Nelson,  had  fallen  into  such  a  scrape  as  befell  Lieutenant  Royal 
of  the  Tiger,  he  would  have  expressed  "satisfaction"  at  being  jKjr- 
mitted,  at  the  theatre,  to  use  the  identical  glass  through  which  the 
hostile  commander  had  watched  the  destruction  of  a  IJritish  ship. 
The  rough  and  ready  manner  of  old  days  is  better  than  the  refine- 
ment which  takes  such  fbnn  and  expression  as  this ;  and  William 
Henry  was  little  the  worse  for  the  former,  although  Beau  Brum- 
mell  did  say  of  him,  that  he  was  never  good  for  anything,  but  to 
walk  about  a  quarter-deck,  and  cry  '•  luff." 

Walpole  writes  of  him,  in  1781),  '*The  Duke  of  Clarence,  no 
wonder,  at  his  age,  is  already  weary  of  a  house  in  the  middle  of  a 
village,  with  nothing  but  a  green  short  apron  to  the  river,  a  situa- 
tion only  fit  for  an  old  gentlewoman,  who  has  put  out  her  knee- 
pans  and  loves  cards."  The  writer  adds  that  were  the  duke  a 
commoner  and  a  candidate,  Richmond,  if  it  were  a  borough,  would 
return  him  unanimously.  -  He  pays  his  biUs  regularly''  himself, 
locks  up  his  doors,  that  his  servants  may  not  stay  out  late,  and 
never  drinks  but  a  few  glasses  of  wine."  Miss  Barney's  rei^rt 
would  lead  us  to  a  difierent  conclusion.  Walpole  adds,  "  Though 
the  value  of  crowns  is  mightily  fallen  of  late  at  market,  it  looks  Is 
if  his  royal  highness  thought  they  were  still  worth  waiting  for. 
Nay,  it  is  said,  he  tells  his  brothers  he  shall  be  king  before  either 
— this  is  fair,  at  least." 

William  Henry  was  not  always  so  blameless  in  his  economy,  as 
Queen  Charlotte  loved  to  see  him.  His  hospitality  at  the  Ad'mi- 
ralty  was  unbounded :  but  when  it  is  remembered  that  the  exercise 
of  it  during  fifleen  months,  ran  him  in  debt  to  the  amount  of  not 
less  than  three  and  twenty  thousimd  i^unds— why,  such  hospitality 
is  rather  to  be  censured  than  eulogized.  He  was  as  profuse  when 
kmg,  till  liis  treasurer,  Sir  F.  Watson,  confessed  his  inability  to 
go  on.  ^ 

The  second  son  of  Queen  Charlotte  delivered  his  maiden  speech 
m  the  House  of  Lords  at  the  close  of  1788.  A  few  months  afler 
he  made  another  speech,  in  private  society,  which  might  have  had 


CHARLOTTE  SOPHIA. 


145 


a  very  fatal  issue.     He  stated  that  Colonel  Lennox  (afterwards 
Duke  of  Richmond)  had  been  addressed  at  Daubigny's  club,  in 
language  which  no  gentleman  would  have  quietly  listened  to,  as 
the  colonel  had  done.     The  latter,  on  parade,  asked  for  an  explan- 
ation.    The  duke  refused,  ordered  him  to  his  post,  and  offered  him 
"  satisfaction  "  if  he  felt  himself  aggrieved.     The  colonel  appealed 
to  the  club  as  to  whether  the  members  adopted  the  duke's  state- 
ment.    They  remained  silent ;  and  the  result  was  a  duel  on  Wim- 
bledon Common,  on  the  26th  of  May,  1789.    Lord  Rawdon  accom- 
panied  the  duke,  and  the  Earl  of  Winchelsea  attended  on  the 
colonel.     The  duel  ended  with  no  bloodier  finale  than  the  loss  of 
a  curl  on  the  part  of  the  duke.     The  latter,  it  was  found,  had  not 
fired,— he  refused  to  fire,  bade  the  colonel  fire  again,  if  he  were 
not  satisfied,  and  rejected  every  inducement  held  out  to  him  to 
make  some  explanation.     On  this  the  parties  separated. 

There  was  some  littleness  of  spirit  in  what  followed.      The 
colonel  was  present  at  a  court  ball,  at  which  the  queen  presided, 
and  formed  part  in  a  country  dance  of  which  the  Prince  of  Wales,' 
and  other  members  of  the  royal  family,  were  also  a  portion.    The 
prince,  who  was  remarkable  for  his  gallantry,  did  not  exhibit  that 
quality  on  the  present  occasion.     He  passed  over  the  colonel,  and 
the  lady  his  partner,  without  "  turning  "  the  latter,  as  the  laws,  of 
contre-datise  required.     The  prince's  conduct  was  imitated  by  both 
his  brothers  and  sisters,  and  the  colonel's  partner  was  thus  sub- 
jected to  most  unwarrantable  insult.     The  queen,  who  according 
to  Mr.  Rush,  had  marked  her  opinion  of  the  colonel's  conduct,  by 
graciously  speaking  to  him,  remarking  the  chafed  look  of  her  son, 
and  addressing  some  inquiry  to  him,  was  answered  that  he  was 
heated,  because  he  disliked  the  company.      Upon  this  hint,  the 
queen  rose,  and  the  festive  scene  was  brought  to  a  disturbed  and 
sudden  conclusion. 

The  fall  of  the  year  was  passed  in  the  south  of  England,  with 
Weymouth  for  head-quarters.  The  king  and  queen  were  not 
without  peculiar  annoyances  here,  chiefly  in  the  threats  of  assas- 
sination, conveyed  in  private  letters.  The  queen  indeed,  like  the 
king,  disregarded  them,  but  she  feared  the  evil  effect  they  might 

have  on  his  excitable  mind.     Among  the  visits  paid  by  them  to 
Vol.  IL — 7 


146 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


private  individuals,  was  one  to  the  Roman  Catholic  proprietor  of 
Lulworth  Castle,  Mr.  Weld,  the  brother  of  Mrs.  Fitzherbert. 
They  were  present  in  the  chapel  attached  to  the  castle,  during  the 
celebration  of  divine  service,  and  remained  while  the  anthem  was 
sung, — without  any  ill-eftects  resulting  to  Protestantism. 

In  January,  1790,  the  fears  of  the  queen  were  again  excited 
for  her  consort,  at  whom  a  stone  was  thrown  by  a  mad  Lieu- 
tenant Frick,  as  his  majesty  was  on  his  way  to  the  House  of 
Lords.  The  muse  was  hardly  more  sane  or  loyal  than  the  lieu- 
tenant, for  Peter  Pindar  wrote  of  this  incident  : 

•'  Folks  say  it  was  lucky  the  stone  missed  the  head, 
When  lately  at  Caesar  'twas  thrown  ; 
I  think,  very  differeut  from  thousands  indeed, 
'Twas  a  lucky  escape  for  the  stone." 

The  popularity  of  the  queen  was  hardly  greater  than  that  of 
the  king.  At  the  time  of  the  latter's  illness,  she  was  assailed  with 
unmeasured  vituperation  by  the  opposition  papers.  Even  her 
interviews  with  Pitt  were  made  base  account  of,  in  order  to  raise 
the  public  odium  against  her.  In  the  present  year  the  "  Hopes 
of  the  Party,"  a  caricature  so  named,  by  Gillray,  served  to  show 
the  supposed  wishes  of  the  opposition.  The  caricature  rej)resents 
many  revolutionary  horrors.  Among  them  is  what  is  termed  '•  a 
pair  of  pendants,"  showing  the  queen  and  prime  minister  each 
hanging,  in  the  new  French  fashion  of  aristocrats  u  la  lanfenie, 
from  a  lamp  iron.  "  It  is  commonly  believed,"  says  Mr.  Wright, 
in  the  History  from  which  a  passage  has  been  already  quoted,  *'  that 
Pitt  and  Queen  Charlotte  were  closely  leagued  together  to  pillage 
and  oppress  the  nation ;  and  she  was  far  h'->  popular  than  the 
king,  whose  infirmity  produced  general  sympathy,  and  who  had 
many  good  qualities  that  endeared  him  to  those  with  whom  he 
came  in  contact.  In  another  part  of  Gillray's  picture,  the  king  is 
brought  to  the  block,  held  down  by  Sheridan,  while  Fox,  masked, 
acts  as  executioner.  Priestly,  with  pioys  exhortations,  is  encou-- 
raging  the  fallen  monarch  to  submit  to  his  hard  fate."  Later  in 
the  year,  in  September,  the  queen's  second  son,  Frederick  Duke 
of  York,   married  Frederica,  eldest   dau^^hter  of  the    Kinir   of 


CHARLOTTE  SOPHIA. 


147 


Berlin      T       ^7""^"  '""  ^"°'<'™"'^"<1  "^  Michaelmas  Day,  at 
Bchn      The  bnde   was   then  in   her   twenty-fourlh  year,   her 
husband  m  h,s  twen.y-eighth.      She  was   fair,  virtuou.    a  com 
pMana  kindly.he.r.ed-by  far  too  good  a  Ivife  for  the  ,0! 
gate  pnnce  to  whom   she  was  allied.     The  newly-married  pair 
U^avelled  to  England  through  France,  where  the/met  ,Wth  b" 
rough  treatment  from  the  republican  mob,  some  of  whom  ve^ 
u,.eremon,ously  scratched   the   royal  arms  off  their  car riagcT 

2'^  TZ7  i  "r'T  ''^  -P-f-"'^''  in  England  onThe 

Afrd  of  xNovember   by  the  Archbi.hop  of  Canterbury,   in    pre- 

ence  of  the  entire  royal  family.      By  an  addition  of  eighteen 

JK>  sand  pound,  to  the  duke's  income,  his  revenue  amoumed    ^ 

?n  '^e  of  rer"":         "  T"""'  '"'"'"'•  ""^  ""'''''  °"  ">-=  <'-'--, 
iu  case  ot  lier  survivmor  him. 

The  queen,  accompanied  by  the  king  and  the  elder  bt^nehes 

llJTed  Thl  .  -<'/\-"><""o-  matter  that  can  well  be 
concuvid.     The  visit  took  the  form  of  a   tea-party;   it  ou-^hf 

herefore,  .0  have  been  social  and  chatty,  but  it  was  a  iff  ^nj 
..lent  a.  much  ceremony  and  formal  etiquette  could  make         The 

which  cheer  and  not  inebriate,  ceremony  las  soon  dissi  d  •  and 
.he  king  getting  loquacious,  the  family  party,  before  the  nHi't  waJ 
far  gone,  became  a.  mirthful  and  pleasant  as  if  it  had  been  lid" 
up  of  more  mirthful  and  pleasant  materials.  ' 

Despite   the   great   ,K>pularity  of  the   excellent   duchcs    the 

m-law.     In  one  of  the  satirical  prints  bv  Gillrav  1 1..  i  •  ^ 

queen     the  latter  most  outrageously  carici.utSr  '  e^d 

in  ec^tasj,  offering  eager  welcome  to  the  duchess      The 
rill  °c  TlrT  'r  ''""'  '°  ''"''^  --  "^  "'^  -^'">  ani 

.1    J  i„  •    •  V    ■,  '*"'^'"  ""^  ^"- apron  fuU  of  money  and 

the  duke  IS  introducing  her  to  his  parents:  ^' 


148 


LIVES   OF  THE   QUEENS   OF    ENGLAND. 


The  poor  duchess,  it  may  here  be  stated,  was  soon  one  of  the 
unhappiest  of  wives.  The  profligacy  and  sliameless  infidehty  of 
her  husband,  to  whom  she  had  been  fondly  attached,  disgusted  her. 
His  extravagance  involved  him  in  a  ruin  from  which  he  could 
never  relieve  himself,  and  which  his  creditors  never  forgot.  It 
made  many  a  hearth  cold,  and  it  brought  misery  to  that  of  the 
duchess.  For  six  vears  she  bore  with  treatment  from  the  **  com- 
mander-in-chief "  such  as  no  trooper  under  him  would  have  in- 
flicted on  a  wife  equally  deserving.  At  the  end  of  that  time,  the 
ill-matched  pair  separated,  and  the  duchess  withdrew  from  the 
world ;  but  in  her  retirement  she  forgot  none  of  the  duties  which 
it  could  fairly  demand  of  her.  She  was  beloved  by  all,  and  wa.s 
popularly  and  affectionately  mentioned  by  th^  popular  voice  as 
*•  the  poor  soldier's  friend." 

She  was  indeed  the  friend  of  all  who  needed  lier  service,  and 
did  not  refuse  even  to  give  to  poor  "  Monk  "  Lewis  the  meed  of 
admiration  which  his  little  vanity  required.  lie  was  once  met 
coming  in  tears  from  the  duchess's  drawing-room ;  and  on  inti- 
mating to  his  questioner  that  they  had  their  source  in  the  very 
kind  and  flattering  things  the  duchess  had  said  to  him,  the  weeper 
was  roughly  consoled  by  his  acquaintance,  with  the  soothing 
advice,  to  ••  Never  mind,  as  perhaps  she  did  not  mean  it  I" 

Never  were  the  allegt<l  avarice  of  the  king  and  queen  more 
bitterly  satirized  than  during  this  year  (1791).  The  king,  how- 
ever, was  a  cheerful  giver,  and  the  amount  of  property  which  the 
queen  left  at  her  death  proves  that  she  was  no  hoarder.  The 
caricaturists,  nevertheless,  smote  them  mercilessly.  Peter  Pindar 
assailed  them  in  coarse  and  witless  lines,  that  hud  in  them  a  cer- 
tain rough  humor,  but  as  ill-natured  as  rough.  Gillray  exhibited 
them  as  cheapening  wares  in  the  streets  of  Windsor.  In  another 
print,  the  king,  in  the  commonest  of  garbs,  was  seen  toasting  his 
own  muffins ;  and  the  queen,  with  a  hideous  twist  given  to  her 
now  plain  features,  and  with  pockets  bursting  with  the  national 
money,  was  depicted  busily  engaged  in  frying  sprats  for  supper. 
In  another,  the  queen  is  sourly  commanding  her  highly-disgusted 
daughters  to  take  their  tea  without  sugar,  as  a  saving  to  papa. 
There  were  many  of  a'  similar  cast,  and  not  a  few  which  exposed 


CHARLOTTE  SOPHIA. 


149 


the  vices  to  which  the  princes  of  the  family— young  men  of  great 
hopes  and  with  much  kindliness  of  feeling,  but  with  little  principle 
— had  unfortunately  surrendered  themselves. 

The  king  himself  was  ever  depicted  as  slovenly  both  in  dress 
and  gait— the  queen  as  mean  in  attire  and  sharply  sour  of  visage. 
The  latter  always  wears  a  far  more  acute,  but  a  less  inquiring,  air 
than  her  husband.  This  was  a  true  reflection.  After  Dr.  Johnson 
had  his  celebrated  interview  with  the  monarch  at  Buckingham 
Palace,  he  is  said  to  have  declared  that  "  His  majesty  seems  °o  be 
possessed  of  some  good  nature  and  much  curiosity;  as  for  his  nous, 
it  is  not  contemptible.  His  majesty,  indeed,  was  multiflirious  in 
his  questions ;  but,  thank  God  I  he  answered  them  all  himself." 

The  public  discontent  and  the  general  distress  increased  greatly 
at  this  time,  and  had  their  effect  in  throwing  a  gloom  over  the 
court  circle.  The  old  formality,  and  not  a  very  diminished  festivity 
were  still,  however,  maintained  there,  and  the  republican  fashions 
of  France  were  held  in  abhorrence  at  Windsor. 

The  sons  of  Queen  Charlotte  were  not  so  formal  in  their  be- 
havior towards  her,  before  witnesses,  a.s  the  daughters  were.     The 
Duke  of  York  was  now  the  most  observant  of  ceremony,  but  he 
exhibited  therewith  a  show,  perhaps  a  reality,  of  very  tender  feel- 
ing.    Even  on  common  occasions  the  household  of  the  queen  was 
encumbered  by  much  stiffness  of  observance  of  etiquette.     It  was 
not  an  uncommon  occurrence  for  the  Duke  of  York  to  attend  at 
his  mother's  toilette,  conversing  with  her  during  its  closing  progress. 
M  hen  this  was  the  case,  and  the  dresser's  task  was  done°  that'lady 
could  not  leave  the  room,  if  the  duke  happened  to  stand  between 
her  and  the  door ;  to  cross  the  duke  would  have  been  a  terrible 
breach  of  good  manners.     Nor  could  the  queen  help  the  dresser ; 
all  that  the  illustrious  lady  could  do  was  to  watch  till  the  duke' 
changed  his  position,  and  then  with  a  smile,  and  a  ''Now,  I  will  lot 
you  go,*'  give  freedom  to  the  dresser,  longing  for  liberty. 

The  Prince  William  (Duke  of  Clarence)  was  the  least  courteous 
of  the  sons  of  Charlotte.  But  it  must  be  remembered  that  he  not 
only  went  early  to  sea,  but  it  was  at  a  time  when  roughness  of 
manner  was  considered  as  more  becoming  to  a  naval  officer  than 
refinement ;  to  support  the  character,  the  young  prince  probably 


150 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEEXS  OF  ENGLAND. 


assumed  more  coarseness  of  style  and  speech  than  was  really  na- 
tural to  him.     The  queen's  birth-day  drawing-room,  in  1791,  was 
followed  by  a  ball,  at  which  the  pretty  Princess  Mary  was  to 
dance  her  first  ynmuet  in  pubUc,  and  her  brother,  the  smlor  prince, 
had  promised  to  be  her  partner.     But  previous  to  the  ball  there 
was  a  dinner,  and  at  a  birth-day  dinner,  there  was  more  champa-ne 
drunk  by  the  prince,  than  on  ordinary-  days.    Under  its  inspiratron 
the  duke  found  his  way  to  the  table  of  some  of  the  ladies  and  -en-' 
tlemen-in-waiting.     There   he  i-uled  as  king,  insisted  upon  more 
champagne,  compelled  the  not  unwilling  gentlemen  to  drink  with 
hmi  glass  after  glass,  laughed  at  its  effects  upon  them  and  himself, 
smacked  the  servants  on  the  shoulder,  abused  them  good-humored- 
ly,  praised  his  sister  Mary,  had  more  champagne,  kissed  the  hand 
of  old  Madam  Schwellenberg,  with  infinite  mock  heroics,  was  al- 
ways going,  and  never  went,  and  ended  all  he  said  with  the  common 
oath  of  gentlemen,  a  loudly  uttered  "  by  God  !"     With  a  mornin- 
so  spent,  he  was  not  likely  to  be  steady  enough  for  the  minuet  a° 
night.     In  fact,  he  was  infapable  of  appearing  at  the  ball  at  all ; 
much  to  the  chagrin  of  the  queen ;  still  more  to  that  of  the  Princess 
Mary,  to  whom,  however,  the  offender  made  less  ai>ology  the  next 
morning,  than  confession,  that  on  the  queen'g  birth-day  he  had 
been  '•  too  far  gone  "  to  think  of  dancing. 

The  Prince  of  Wales  wiis  not  more  temperate  even  on  ordinary 
occasions ;  and  he  was  less  heartily  courteous  to  ladies  than  his 
brothers,  while  perhaps  he  was  more  formally  polite.  Miss  Humey 
describes  him  as  staring  at  her,  when  she  was  in  attendance  upon 
the  queen,  not  haughtily  or  impertinently,  she  says,  but  in  an  "  ex- 
tremely curious  manner"— probably  as  Don  Juan  may  have  looked 
upon  Zerlina. 

With  all  the  queen's  respect  for  the  foi-mality  of  court,  she  en- 
joyed herself  most  when  she  was  least  observant  of  it.  Reading 
the  letters  of  Johnson  and  Mrs.  Thrale,  she  liked  to  talk  them 
over  with  Miss  Burney,  who  could  explain  so  many  circumstances 
connected  with  them  which  would,  otherwise,  have  been  incompre- 
hensible to  the  queen.  She  loved  to  hear  her  dresser's  graphic 
account  of  Warren  Hastings'  trial,  whither  she  had  sent  her  with 
a  reticule  stuffed  full  of  cakes  from  the  queen's  own  table.     At 


CHARLOTTE   SOPHIA. 


151 


i 

■f 
J 


Cheltenham,  when  she  accompanied  the  king  thither,  previous  to 
his  late  illness,  the  royal  residence  was  of  such  contracted  dimen- 
sions, and  so  scant  of  accommodation,  that  her  majesty  dressed  and 
undressed  in  the  drawing-room.  Many  of  her  ladies  would  not 
have  submitted  half  so  cheerfully  as  she  did  to  such  an  arrange- 
ment. In  the  rural  expeditions  of  the  royal  pair,  there  was,  indeed, 
a  comic  sort  of  mixture  of  formality  and  fun.  At  Weymouth,  for 
instance,  when  the  king  went  to  take  his  "  dip,"  the  i-oyal  machine 
was  followed  by  another  full  of  fiddlers,  and  other  most  musical 
persons,  who,  as  the  monarch  i)lunged*nto  the  ocean,  saluted  him 
and  the  bold  deed  with  "  God  save  the  King,"  horribly  out  of 
tune ! 

It  was  when  the  royal  pair  were  at  W^eymouth  that,  on  one 
occasion,  the  mayor  of  the  borough,  after  presenting  an  address, 
and  receiving  the  stereotyped  answer,  boldly  walked  up  to  the 
queen  to  kiss  her  hand.  "  You  must  kneel,"  whispered  the  master 
of  the  ceremonies.  Mr.  Mayor  not  heeding  the  court  guide,  con- 
tinued standing,  and  in  that  position,  kissed  the  royal  hand.  As 
he  retired,  the  highly  offended  master  of  the  ceremonies  remarked 
angrily :  **  Sir,  you  ought  to  have  knelt."  "  Sir,"  said  the  mayor, 
"  I  can't ;  don't  you  see  I  have  got  a  wooden  leg  ?" 

It  is  upon  record  that  the  queen  once  attempted  to  write  some 
verses ;  and  having  got  to  the  third  line,  gave  the  matter  up  in 
despair— leaving  her  "  reader  "  to  finish  and  perfect  the  rhymes. 
The  occasion  was,  on  presenting  a  pair  of  old-flishioned  gloves  to 
Lord  Harcourt,  who  had  an  aflection  for  ancient  gear,  and  cared 
more  for  old  gloves  than  new  verses.    Miss  Burney  acquitted  her- 
self, however,  very  weU  with  her  impromptu  ;  indeed,  she  may  be 
said  to  have  been  the  queen's  laureate,  during  the  five  years  she 
served  that  sovereign.     Her  royal  mistress  employed  her  to  com- 
pose some  congratulatory^  verses  on   the  king's  recovery  from  his 
serious  indisposition  ;  and  of  these  it  may  be  said  that  if  Warton, 
over  whom  paralysis  was  then  pending,  might  have  written  better' 
Henry  James  Pye,  the  succeeding  laureate,  could  hardly  havj 
written  worse. 

The  taste  of  the  queen  was  itself  not  unimpeachable.     With  re- 
gard to  the  drama,  .he  would  rather  have  seen  little   Quick  in 


152 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


TonyLumpkm,  than  Mrs.  Siddons  in  Lady  Macbeth.     So,  her 
"reader    was  not  ealled  upon  to  exert  her  powers  upon  any  ^reat 
works      The  first  book  she  was  required  fo  read  a^ud  wL'c"! 
rr  '  ^Z    ,       ?^  ^'"^  Honeycomb.   The  young  lady  mu.t  have 
t  AT  "f "!''"''  ^f  'he  novel-reading  Polly,  whose  heart  beat 
for  ]Mr  Scnbble,  and  into  whose  head  her  sire  could  not  beat  a 
fevorable  opinion  for  "the  rich  Jew's  wife's  nephew,"  Mr.  Led<.er 
The  young  princesses  were  listeners,  and  it  could  hardly  hive 
been  edifying  for  them  to  hear  the  rollicking  Polly  say  of  her  fa- 
ther :     Lord  lord  !  my  stupid  papa  has  no  taste  ;  he  has  no  notion 
of  humor  and  character,  and  the  sensibility  of  delicate  feelin..." 
A  novel,    says  Miss  Honeycomb,  "  is  the  only  thing  to  teach  a 
gu-  life,"  and  she  adds,  '•  Every  girl  elopes  when  her^rents  are 
obstinate  and  ilUatured  about  marrying  her."     Her  ridicule  of 
the  long-lived  affection  of  her  parents  is  expressed  in  the  coarsct 
manner ;  and  she  thinks  it  a  good  joke  that  her  father  recommends 
her  to  read  the  "  P^ctiee  of  Piety ;"  she  runs  away  with  a  scamp 
and  her  honest  lover,  rightly  dis-enamored,  declares  of  her  ,h.!,t 
he  would  not  underwrite  her  for  ninety  per  cent."     What  Mi«s 
Pope  made  ofPo/Zyand  King  of  &„W.,  when  this  farce  was  first 
produced,  m  1760,  it  is  not  worth  inquiring.     Miss  Pope  was  con- 
sidered great  in  u ;  but  it  is  worth  noticing  that  when  Miss  Burney 
was  reading  the  piece  to  the  queen  and  her  daughter.^,  an  acti^ss 
whose  narne  can  never  be  separated  from  that  of  the  queen's  third 
son    and  to  his  disgrace,  was  then  turning  half  the  heads  in  town 

SnnWe,  and  the  piece  seems  to  have  found  its  way  to  court,  as  the 
Dragon  of  Wantley  did  in  the  preceding  reign,  on  the  strength  of 
Its  popularity.  ^ 

The  reader  to  the  royal  audience  performed  her  vocation  under 
great  disadvantages.  She  read  on  in  mortal  silence  on  the  part 
of  those  who  listened;  neither  comment,  applause,  or  feelinn^  of 
any  sort  was  ever  exhibited;  and  when  Miss  Burney  had  to 'read 
other  of  the  elder  Colman's  plays,  and  once  ventured  to  relieve 
the  voice  fatigued  by  long  reading,  by  making  some  remark  on 
the  construction  of  the  piece,  the  innovation  was  submitted  to  with- 
out bemg  commended. 


CHARLOTTE  SOPHIA. 


153 


i  :i 


This  scene  of  a  queen  whose  high  moral  character  and  purity 
of  taste   have   been  long  matters   for   eulogy,  seated   amid   her 
daughters,  listening  to  a  farce  which  would  liardly  now  be  tolera- 
ted by  a  Tran.-iiwntine  audience,  is  not  a  pleasant  one.     But  it 
should  be  remembered  that  society  had  not  yet  freed  itself  from 
the  uncleanness  with  which  it  had  been  overwhelmed  during  the 
two  preceding  reigns.     The  imspeakable  degradation  into  which 
the  first  two  Georges  dragged  the  country  must  not  be  forgotten, 
though  it  may  not  be  detailed.     While  detesting  the  restrictions 
with  which  monarchy  had  been  loaded  in  the  great  revolution, 
they  indulged    unrestrainedly  in    the   worst    coarseness  of  vice. 
Kept   back    from    pressing   despotically   upon    the    people,   they 
yielded  unbridled  sway  to  their  own  passions,  and  their  infamous 
example    corrupted   three-fourths  of  society.      Caroline    herself 
would  listen   to  stories   told  her  by  Sir  Robert   Walpole,  upon 
which  the  eye  of  the  student  of  history  cannot  rest  without  a  blush 
of  indignation  mantling  in  his  cheek.     If  the  Stuarts  were  vicious, 
they  were,  in  a  certain  degree,  gentlemanlike  in  their  vices.     The 
first  two  Georges  were  as  vicious,  but  they  had  none  of  the  refine- 
ment of  the  Stuarts,  and  would  have  been  to  the  full  as  tyrannical 
had  the  men  of  p:ngland  left  them  the  power.     Their  conduct  was 
enough  to  render  monarchy  detested,  and  the  name  of  Brunswick 
execrable.     The    domestic  virtues    of  George   III.   and    Queen 
Charlotte  insured  respect  for  the  first,  and  surrounded  the  latter 
name  with  something  like  a  halo  of  love.     If  there  be  any  yet 
among  us  who  sing,  **  Hail  Star  of  Brunswick,"  with  any  mental 
reservation,  the  reason  may  probably  be  traced  to  impressions  re- 
ceived from  the  records  of  the  first  Georges.     The  tone  of  society 
had  -  not  yet  recovered  itself  fully,  when   Queen  Charlotte  had 
"  Polly  Honeycomb  "  read  aloud  to  herself  and  daughters.     It  is 
true  that  her  majesty  also  listened  in  like  company  to  the  teaching 
of  Mrs.  Hannah  More  ;  but  even  that  high  moralist  hardly,  as  yet, 
understood  how  the  work  of  morality  might  best  be  sped.     Even 
ten  years  later  than  the  time  when  Colman's  farces  were  deemed 
not  unfitting  to  be  read  to  an  audience  of  mother  and  children, 
Mrs.  More,  in  "  Caelebs,"  was  recommending  the  observance  of 
modesty  on  the  part  of  ladies,  on  very  selfish  grounds.     In  allusion 


7* 


154 


LITES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


I' 


to  the  "naked  style"  of  dr^ss  which  was  then  the  fashion  ,vi,h 

rf  women  m  genen.1  knew  what  was  their  real  interest ;  if  .hey 
could  guess  with  what  a  charm  even  the  appearance  of   node    y 
nvests  us  possessor,  they  would  dress  deco^usly  from  more  self^ 
ove,f  not  trom  principle.     The  designing  woulja^ume  m^l     y 
as  an  art.flce;  the  coquet  would  adopt  it  as  an  allurement;  ,h^ 
pure  as  her  appropriate  attraction ;   and  the  voluptuous  as  ihe 
most  mfa Ilible  art  of  seduction."     When  the   Kever:::,  .s",n  y 
Smuh  read  tins  passage,  he  remarked  that  if  there  were  any  truth 
m  at,  "nudjty  becomes  a  virtue,  and  no  decent  woman   (br  the 
future  can  be  seen  in  garments."     This  is,  ,H.rhaps,  more  smart 
than  stnct  y  said.     Tl>e  volume  from  which  the  ,..  s  a^e      iaTen 

wnh  Queen  Charlotte,  who  certainly  abhorred  the  style  of  d.^ss 

w  -ch   .s    censured    in    "  Calebs."     When    the    La.ly'   CI  arl    te 

C.mp^  1    amous  for  her  beauty,  and  tor  her  subs^ni..  con,     - 

on  wuh  Queen  Carolme,  iir.t  went  to  court,  she  was  attired  in 

he  scant  costume  of  the  period.     She  was,  in  fact,  in  the  ve  " 

^ghest  of  the  fashion,  and  as   she  ,vas  passing  befor^  Q  ,ee„ 

peSoTr   "  '""'"  ^<^*^--"<l<^<l  >-  *o  "let  o«  a  tuck  ?:Z 

WhUe  on  the  subject  of  fchion,  it  may  here  be  noticed  that 
Jen  the  marr,age  of  the  princess  royal  with  the  head  of  the 
House  of  A  urtemburg  h.ad  been  determined  on,  her  majesty  made 
the  br>da  dress,  and  helped  to  deck  her  daughter  wi.I  it."^  X  ' 
kmgs  eldest  daughter,  she  had  a  right  to  be  attired  in  a  dr  <! 
ot  wh.,e  and  sdver.  The  princess,  however,  was  about  to  mar^  a 
widower,  and  ,t  appear,  that  custom,  consequently,  requir«Uhe 
bnde  to  wear  white  and  gold.     And  so  the  .ibe  w.':  f  J,o„ o , 

etiquette      This  marriage,  however,  did  not  take  place  till  17»7 

In  1,92,  the  prince's  pecuniary  affairs  were  in  a  worse  condi- 
tion than  ever.     Several  executions  had  been  in  his  hou<e  from 
^e  of  which  he  had  been  saved  by  the  benevolence  ot"  Lord 
«awdon.     His  debts  now  amounted  to  400,000/.     The  queen  ad 
vtsed  him  ,0  press  the  king,  tlu^ugh  the  lord  cIuancellor'r«;;  J 


CHARLOTTE   SOPHIA. 


165 


for  an  increase  of  income.  What  the  prince  required  was  100,000/. 
yearly,  and  if  that  were  granted  he  proposed  to  set  aside  35,000/. 
per  annum,  for  the  liquidation  of  his  debts.  lie  had  now  aban- 
doned racing,  a  silly  pursuit  which  had  cost  him  yearly  not  less 
than  30,000/. ;  and  having  done  that,  he  feigned  to  be  shocked  at 
his  equally  embarrassed  brother,  York,  remaining  on  the  turf.  He 
added,  that  if  his  request  was  not  acceded  to,  he  should  shut  up 
Carlton  House,  go  abroad,  and  live  upon  10,000/.  a-year.  It  was 
very  proj)erly  suggested  to  him  that  he  would  do  much  better,  if 
the  queen's  wishes  and  his  own  could  not  be  carried  out,  by  stay- 
ing in  England,  and  showing  the  people  that  he  could  adapt  his 
circumstances  to  liis  revenue.  This  was  a  course,  however,  which 
he  had  never  seriou.sly  detennined  to  follow.  He  was  made  up  of 
contradictions,  and  although  he  was  at  this  period  more  than  ever 
attached  to  Mrs.  Fitzherbert,  it  did  not  prevent  him  from  main- 
taining the  well-known  actress,  Mrs.  Crouch,  in  the  post  of  "  favor- 
ite." Mrs.  Fitzherbert  met  this  course  by  ridiculing  it,  and  by 
coquetting  on  her  side.  This  hurt  the  prince's  vanity,  and  brought 
him  again  under  her  influence.  What  his  homage  was  worth  may 
be  judged  of  by  the  fact  that  it  was  paid  to  many  deities,  and  while 
he  was  maintaining  Mrs.  Crouch,  forgetting  poor  Perdita  Robin- 
son, making  love  to  the  beautiful  Duchess  of  Devonshire  (who 
was  separated  from  her  husband,  but  did  not  on  that  account  in 
the  slightest  degree  regard  the  prince),  he  had  also  opened  an  in- 
tercourse with  Lady  Jersey,  who  was  not  half  such  a  prude  as  the 
duchess,  and  who  was  the  most  shameless  of  those  to  whom  the 
heartless  prince  had  pretended  to  surrender  his  heart.  With 
many  loves,  or  what  were  called  such,  INIrs.  Fitzherbert  continued 
the  favorite  sultana.  He  built  for  her  a  residence  at  Bri<Thton, 
-where  she  kept  up  the  establishment  of  a  queen — really  looked 
like  one,  for  she  was  a  superb  woman — had  as  brilliant  diamonds 
as  Queen  Charlotte  herself,  and  was  greeted  by  all  the  bathing 
women  with  the  respectful  appellation  of  "  Mrs.  Prince." 

But  the  queen  had  soon  to  deplore  another  mi.-alliance.  Her 
son.  Prince  Augustus,  (Sussex.)  when  travelling  in  Italy,  had  be- 
come attached  to  the  Lady  Augusta  Murray,  daughter  of  the  Earl 
of  Dunmore ;  and  after  a  courtship,  during  which  the  prince  wrote 


I 


166 


WVES  OF  THE   Ql'EExs  OF  ENGLAND. 


from  h  ritblV    Th!  ?:r''"'  ""■■''  ^''"^  ^"«-^'«  -Pa-^ed 
ance  still  remains  to  be  n^iced.  ^™""'  °'  """"  '"P""- 


CHAPTER  X. 

LENGTHENING   SHADOWS. 

The  subject  of  the  marriage  of  ilie  Pr;n«„    <•  tc  , 
more  fully  under  our  notice  In  the   ifeofP      ,       '''f  ^"' '*"»« 
Here  it  maybe  mentioned  t  a      eti:r;r  rf"'"""''''- 
of  the  marriage  of  the  Prince  was  fir'  ml!     -'''t '  "  •'"^-"■°» 

incur  such  liabilities  a<'ain      Tl.«  o        •  "^^'^^  •" 

barred  him  from  evL  w '         ,      "'"''"'^  '°  ""^  '""di"""  de- 
relief.  ''  ''^"  ''^'''^■"S  '°  parliament  for  pecuniary 

JshTuid  !::^ytp,rir ":  m  \r  ^"^^"  ^"-'-^  ">-  j^- 

marry  a  Prmcess  of  Mecklenburgh.    It  was  sufficient 


CHARLOTTE  SOPHIA. 


157 


I 


for  the  prince  that  his  mother  had  such  desire  that  he  should  op- 
pose it.  According  to  Lord  Liverpool,  the  intimation  of  the 
prince's  wish  to  marry  was  abruptly  made  to  the  kin*',  who  re- 
ceived the  information  with  a  cheerful  complacency,  and  simply 
required  that  the  lady  chosen  should  be  a  Protestant  and  a  princess. 
Mrs.  Fitzherbert  was  neither. 

The  king  offered  to  send  a  commissioner  to  the  German  courts 
on  the  pleasant  mission  of  reviewing  the  daughters  of  the  sovereign 
dukes  there,  and   reporting  on   their  eligibility.      The   prince's 
choice,  however,  appears  to  have  been  made,  if  that  can  be  called 
choice  which  fixes  on  an  object  utterly  unknown.     He  named  his 
cousin,  the  daughter  of  the  Duke  and  Duchess  of  Brunswick.    Her 
mother  wa.s  Augusta,  sister  of  the  king,  whose  birth  had  taken 
place  at  St.  James's  Palace,  under  circumstances  which  gave  such 
offence  to  Caroline  and  George  II.     The  king  made  no  objection  : 
and,  yet,  he  must  have  known  that  if  the  object  selected  was  pretty, 
she  was  far  less  fair  than  the  lady  of  Mecklenburgh,  whom  Char- 
lotte would  fain  have  had  for  a  daughter-in-law ;  and  that  her  re- 
putation, even  in  Germany,  where  the  best  people  then  construed 
liberally  of  female  conduct,  was  none  of  the  best.    She  was  known 
as  a  bold,  dashing,  careless  girl,  whose  tongue  was  ever  in  advance 
of  reflection ;  who  called  the  coarsest  things  by  the  coarsest  names, 
and  who  only  needed  temptation  and  opportunity  to  fall  into  any 
sin  that  had  a  pleasant  side  to  it.     I  believe  that  she  was  not  worse 
than  many  of  her  oontemporaries  with  whose  doings  fame  was  less 
bu.'^y.     Her  great  defect  was  a  want  of  self-control,  if  that  be  a 
great  defect   compared  with  a  want  of  cleanliness.     But  in  this 
latter  respect,  Caroline's  neglect  was  not  singular.     In  her  young 
days  dirtiness  had  not  yet  quite  gone  out  of  fashion. 

It  is  credibly  asserted  that  the  prince's  present  favorite.  Lady 
Jersey,  led  him  to  select  the  Princess  of  Brunswick  for  his  wife. 
It  was  Lady  Jersey's  object  that  he  should  have  a  legal  consort, 
who  must  draw  him  away  from  his  f  illegal)  wife,  Mrs.  Fitzher- 
bert ;  but  it  was  also  Lady  Jersey's  object  that  the  wife  should  not 
possess  attractions  that  should  prove  more  powerful  than  her  own. 
It  will  suffice  to  record  here  that  the  marriage  took  place  on  the 
8th  of  April,  1 795,  under  unseemly  auspices. 


158 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS    OF  EXGf.AXD. 


)' 
i 


The  behavior  of  the   prince  a.  the  c-..,v„k,„j-  .nuloubtedly  may 
be  .eee.ved  as  confi,-mi„g  ,he  aeeoun.s  of  his  aversion  to  .he  Uide 
He  confessed  to  the  Duke  of  Bedford  (one  of  the  two  unmarric! 

i"  er;,!"  "''ri  'r  *'  '"^  "•-'"'•"^'^^ "-'  •-  •-•  •"•'- 

keep  h,m  from  falling.     The  conduct  of  the  prince  was,  of  course 
vhirh"  l\  ^*''"""-^^'^™»'-*<=  »•  "-■  «!<'«  of  that  o,her  marriage 

'ortnonie       "■",!""^^':'""-'  *•-  «—  "t  »"  a  sen.in.eni 
of  the  ce  emony,  before  "many  coarse  and  indelicate  strictures  on 

^rec.;  irr  ""■'  "^"'"■'"  "■^^'^  '^""•'"■'^-  -'--■'  -  --1 

TnLir    I    V    ','"■'"'*'•  '"  «'-«"7  ^'ociety  in  London."     So  say^ 
^>o.thle,,  woman-mad,  at  leas,,  if  not  bad-a  prince^,  whom  his 

a  martjr  of  virtue,  goes  on  to  say,  and  his  testimony  is  incon 
trovert.ble,  that  the  ill-usage  which  the  Princess  of  Wales  w'T 

tre.,,  Lady  Jersey,  was  notorious,  nnpanlonable,  and  so  utterlv 
d  sgraeetul.  ••  that  persons  of  rank  (afterwards  indebted  to  lltr 
advancement  in  it)  have  plumed  themselves  upon  J^,    „„  rmee 
him  .a,  dinner  a,  my  house  (Holland  House,  Kensin^to";  Ibs^v 
>ng  that  he  was  not  fit  company  for  gentlemen."        "      ''  ' 

As  Lo  Jho;1'''7k^''  "°"''""'^  '"'^"•''^'^■'  «'"'  •^"'l-^'l  n'i^ombly. 
Mrs  F^t  "  ?■"'•  """"^  "'•'  l"-'"^*^'^  reconciliation  with 
Mr^.  Fitzherbert,  nor  his  subsequent  intimacies  with  I  .dv  hI 

ford  and  other,  (although  such  returns  and  change   of  We"  ere' 

To  f  TT""'  '^  ■'™""  ••'"'"^"'^^^  -'•  --™^  of  a  rain  of 
favorites,  fnends,  and  dependents),  ever  softened  his  hatred  Tthe 

tourtitr  lan  up  to  him  (then  George  IVJ  to  nmwUo  him  ^f  *i 
-v.,  which  he  supposed  would  be  wdcome-^,;,;?:  r.he:  It 
Sir  your  greatest  enemy  is  de..d!"_"Is  ,/..,  by  G-d'' wl  t 
royal  husband's  dignified  and  pious  ejacutation.  ' 


CHARLOTTE   SOPHIA. 


159 


"  Many  seeds  of  discontent,"  says  Lord  Holland,  «  were  imper- 
ceptibly sown  during  the  yeiir  1795,  among  the  supporters  of  the 
ministry,  which  time  brought  to  maturity.     Among  these  may  be 
reckoned  the  influence  of  Carlton  House.     The  Prince  of  Wales 
thought  himself  duped  by  Mr.  Pitt,  about  the  payment  of  his  debts 
at  the  time  of  his  marriage.     He  had  been  treated  suj^erciliously,' 
more  than  once,  by  Mr.  Pitt,  and  he  had  never  liked  him,  though 
his  own  dread  of  revolutionary  principles,  quickened  by  a  recent 
(luarrel  with  the  Duke  of  Orleans,  had  rendered  him  eager,  and 
even  vociferous,  for  the  war.     The  last  injury,  real  or  supposed, 
which  he  had  received  from  Mr.  Pitt,  by  the  latter's  acquiescing  in 
devoting,  on  his  marriage,  the  whole  increase  of  his  revenue  to'the 
payment  of  his  debts,  sank  into  his  weak  and  fretful  mind  deeper 
than  usual,  because  he  was  continually  reminded  of  it  by  his  con- 
nection with  a  woman  whom  he  loatlied."     Meanwhile,  the  queen 
maintained  the  long-standing  reputation  of  her  court  with  undimi- 
ni.<hed  strictness.     An  illustration  of  this  strictness  is  afforded  us  by 
an  anecdote  told  of  her  majesty  and  an  English  duchess,  who  was 
aunt  to  a  niece  of  rather  blemi.^lied  reputation,  but  to  which  it  was 
hoi)ed  some  lustre  might  be  restored,  if  she  could  only  be  made  to 
pass  through  a  court  atmo.^phere.     The  duchess,  on  asking  the 
queen  to  receive  her  niece  at  the  drawing-room,  of  course,  insisted 
tl.at  the  young  lady's  fame  had  been  unfairly  attacked,  and  that 
she  trusted  to  her  Majesty's  clemency  and  generosity  to  set  it  fair 
again  with  the  world.    The  queen  remained  silent ;  whereupon  the 
duchess,  previous  to  retiring,  beseechingly  inquired  what  she  might 
be  permitted  to  say  to  her  niece.     "  Tell  her,"  said  Queen  Char- 
lotte, « that  you  did  not  dare  to  make  such  a  request  to  the  queen." 
The  duchess,  who  held  some  post  in  the  royal  household,  felt  that 
such  a  speech  involved  her  own  dismissal. 
^Never  was  the  court  so  unpopular  as  at  this  time.     In  October, 
1795,  the  king,  on  proceeding  to  the  House  of  Lords,  was  not  only 
assailed  by  seditious  cries,  but  was  fired  at  by  some  assassin  among 
the  mob.     On  his  return  from  the  hou.>e,  he  was  pelted  with  stones, 
and,  later  in  the  day,  when  driving  to  the  queen's  house,  in  a 
private  carriage,  without  guards,  the  excited  mob,  with  cries  of 
"  Bread—cheap  bread !"  "  No  war !"  and  "  No  king !"  made  an 


160 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


CHARLOTTE  SOPHIA. 


161 


attempt  to  force  open  the  door  of  the  vehicle  in  which  he  was  rid- 
ing. The  same  spirit  was  shown  in  170G.  On  the  1st  of  February, 
the  king  and  queen  went  to  Drury  Lane,  to  see  ''  The  Fugitive." 
On  their  return,  a  stone  was  thrown  at  the  carriage,  which  passed 
through  one  of  the  glass  panels  and  struck  the  queen  in  the  face. 
Soon  after,  a  female  maniac  was  discovered  in  the  palace,  making 
no  secret  of  sanguinary  designs  against  ^*Mrs.  Guelph,"  her  alleged 
"mother."  Added  to  these  private  vexations,  the  negotiation 
entered  into,  at  the  king's  express  desire,  to  establish  a  peace  with 
France  entirely  failed,  and  the  difficulties  of  the  situation  were 
further  increased  by  Spain  uniting  with  our  other  enemies  against 
us  in  war. 

In  the  month  previous  to  that  last  mentioned,  the  birth  of  the 
Princess  Charlotte,  daughter  of  the  Prince  and  Princess  of  Wales, 
was  speedily  followed  by  the  separation  of  the  parents.  We  may 
cite  here  an  incident  of  the  christening,  as  the  Queen  Charlotte  is 
rather  the  heroine  thereof  than  the  infant  princess. 

Lady  Townshend  held  the  little  princess  at  the  font.  Some  time 
elapsed  before  the  officiating  prelate  took  her  from  Lady  Towns- 
hend, whose  state  of  health,  at  the  time,  was  such  as  to  make  lier 
incapable  of  standing  long,  without  some  peril  to  her  own  future 
hopes.     The  Princess  of  Wales  pitied  her,  and  asked  the  queen, 
in  a  low  voice,  if  she  would  not  command  poor  Lady  Townshend 
to  be  seated.     But  Queen  Charlotte  liked  nothing  so  little  as  an 
interruption  of  established  ceremony;  and,  blowing  the  snuff  from 
her  fingers,  she  exclaimed,  *'  No,  no !  she  may  stand— she  may 
stand!"     The  queen  was  nearly  as  strict,  in  public,  with  her  own 
children.  They,  on  such  occasions,  never  sat  down  in  her  presence, 
unless  commanded  ;  never  spoke,  unless  first  spoken  to ;  and  once,' 
it  is  said,  when  the  queen  was  playing  at  whist,  one  of  the  prin- 
cesses, standing  behind  her  chair,  fell  fast  asleep  from  sheer  fluigue. 
The  domestic  troubles  of  the  queen  were  now,  in  great  part, 
connected  with  the  affairs  of  her  eldest  son  and  her  daughter-in- 
law.     They  will  be  found  alluded  to  in  the  life  of  the   latter. 
Another  marriage,  scarcely  more  promising,  soon  occupied  her 
attention.     The  widowed  Prince  of  Wurtemburg  proposed  for  the 
hand  of  the  princess  royal.     His  first  wife  was  the  dauc^hter  of 


,11 
t 


1 


Augusta,  and  sister  of  the  Caroline  of  Brunswick  for  whom  the 
queen,  her  mother-in-law,  had  such  small  measure  of  affection. 
This  first  marriage  had  been  an  unhappy  one.  The  prince  had 
taken  his  wife  to  Russia,  where  she  is  said  to  have  become  so 
thoroughly  corrupted  as  to  have  shocked  the  unclean  Czarina, 
Catherine,  herself.  From  Russj^  she  never  returned ;  but  how, 
when,  or  where,  she  died,  no  writer  seems  to  be  able  to  state  with 
certainty.  That  she  died  there  in  confinement  cannot  be  doubted ; 
and  yet  her  sister  Caroline  used  to  express  her  belief  that  she  had 
been  seen  in  Italy,  long  after  the  reported  period  of  her  death. 
Queen  Charlotte  had  an  especial  dislike  to  the  projected  match  of 
this  prince  with  her  daughter,  nor  would  the  king  consent  until  he 
had  been  satisfied  that  the  prince  had  not  been  a  cruel  husband  to 
his  first  wife,  and  that  he  had  not  become  a  widower  by  unfair 
means.  What  tlie  nature  of  this  satisfaction  was,  no  one  knows. 
The  interview  took  i>lace  on  the  18th  of  May.  After  a  thirty 
years*  residence  in  Wurtemburg,  during  which  time  that  locality 
was  raised  to  the  rank  of  a  kingdom,  and  the  daughter  of  our  own 
Charlotte  was  visited  more  than  once  by  the  first  Napoleon,  of 
whom  her  husband  was  a  very  active  ally,  Charlotte  Augusta,  the 
''  good  queen-dowager,"  and  a  childless  widow,  visited  England 
once  more,  in  order  to  obtain  medical  relief  for  a  dropsical  com- 
plaint. On  her  voyage  back,  in  worse  health  than  when  she  came 
hither,  the  vessel  had  nearly  perished  in  a  storm.  To  her  terrified 
attendants  she  calmly  remarked,  '*  We  are  as  surely  under  the 
protection  of  God  here  as  upon  the  dryland — be  not  afraid  I " 
She  survived  her  mother  ten  years,  dying  in  October,  1828. 

W^e  have  noticed  that  the  princess  royal  was  married  in  1797. 
Soon  after  she  had  set  out  from  St.  James's,  early  on  a  morning 
in  June,  in  tears,  and  without  a  relation  to  bid  her  adieu,  all 
having  gone  through  that  ceremony  the  night  before,  in  order  to 
be  saved  the  trouble  of  e^rly  rising,  the  mutiny  in  the  navy  broke 
out — a  circumstance  which  hardly  annoyed  the  king  more  than 
the  agitation  for  parliamentary  reform  ;  for  it  was  more  easily 
suppressed.  There  was  some  compensation  for  these  vexations  in 
the  visit  to  Duncan's  victorious  North  Sea  fleet,  and  in  the 
triumphs  of  our  other  naval  squadrons.     The  year  ended  appro- 


162 


LIVES  OF  THK  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


priately  «-i,h  ,l,e  royal  procession  to  S..  Paul'.  ,o  render  fervent 
thanksg,v„,g  for  the  sueco...  of  ti.e  arms  of  En^and 

It  was  early  in  1798,  that  ,l,e  fct  book  ^as  Jterootvned  in 
E  gland  and  .he  queen  was  ,l,o  origin  of  „.is  innova.ioLn  t 
that  ,he  had  any  ulea  of  innovation.  The  fae.s  are  simply  these. 
Ihe  press  had  been  teeming  with  productions  offensive  alike  to 
vtrtue  and  religion.  To  protect  both  was  an  anxious  obje'^ih 
«^e  queen  and  o  both  she  became  the  champion.  She  .rocur  d 
ZZ      ?  rr     """™"  '^'"'"'  (^'^'^'i-'ghausen)  his  "Abstract 

prelate,  well  pleased  to  see  the  State  thus  submissive  or  «u^ 
gesttve  to  .he  Church,  read  the  pamphlet-not  only    Ld    t,  bu^ 
approved  of,  and  translated  it  into  Knglish.     He  clnsed  i    o  bl 

qneen  to  the  b.shop,  ,vas  the  first  volume  that  was  ever  printed  in 

Cha  lotte  shottld  always  be  mentioned  in  honorable  conneciton. 

The  year  1^  was  marked  by  the  Irish  rebellion,  the  national 
subscrtpfon  lor  the  exigencies  of  the  state,  and  for  the  unea!!n  s 
fel  at  court  at  the  standing  .o.as,of  the  Whigs-"  The  sovereignty 
of  the  people!"  That  and  the  following  year  were  M.  yearsLf 
the  volunteer  mania.  The  king  and  queen  were  too  h  ,p  '  ,o 
encourage  tins  sort  of  enthusiasm ;  and,  even  in  their  retirement 
a  ^Veymouth  the  volunteer  reviews  were  among  the  mo!t 
eher.shed  of  their  amusements.     They  hoped  they  "had  reln 

On  he  loth  of  May,  1800,  the  royal  family  attended  Drurv  Lane 
theatre,  after  a  review  in  the  morning.  As  the  king  entered  I 
box,  and  was  m  the  act  of  bowing  to  the  audience,  he  was  fired  ^ 

r;  r.  ^'7"r  ""'  "^'^  '■•'""''"'  »-  -ntering  a  .he 
shot  was  fit-ed;  and  the  king  kept  them  back  with  his  hand.  Is. 

a,  he  sa.d,  '•  .here  migh.  he  another."  After  Ha.field.  the  ass  .s  in 

calm,;!  ""'";  """  "'■"^"  ""■'  "••=  ''"'"  "'"'  ■-  <-"'v  "t 
calmly  down,  and  witnessed  the  whole  representation.  This  -cool- 
ness was  deservedly  admired.     On  the  return  ,o  ,he  palaceul 


CHARLOTTE  SOPHIA. 


163 


king  replied,  to  a  sympathizing  observation  of  the  queen,  "  I  am 
going  to  bed  with  a  contidenee  that  I  shall  sleep  soundly ;  and  my 
prayer  is,  that  the  poor  unliappy  prisoner,  who  aimed  at  my  life, 
may  rest  as  quietly  as  I  aliall." 

The  other  domestic  incidents  in  the  life  of  the  queen  or  king 
are  not  of  sufficient  interest  to  be  worth  the  detail.  We  may 
make  exception  of  one,  however,  which  introduces  us  once  more 
to  the  earnest  and  indefatigable  Lady  Huntingdon. 

Early  in  the  present  century,  we  again  meet  with  this  lady, 
busy  at,  with,  and  in  defiance  of,  courts.  In  her  zeal  as  a  reformer 
of  manners  and  morals,  she  was  bold  without  being  indiscreet; 
and  she  was  never  more  bold  than  when  she  attacked,  courteously 
and  courageously,  no  less  a  personage  than  Dr.  Cornwallis,  Arch- 
bishop of  Canterbury.  This  right  reverend  lord  primate  had 
given  several  grand  routs  at  his  palace.  The  archbi.^hop  was  an 
old-fashioned  man ;  and  what  had  been  tolerated  in  his  father  and 
mother  must  also  be  permitted  to  himself  and  wife,  the  magni- 
ficent 3Irs.  Coniwallis — leader  and  slave  of  ton.  Let  the  world 
have  justice  done  to  it,  the  majority  therein  were  solely  scan- 
dalized at  these  irreverend  proceedings.  But  Lady  Huntingdon 
was  the  only  one  bold  enough  to  give  expression  to  what  she  felt. 
With  the  energy  and  tact  natural  to  such  a  woman,  she  contrived 
to  obtain  the  grant  of  an  audience  with  the  primate  and  his  lady, 
and  thither  she  went,  accompanied  by  the  Marquis  of  Townshend. 

The  priests  of  the  sacred  cities  of  Anahuac  were  not  more 
horror-stricken,  when  Cortez  asked  them  to  burn  their  gods,  than 
the  primate  of  all  England  was,  when  the  good  lady  pressed  upon 
him  sacrifices  which  would  entail  the  necessity  of  spending  very 
dull  evenings.  As  for  Mrs.  COrnwallis,  she  tarred  and  featliered 
Lady  Huntingdon,  that  is,  metaphorically,  by  flinging  missiles 
which  soiled  her  who  flung  them,  and  scattering  light  ridicule, 
which  was  blown  back  upon  the  face  and  reputation  of  the 
scatterer.  Lady  Huntingdon  again  and  again  assaulted  the 
archiepiscopal  fortress,  but  she  was  driven  back  by  repeated  dis- 
cluirges  of  "  Methodist ! "  and  "  Hypocrite  ! " 

She  could  do  nothing  at  Lambeth,  and,  accordingly,  she  turned 
her  face  towards  Kew.     Nor  had  she  long  to  wait  before  Queen 


164 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS   OF  ENGLAND. 


Charlotte  and  her  royal  consort  admitted  her  to  an  interview  to 
which  she  was  conducted  by  Lord  Dartmouth  and  the  Duchess  of 
Ancaster. 

The  sovereigns  listened  to  the  simple  yet  eamest  stoiy.  The 
.  king  was  especially  wai-m  in  expressing  his  indignation,  and  the 
queen  took  her  full  share  in  such  expression.  - 1  had  heard  some- 
thing of  this  before,'  said  George  III,  -but  I  knew  not  if  all  was 
as  bad  as  Lady  Huntingdon  has  detailed  it.  The  archbi.shop  has 
behaved  very  ill  to  the  lady.  I  will  see  if  he  dare  refuse  to  listen 
to  a  kmg."  The  gay  and  orthodox  courtiers  present  began  to  think 
that  the  world  was  at  an  end.  Here  was  the  State  placing  itself 
above  the  Church!  Mentally,  they  no  doubt  denied  the  royal 
supremacy.  '' 

In  an  after-conversation,  the  honest  king  confessed  that  Lady 
Huntmgdon  herself  had  been  painted  to  him  in  very  odd  colors, 
and,  m  admitting  her  to  an  interview,  he  was  partly  influenced  by 
his  curiosity  to  see  whether  she  was  as  strange  a  creature  as  she 
had  been  described  by  her  enemies.     To  his  expressions  of  admi- 
ration for  herself  and  her  work,  the  queen  added  similar  assur- 
ances; and,  could  the  archbishop  have  seen  two  sovereigns  thus 
complimenting  a  -Methodist"  and  a  ''hypocrite,"  no  doubt  the  pri- 
mate  zealous  for  nightly  -drums,"  would  have  burst  into  tear, 
and  have  declared  that  the  sun  of  England  was  set  for  ever '        " 
His  majesty,"  said  Queen  Charlotte,  -  had  complaints 'made 
against  yourself,  in  part,  Lady  Huntingdon,  but  dliefly  against 

ng  that  he  had  empbyed  an  old  joke  in  answer,  and  intimated 
that  these  students  and  ministers  could  not  be  made  bishops  of,  as 
then  they  would  cease  to  annoy  anybody  by  preaching.  It  vas 
objected  that  even  the  Lady  Huntingdon  could  not  be  made  a 
bishop  of,  and  so  the  evil  would  be  as  rife  as  ever.  "I  wish  we 
could,  said  Quee^  Charlotte,  with  a  smile  at  the  idea,  - 1  am  sure 
Hei  ladyship  would  shame  more  than  one  upon  the  bench '" 

The  king  then  conversed  with  Lady  Huntingdon,  chiefly  upon 
old  times  and  persons  of  his  father's  court,  at  which  she  had  for 
awhile  been  a  frequent  visitor.     "We  discussed  a  great  many 


CHARLOTTE   SOPHIA. 


165 


subjects,"  says  the  lady  herself,  in  her  account  of  the  interview 
"  for  the  conversation  lasted  upwards  of  an  hour,  without  intermis- 
sion. The  queen,"  she  adds,  "spoke  a  good  deal,  asked  many 
questions,  and,  before  I  retired,  insisted  on  my  taking  some  refresh- 
ment. On  parting,  I  was  permitted  to  kiss  their  majesties'  hands ; 
and  when  I  returned  my  humble  and  most  grateful  acknowl- 
edgments for  their  very  great  condescension,  their  majesties  im- 
mediately assured  me  they  felt  both  gratified  and  pleased  with 
the  interview,  which  they  were  so  obliging  as  to  wish  might  be 
renewed." 

The  queen  repeatedly  expressed  her  admiration  of  Lady  Hunt- 
ingdon's conduct  on  this  occasion,  one  result  of  which  was  a  strin- 
gent letter,  addressed  by  the  king  to  the  primate.  In  this  royal 
remonstrance  and  reproof,  the  writer  told  the  archbishop  that  he 
held  such  "  levities  and  vain  dissipations  as  utterly  inexpedient,  if 
not  unlawful,  to  pass,  in  a  residence  for  many  centuries  devoted  to 
divine  studies,  religious  retirement,  and  the  extensive  exercise  of 
charity  and  benevolence  .  .  .  where  so  many  have  led  their  lives  in 
such  sanctity  as  has  thrown  lustre  on  the  pure  religion  they  pro- 
fessed and  adorned.  From  the  dissatisfaction,"  adds  the  king, 
"  with  which  you  must  perceive  I  hold  these  improprieties,  not  to 
speak  in  harsher  terms,  and  on  still  more  pious  principles,  I  trust 
that  you  will  suppress  them  immediately,  so  that  I  may  not  have 
occasion  to  show  any  further  marks  of  my  displeasure,  or  to  inter- 
pose in  a  different  manner." 

When  it  was  necessary  to  administer  such  a  reproof  as  this  to 
an  archbishop,  we  may  readily  believe  that  only  a  scurvy  sort  of 
reputation  attached  itself  to  the  clergy  generally.  This  had  been 
the  case  for  many  years.  Speaking  of  Ihe  queen's  drawing-room, 
held  in  January,  1777,  Cumberland,  who  was  present,  says:  "Sir 
George  Warren  had  his  order  snatched  off  his  ribbon,  encircled 
with  diamonds  to  the  value  of  700/.  Foote  was  there  and  lays  it 
upon  the  parsons,  having  secured,  as  he  says,  his  gold  snuff-box  in 
his  waistcoat-pocket  upon  seeing  so  many  black  gowns  in  the 


room 


»> 


Foote's  repiark  was  only  in  jest,  but  it  shows  the  estimation  in 
which  the  clergy  was  held.     They  were  for  the  most  part,  and  yet 


166 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEEXS  OF  EXGLAXD. 


with  some  noble  exceptions,  but  wretched  teachers  both  by  precept 
and  example.     Where  clerical  instruction  was  thus  doubly  defec- 
tive, lay  practice  was  not  of  a  very  pure  character.     Onlv  two  or 
three  years  before  Lady  Huntingdon  waited  on  Queen  Charlotte 
and  the  king  at  Kew,  an  incident  illustrative  of  my  remark  occur- 
red at  one  of  her  majesty's  drawing-rooms.     A  great  crowd  had 
assembled,  and  amid  the  throng— while  the  Prince  of  Wales  was 
conversing  with  the  king— he  felt  a  sudden  pull  made  at  the  hilt 
of  his  sword.     He  looked  down  and  perceived  that  the  diamond- 
guard  of  the  weapon  was  broken  off,  but  it  remained  suspended  by 
a  small  piece  of  wire,  the  elasticity  of  which  had  prevented  it  from 
breaking,  and  so  presen  ed  the  diamond-studded  guard.     No  dis- 
covery was  made  as  to  the  author  of  this  felonious  attempt,  and 
the  prince  did  wisely  in  refusing  to  fix  on  the  gentleman  who  stood 
nearest  to  his  side,  as  the  offender.     Such  attempts  were  common 
enough  in  the  great  gallery   at   Versailles  in  the  time  of  Louis 
XIV.,  and  even  acts  of  greater  felony  than  this— for  not  only 
were  purses  cut  from  the  j^erson— but  on  one  occasion,  after  a 
grand  re-union  in  the  gallery,  the  whole  of  the  costlv  hangin-s 
were  swept  off  the  same  night  by  a  thief,  too  exalted  for  the\in«T 
to  be  willing  to  punish  him  as  h©  deserved.  ° 

In  1801  the  Prince  of  Wales  was  in  full  opposition  against  the 
crown  and  Pitt.     Tlie  opi>osition  had  a  Jacobinical  character,  and 
affected  Jacobinical  opinion  without  any  reserve.     Lord  Malme- 
bury  remarks  of  the  prince  that  even  '•  his  language  in  the  streets 
is  such  as  would  better  become  a  member  of  opposition  than  the 
heir  to  these  kingdoms."     This  conduct  was  followed  at  a  time 
when  the  state  of  the  king's  healtli  began  again  to  cause  some  anx- 
iety.    He  had  contracted  i!  chill  and  severe  cramps  by  remaining 
too  long  in  a  cold  church,  on   February  13th.     We  find  Lord 
Malmesbury  recording  on  February   i7th,  ••  King  got  a  bad  cold. 
Takes  James's  powders.     God  forbid  he  should  be  ill."     And  the 
next  day  he  writes  :  ••  King  better.     Lord   Radnor  saw  him  yes- 
terday raoraing;  and  he  clearly  had  only  a  bad  cold."     One  day 
later,  on  occasion  of  an  audience  of  the  king  being  sought  by  Mr. 
Pelham.  the  same  writer  says :  "  Pelham  came  back  t°o  me  from 
court ;  he  had  seen  and  consulted  the  Duke  of  Portland,  who  ap- 


^ 


CHARLOn'E  SOPHIA. 


167 


proved  h,s  seeing  the  king,  but  said  it  would  not  be  to^dau,  as  the 
kmg  was  unwell,  and  on  such  occasions,  it  was  not  usual  to  disturb 
him  but  on  gi-eat  public  business."     On  the  21st  matters  appeared 
worse.     "  Bad  accounts  from  queen's  house ;  the  answer  at  the 
door  IS,  the  king  is  better;  but  it  is  not  so.     He  took  a  stroncr 
emetic  on  Thursday,  and  was  requested  to  take  another  to-day 
which  he  resisted."     It  would  seem  that  the  progressive  seriou'^ 
ness  of  the  s:^'mptoms  produced  no  corresponding  effects  in  the 
heir-apparent.      On    Sunday,    February    22,    the   diarist    write- 
*-His  majesty  stiU  bilious;  not  getting  better;  apprehensions  of 
gettuig  worse.      Fatal  consequence  of  Pitt's  hasty  resignation. 
Pnncess  Amelia  unwell.    Queen  not  well.    At  Cariton-house  they 
dance  and  sing."     As  the  king  grew  worse,  the  intrigues  of  the 
husband  of  Caroline  became  more  active.     The  recrencv  was  the 
object  of  these  intrigues.     In  the  meantime  the  condition  of  the 
sovereign  grew  daily  more  unsatisfactory.     On  the  29th  of  Febru- 
ary  the  king's  pulse  was  at  130  during  the  night.     -  Thi^  make«  " 
says  Lord  Malmesbury,  *Mn  favor  of  the  mental  derangement,  and 
proves  it  to  be  only  the  effect  of  delirium  in  consequence  of  fever 
but  it  puts  his  life  in  very  great  dan^-er."  ' 

His  mind  had  been  extraordinarily  excited  at  this  period  by  an 
agitation  which  was  being  carried  on  against  the  Church,  and  in 
favor  ot  the  emancipation  of  the  Romanists.    The  king  had  stron<r 
views  of  wliat  he  was  bound  to  by  the  coronation  oath,  and  the 
idea  became  the  rooted  torment  of  his  mind.    *^  The  kinrr  on  Mon 
day,"  writes  Lord  Malmesbury,  -  after  having  remained    many 
hours  without  speaking,  at  last,  towards  the  evening,  came  to  him'- 
self,  and  said,  ^  am  better  now,  but  will  remain  true  to  the 
thurch.      This  leaves  little  doubt  as  to  the  idea  uppermost  in  his 
mmd.    .\nd  the  physicians  do  not  scruple  to  sav  that,  althou-h  his 
majesty  certainly  had  a  bad  cold,  and  would  under  all  circum- 
stances have  been  ill ;  yet,  that  the  hurry  and  vexation  of  all  that 
has  past,  wav  the  cause  of  his  mental  illness,  which,  if  it  had  shown 
itselt  at  all,  would  certainly  not  have  declared  itself  so  violently 
or  been  of  a  nature  to  cause  any  alarm,  had  not  these  events  taken 
place.       They  were  events  which  were  weighing  in  the  mind  of 


1 

J 


168 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


I 


ills  elder  brother  bohavp/i  i.  ♦!  ,   ,    ^p'"ice>>es.     How 

.^luiiici    otnaved  is  thus  record**^  •    «  tk^    t>  • 
Wales,  on  Sunday  the  99nH  ^f  e'  .  ''''^''**^'*  *        The  Prince   of 

"  the  .in,  a.  wi„i./r:rc.h  o^  rir„ro  :r  ^^^^^^ 

coronation  oath  to  his  family  — a.k.H  ,h.  ,  1  ^'  ""^  '"^ 
stood  i,  ?  and  added,  If  I  "Sa'te  u\j,  "''"'"  "''^^  """'""^ 
of   this  country   but   it  fo n    .     I     ■.°° '""'^'' '"«"' ^»^«"^'g° 

king  was  quite  well  enough  ,o  h^vl./.P  ^  ^'*':-^''"'^  ''"'"^  "■« 

dinner.  Q,,  proure  .r.;  „  "^l  '^J"^""  ^^  P"—  at 
could  render  this  improper  in  LyZyZd  if/  'T  °'  ''''^*'' 
fever,  you  have  the  intellectual  derangemen  wil  ,  ""^  ""' 
hopes  of  recover,.  I  fea.  .here  is  soTuch  fl  ' 7 W  riT  " 
■n  .mmment  peril.  The  Duke  of  York  deer^vTff  ,  ,  !  '  " 
out^i^  his  assiduous  attentions  at  th'qtTnt  ^''  '"''  "•°™ 

that,  throughout  the  presenT Cck  1  e^H  ''  """l''  ""'""'  """ 
he  was  at  the  moment  when  in  h  '"'■*'"  ''^*^"  ""  "'  »« 

P«.nounced  b,  Warren  tot!  -X^"  tIT'  '^  '."^  '''"'" 
creased  alarmingly  that  very  ni^h.  On  T  J  ?  ^'"f '  '"''''  '"' 
Lord  Malmesburv  thus  .rmnl,-    i      ,  Tuesday,  March  3rd, 

«.  much  wor.e  la/t  ntht  '^at  l^f  i;/"""'?  ""^  ^^  =  ''  King 
ten  he  fell  into  a  profound  L.^'d'^.:.!''^^'^^^^  "'  ^'"'" 
quite  refreshed  ^d  quite    uLelf     H  '"  '''~"'  ''^  '"'•"" 

thirsty,  and  on  bein^asked  wt.  h  ""  """•"'^'^  ^'"^  he  was 
"lio.ed,  a  glass  of  °coM  water"  TH-"'"'  '°  '""'''  ■''"''•  ' '^ 
him  into  a  perspira.ton  Hei»  f "  '""'  ^"••^"  ''''"•  ^«  P"t 
-n.,  wit^  ,:  feraba^rit^rTX" Xt  '^^ 


CHARLOTTE   SOPHIA. 


169 


crisis  of  his  disorder.     Crowd.s  of  people  round  queen's  house,  and 
their  expressions  of  joy  very  "-reat." 

The  cure,  however,  was  not  yet  complete.  Much  care  was 
required.  The  king  was  disposed  to  talk  on  that  very  subject 
which  had  temporarily  threatened  to  overthrow  his  intellect  And 
his  anxiety  for  the  Church,  joined  to  seeing  and  conversing  with 
two  of  his  daughters,  before  he  was  strong  enough  to  ar-u^e  the 
question  connected  with  one,  or  to  bear  the  pleasant  excitement 
of  mtercourse  whh  his  family,  produced  a  disagreeable,  althou^rh 
not  an  enduring,  relapse.  " 

The  Prince  of  Wales  was  the  most  reluctant  of  his  family  to 
beheve  in  the  recovery  of  his  father,  whom  he  openly  declared  as 
being  more  deranged  than  ever,  although  he  might  possibly  be 
improvmg  in  bodily  health.  He  affected  to  complain  of  bein.- 
kept  m  Ignorance  of  what  was  going  on  at  the  queen's  house ;  bu" 
his  Ignorance  arose  from  the  little  care  he  gave  himself  to  become 
wiser. 

The  recovery,  however,  was  considered  genuine.  The  iUne^s 
Itself  had  been  marked  by  one  circumstance  which  distin-ui*es  it 
trom  that  under  which  the  king  suffered  so  severely  in  1*788  In 
the  earlier  attack  sleep  never  relieved  him.  Not  that  he  did  not 
sleep  well,  but  that  it  did  not  compose  his  nervous  system  He 
would  sleep  indeed,  soundly,  but  aw.ike  from  it,  like  a  giant  refreshed 
by  wine,  more  turbulent  than  ever.  In  the  illness  from  which  he 
hadjust  recovered,  his  sleep  was  healthy  and  refreshing,  and  he 
invariably  woke  from  it.  quiet  and  composed. 

The  first  persons  whom  he  saw  after  his  recovery  were  the 
queen  and  princesses  and  the  Dukes  of  Kent  and   Cumberland. 
10  the  Duke  ol  lork,  whom  he  saw  alone  on  the  7th  of  March, 
he  said,  after  thanking  him  for  his  kindness  to  his  mother  and 
sisters,  '•  I  saw  them  yesterday,  because  I  could  send  f/,em  away 
at  any  time;  but  I  wish  to  see  you  aW,  and  for  a  long  time 
and  therefore   I  put   it  off  till  to-day."     In  inquiring  about  the 
queens  health,  of  the  Duke  of  York,  the  king  expres..ed  ^reat 
solicitude  for  them ;  and  the  duke  acknowledged  that  they  had 
suffered  greatly,  but  added,  that  their  chief  anxiety  was  lest,  now 
m  getting  well  he  should  be  less  careful  about  his  health  than 


170       LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 

prudence  would  warrant.  The  king  confessed  to  having  presumed 
too  much  on  tlie  strength  of  his  constitution,  but  promised  to  be 
less  neglectful  for  the  future.     And  the  conversation  turned  to 
political  atniirs,  to  the  ministry,  to  what  had  been  done  durin-  his 
malady,  and  at  last  to  that  question  of  Komani.t  emancipation, 
M  had  so  skU^en  his  mind,  as  being  connected  with  that  ruin 
of  the  Church  of  England  which  he  thought  must  follow,  and 
^vh.ch  church  he  had  sworn  he  would  protect.     Some  weeks  be- 
fore his  illness  he  had  said  to  the  Duke  of  Portland  that,  -  were 
he  to  agree  to  it,  he  should  betray  his  trust  and  forfeit  his  crown 
that  It  might  bring  the  framers  of  it  to  the  gibbet."     He  was' 
beginning  to  use  language  almost  as  strong,  to  the  Duke  of  York 
at  the  hrst  introduction  between  father  and  son,  after  the  recovery 
ol  the  former.     The  Duke  of  York,  however,  very  judiciously 
stopped  him,  with  the  assurance  that  Pitt  had  abandoned  all  idea 
of  pressing  the  Cathohc  question,  that  therefore  it  were  wi^e   to 
et  the  discussion  of  it  drop  also;  and  that  aU  political  parties  who 
had  behaved  with  great  propriety  during  his  illness,  had  now  but 
one  common  anxiety-that  to  see  him  well  again.     -  I  am  now 
fjmfe  well;  quite  recovered  from  my  ilhiess,'"  remarked  th.  kin., 
to  Mr.  V^  lUis,  on  the  occasion  of  directing  him  to  write  to  Piit° 
"  but  what  has  he  not  to  answer  for  who  has  been  the  cause  of  mv 
havmg  been  Ul  at  aU?"    Pitt  was  much  atiected  by  this  reproach 
and  It  IS  said  to  have  influenced  him  to  surrender  the  question' 
mther  than  press  it  to  the  peril  of  the  king's  health.     Indeed,  the 
kmg  had  so  determinedly  expressed  himself  on  the  subject,  that 
the  Duke  of  Portland  had  declared  that  his  majesty  had  mther 
suffer  martyrdom  than  submit  to  this  measure. 

The  interview  between  the  king  and  the  Duke  of  York  wa> 
followed  by  one  between  the  sovereign  and  the  Prince  of  Wale- 
Lord  Malmesbury  says  of  the  latter,  that  "his  behavior  was* 
nght  mid  proper.  How  unfonunate  that  it  is  not  sincere  .,r 
rather  that  he  has  so  efieminate  a  mind  as  to  counteract  all'his 
omi  good  qualities,  by  having  no  control  over  his  weakne^se-." 

The  queen  continued  in  a  great  state  of  anxiety  touchin-  the 
kings  health,  notwithstanding  his  comj.lete  recovery  liavinAeen 
declared.     He   was   at   times   very  nenous   and   deuressed—at 


CHARLOTTE   SOPHIA. 


171 


others,  still  more  nervous  and  excited.     There  was  less  a  fear  of 
mental  derangement  than  that  his  faculties  might  «ever  recover 
then-  former  tone.     He  occasionally  behaved  strangely  in  public  • 
was  too  familiar  with  the  members  of  the  cabinet  which  succeeded 
that  of  which  Pitt  had  been'at  the  head;  and,  again,  was  too 
readily  and  profoundly  atfected-too  soon  elated  or  cast  down  by 
trifles.    On  Thursday,  March  20,  1801,  Lord  Malmesbury  writes  • 
-  Drawmg-room    to-day    very    crowded.       Queen    lookin-    pale 
1  rincesses  as  if  they  had  been  weeping.     They  insinuate  That  the 
king  ,s  too  ill  for  the  queen  to  appear  in  public,  and  to  censure 
her  for  it.     Dukes  of  York  and  Cumberiand  there.     The  Prince 
of  ^\  ales  was  at  the  drawing-room,  but  behaved  very  rudely  to 
the  queen."   And  yet  just  previously  he  had  made  an  ostentatious 
manifestation  of  his  delicacy.     Lords   Cariisle,  Lansdowne,  and 
iMtzwiIham,  with  Mr.  Fox,  informed  his  royal  highness  that  they 
had  formed  a  coalition,  offered  him  their  services,  and  proposed  to 
hold  a  conference,  at  Cariton  House.     The  prince  is  said  to  have 
pleaded,  in  excuse  for  declining  all  they  offered,  the  state  of  the 
I  king's  health  ;  but  out  of  resi>ect  to  his  sire,  he  said  that  he  should 

I  consider  it  his  duty  to  infonn  .Air.  Adington,  the  minister,  of  the 

.  nature  of  their   proposals.     Tiiis  he  did  ;  and  it  was,    perhaps 

because  he  regretted   the   step   he   had  taken  that  he  behaved 
rudely  to  his  royal  mother  in  her  own  public  drawing-room  ! 

The  king's  condition  still  required  care  and  watchfulne«^<  Thus 
on  ]\Iay  2o,  Dr.  Thomas  Willis  writes  to  Lord  Eldon  :  "  The  general 
impression  yesterday,  from  the  king's  composure  and  qidetne^^ 
was  that  he  was  very  well.  There  was  an  exception  to  this  iJ 
the  Duke  of  Clarence,  who  dined  here.  *He  pitied  the  family 
or  he  saw  something  in  the  king  that  convinced  him  he  must  soon 
be  confined  again.* 

"  This  morning,  I  walked  with  his  majesty,  who  was  in  a  per- 
fectly  composed  and  quiet  state.  He  told  me,  with  great  seemincr 
satisfaction,  that  he  had  had  a  most  charming  night,  *  he  could 
sleep  from  eleven  to  half  after  four,'  when,  alas!  he  had  but  three 
hours'  sleep  in  the  night,  which,  upon  the  whole  was  passed  in  rest- 
lessness—in getting  out  of  bed,  opening  the  shutters,  in  praying 
violently,  and  in  making  such  remarks  as  betray  a  consciousness 


172 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


of  his  own  situation,  but  which  are  evidently  made  for  the  Dumose 
of  eonceahng  it  from  the  queen.     He  fre..,.,e,„.,.  .aHed  out  "C 

wLrTrii  I"' "'"'  ."'^  ""^"^  ^"-"  ^  --<•  -^ 

Z^     1  ^  particulars  to  your  lordship,  I  mu<t  he<.  to 

n  med  to  h,m  ;  for  the  k.ng  has  swoni  he  will  never  forgive  herTf 
ihe  relates  anything  that  passes  in  the  ni-^ht  " 

The    Princess   Elizabeth   subsequentlP  addressed   a  letter   to 

IS  still  in  the  king's  mind,  to  a  dern-ee  that  i<  ,i;  i™    •        J 
unfortunate  situation   of  the  f.,^r..     t/       T?',   '"'''" '''" 
.ueen  eomniand.  me  to  4, ';:'f ,  Jrui:::;:^ a,:  I^u^ 

the  ■  ?\  r  ""  """"'="'  "y  •'■•0'''- comes  inL  the   ool,m 
MnVr  o   dot ..::;  '  ^srrS  "-snotkindXTthl' 

-Und  his  Meas^coLrl'^'trerdTr  P"r™^^^^^^^^^^^ 

She  r"'  "'*'  '  *""  ""'  -'--'-«1  at  mamm"  un  :  iS 
one  took  courao-e    anr]  tnlri  +1.^   i  •         i  ""c<iMiie&s. 

quiet,  he  had  beUe'r  eave  1  ^ruut  "1  .""^  '"""^^  ""^ 
the  princess  seeing  the  eS ^d  he„  ^  he^a"  d  T^T'r  >' 
answered,  '  That  doe<n't  si^ifv      ThT  ,        "■'"'^''  '"= 

child ;  and  I  will  speak  til  r  W  t  T""'"  '''"''"  ''"^^  »■«' 
wing  to  her  preserfou  .>  Yo  ■'^1:'^^'''^,,''"'''^"'°  °^  '"^ 
every  thing  ,/„«,,  <„rf,,,rf„„/,2"  ""  '""  '^^'''"'^ 

-"  "I  czx:a  'Lr-disr:  rirrh^-  -r 

"His  malest'y  stnw T  u''  ''"'"  '°  ^°'"''  Chancellor Eldon : 

His  boT-'m  L  1  f      '""'^'  "'  "'^  P^'"^^"'^^'  »">'  .hows  none 

and  .he'mrne'rTn  Jwerh!"  ""  "'"'"  ""^  ^'-"^^  --^  '"--ei 

in  which  he  IS  now  expending  money  in  various 


CHARLOTTE  SOPHIA. 


173 


ways  which  is  so  unlike  him  when  well,  all  evince  that  he  is  not 
so  right  as  he  should  be.  The  queen,  to  use  her  own  words,  built 
her  tailh  u,K,r.  the  chancellor,  and  doubted  not  of  his  succeeding  in 
everything  with  his  majesty.  "He  failed  in  some,  neverthefess 
He  urgently  requested  the  king  to  allow  Dr.  Robert  Willis  to  re- 
main in  attendance  on  him.  The  king  hated  all  the  AVillises,  and 
l)r.  Robert  not  less  than  any  of  them.  He  concludes  a  note  to 
Lord  tldon  on  the  21st  of  June  by  saying:  .  No  person  that  has 
ever  had  a  nervous  disease  can  bear  to  continue  the  physiciarf 
employed  on  the  occasion.'  This  holds  much  more  so  in  the  call 
mitous  one  which  has  so  long  confined  the  king,  but  of  which  he  is 
now  completely  recovered." 

The  health  of  the  sovereign  prevented  him  from  attending  the 
concert        d  „^her  entertainments  which  he  was  accustomed  to 
honor  with  his  patronage.    He  was,  however,  sufficiently  recovered 
to  enjoy  a  sojourn  at  Weymouth,  and,  on  his  return  to  Kew  to 
nde  over  occasionally  to  visit  the  Princess  of  Wales  at  Blackhclth 
The  daughter  of  the  latter,  the  Princess  Chariotte,  was  now  fou 
years  of  age,  and  the  question  of  her  separation  from  her  mother 
was  a  frequent  subject  of  discussion.     I„  the  meantime,  the  1  ttl 
princess  was  very  often  a  visitor  at  St.  James's  or  W  ndsor    by 
command  of  the  queen,  and,  of  course,  unaccompanied  by' her 

On  the  20th  of  October,  the  king  opened  pariiament  in  person. 
Ihe  pleasant  announcement  was  made  in  the  royal  speech  that  the 
eight  years,  war  bad  come  to  a  conclusion,  /he  gratm  c':!  of 
Ih  public  was,  however,  somewhat  marred  by  finding  that  the 
co,t  of  carrying  it  on  had  doubled  the  national  debt,  and  that  the 
Bupidies  required  for  the  year  amounted  to  forty  millions. 
scrSt'ionTi  l''"'""^  now  repaired  to  Windsor;  and  for  the  de- 

ile  r  '  ''  ^'  ^*"'  ^""^  "♦'  «'"<^''  •'«  ""-^  a  par,.  Lord 
Alalmesbury  was  a  guest  at  the  ca.stle  during  the  2C.I,,  27.1.,  and 

kinl  :'/°'""'''^'--  .  "I  --t  there,"  he  says,  "to  present  t;  the 
I  aw  tlfem  rr,  T  "'  "'  ""^  '^'^'"°"  "'  ">>■  '"'"'-'^  works, 
them  that  and  the  next  evening  at  their  card  party  at  the  lod^e. 


" 


174 


I.IVKS  OF  THK    QUEENS  OP  ENGLAND. 


had  not  seen  hi.  since.,:  en'r/olw^;-  'T  '"•"-■^-     ^ 
Hnce  hh  last  illness      W„  „  y^tobtr,  1800--of  cour.sc,  not 

but  not  older  ,hrLn?f  hi''"        '-"'-•"«- of  an  old  man, 

-her  .ore,  and  r;7aret.:tTZt\"r  ^^     "^  ^'^"^ 
not  look  thinner,  nor  were  .I.er.  „  ,  '  '*■="  '  '""  •"«  <'"' 

in  his  countenanLe  or  J^n  r  "tK^^^"'  ^'^''"r  "-  "^'""'^ 
Somewhat  less  hurried  and  ..„  ^'■*'  '""<^''  «  "*"al— 

ing  the  peon  toTLm       Tddlr/wi'  """  "°  ^•'^'  '^"'- 
and  talk  than  he  used  to  do  whTn  d!  ^  °''  '""'  '"  ''"'''" 

on  public  and  g^ve  o^    ^^l^^Z:;^ ^ ^"^  -''J-'S 
iound  him  very  attentive   and  fi,  U  ?  '""'■>'  ^■''"■^'  '''''^^ 

opmion.  though,  perhaps  not  .K         ^'"^  ^  '"      "'  ""  '°  ""'^  »" 
^    sake  his  own.     He  w^'  'Z.^''  '"'""'  '^  """I"  "  «-'  «'>- 
how  I  continued  to  kcTp  wel  T'"  '°  '"'"'"''■^^-     "«-■  a-*'"^J 

reasons,  that  I  endeavored  tlkrlr  "J  "^'""-  "™°""^»  ""- 
unpleasant  subjects  from  i  12.:^ '"""'f'"*'-  »"«'  "'-i-  all 
said,  "Tisave,Twi<emaxmT„T°  themselves  upon  it,  the  king 
but  how.  at  thisTjicIr  ml  "  ""'  ^  ""'  '^'^^''rm'u.a  to  follow^ 
out  waiting  he  >L    on ly^     C  '"1"™'  "•'    ^""  -"'- 

you  think  so,  and  perhapf  do  no^Ii  V; "    "r'"'     '  "^  -- 
was  unavoidable.     I  was  ibnndn,.   Tk  ^      '  "  "'""'^ '  but  it 

I  have  done.  I  consci:ntt   ^  :  >  T'^^ "'f 
could  not  do  otherwise:  but  h-,,1  T  .       .'  '"'**'  ''^™"*o  I 

better  might  have  been  done' "  '''''™  "'^""""-^  "''^  «'ne, 

and  this  1,:  it:2^z::^^-''f^'^-^'>^^  ^^^ 

He  was  not  one  that  l^lieved  ^0?  •'''''""""""«"•  ""'1  <on.sight. 
it  was  qniet;  and  he  ^U  .Jo  1'"'  T"'  ^'""^  "'"'^'^y  b'™"- 
of  the  k'ing  Who  adoX  ^^T X,' mT '  1' ""  ""^•-  -""• 
-a  mixture  of  atrocity,  .reacherv  It  '"  "'"  '"'*'""*"  "^-^ 


I 


CHARLOTTE  SOPHIA. 


175 


mii>t  be  tired  of  standing  so  long  with  the  king.  Spoke  kindly  of 
my  father  and  my  dear  ehildren.  Princess  Marv  was  all  good 
humor  and  pleasantness  :  her  manners  are  perfect,  and  I  never 
saw  or  conversed  with  any  princess  so  exactly  what  she  ouo^ht  to 
be."  *  *  ^ 


CHAPTER  XI. 

A. 

THE  END  OF  GREATNESS. 

The  utmost  regularity  marked  the  course  of  the  king's  life 
during  the  short  time  which  elapsed  between  his  last  illness  and 
that  of  1804.     It  was  the  period  when  anecdotes  were  being  con- 
stantly told,  and   perhaps  sometimes  made,  of  his  simplicity  and 
gentle  nature.     The  queen,  with  a  great  love  for  display,  could 
reiidily  adapt  herself  to  the  circumstances  required  by  the  exigen- 
cies of  the  time  ;  and  she  as  much  enjoyed  the  quietness  of  their 
domestic  life  as  she  had  done  the  most  brilliant  days  and  episodes 
of  her  reign.     Iler  eldest  son,  who,  in  spite  of  his  conduct,  loved 
his  mother  as  well  as  he  could  love  anybody,  caused  her  continual 
anxiety;  but  this  w^-is  little  compared  with  the  trials  which  awaited 
her  fr-om  another  source.     The  be.<t  insight  within  the  precincts  of 
the  court  is  afforded  us  by  Lord  3Ialmesbury,  by  whose  authority 
we  will  once  more  be  guided. 

The  mental  maladies  of  the  king  usually  occurred  after  taking 
cold ;  but  this  fact  did  not  seem  to  have  rendered  him  in  any  way 
cautious  and  prudent.  Thus,  early  in  the  present  year  he  caught 
a  violent  cold  followed  by  gout,  in  consequence  of  remaining  in  wet 
cloth.'s  after  returning  from  a  walk  in  the  rain.  The  malady 
speedily  assumed  the  appearance  of  something  more  formidable 
than  a  mere  attack  on  his  bodily  healtli.  At  the  evening  assembly 
at  the  queen's  house,  held  in  ceiebralion  of  her  majesty's°birth-day, 
the  king  was  unu>ually  incoherent  in  his  style  of  speaking.  The 
queen  played  at  cards  as   wa^  hor  custom;  but  her  anxiety  was 


li 


176 


iiJJ^    (^LLt.NS   OF   ENGLAND. 


persons  accustomed  ,o  L.e Tec  .V  ""  ""^  '"'^"''''^  "^ 

'he  Willises  (fa,her  and  1^  l"'  '"'''•     '^'"=  "'^'J  '"^'ike  ,o 

'Jl  May,_fa„cifu,,  suspicious,  and  uns  c  dv      1  '•■'""'"'"' 

conversation,  particul-.ilv  «l,l  ,i  "'^'"'■'^  '"  '"^  manners  and 

usual  societ;     '.He    va-    '  T''"  "'"^  "•^■'"  '"'"""^  '^d  '"^ 

Maln,esbur/",vl"    ,  lL!T'r"''  ''"'^  ''''"^^■"''"  ^""^'^  ^ord 
.hen  collect^e^  and^l      r,^:;-^  %  '^  ^'-r.    U. 

means  so  cmcient  a  man  in  the"    L  a^'  S^T^^  ""  '>'.  "° 
whom  the  monarch  liad  tik^n  „        .   ,  "iH'ses,  against 

first  illness,  as  Wi, lij  th'  c,er™  ""'''""'^■-  '"  ""^^  •^"'"'^ 
vf  .he  patient,  the  l.;,e:  ^'^'^^  ;«  "-  --  'o 
ashamed  of  himself  for  e v,.rni  •  "  ,  "  "^ '  •*  clergyman,  was  not 
hinted  that  the  Sa  viol. Tt"  '"'"'  "  ^"''^''''>"-     "■""■^  gently 

.-.a..he^;--r;issns;rt>"- ^^^ 

Lord  Malmesbury  thns  writes  —  ^^""^  -''"''  l^***' 

.gued  h,  heing  too  much  talked  to  on  the  Z'^l^^Z".  "' 

»hered.     He  had  iJZL^'l^::i2i':Vr ''""'' ^''^ 
(Brown),  who  had  served  him  durini  ,  ^'''°"''  P^S" 

attention.  Quie.  and  repo  eTv«.  f  !"  "'"""  "'"'  ""  ^'••^'"-' 
chancellor  was  to  go  to  Wndlr  '  1.  ^'  '""'*•  ''^'"=  ^"'<J  "'« 
King  has  stipulated  W  tl:;* '"™'  ■  ''■''  t''  ^""^  ^""^  ''^• 
^  .0  ehapel,  nor  on  the  -race:  ^  Taul  t  g'^ 'T;;^! 


CHARLOTTE  SOPHIA. 


177 


bridge  thinks  Dr.  Rymonds  an  unfit  man  ;  that  the  Willise<^  and 
particularly  the  clergyman  Willis,  was  a  much  properer  person  to 
be  about  the  king  when  he  was  getting  well;  so  thinks  IMrs.  Har- 
court." 

The  following  day  we  find  the  Mowing  entry  in  the  Diary  •— 
"  Sunday,  May  27.     Mrs.  Harcourt  confirms  all  that  Lady  Ux- 
bridge  had  told  me ;  that  the  king  was  apparently  quite  well  when 
speaking  to  his  ministers,  or  tho.<e  who  kept  him  a  little  in  awe  • 
but  that  towards  his  family  and  dependents  his  language  was  inco- 
herent and  harsh ;  quite  unlike  his  usual  character.     She  said  that 
Symonds  did  not  possess  in  any  degree  the  talents  required  to  lead 
the  mmd  from  wandering  to  steadiness ;  that  in  the  king's  two 
former  illnesses,  this  had  been  most  ably  managed  by  the  Willises 
who  had  this  faculty  in  a  wonderful  degree,  and  were  men  of  the 
world,  who  saw  ministers,  and  knew  what  the  king  out^ht  to  do- 
that  the  not  suffering  them  to  be  called  in  was  an  unpardonable 
proof  of  folly  (not  to  say  worse)  in  Addington  ;  and  that  now  it 
was  impossible,  since  the  king's  aversion   was  rooted ;  that  Pitt 
judged  ill  in  leaving  the  sole  disposal  of  the  household  to  the  kin-; 
that  this  sort  of  power  in  his  present  weak  (and,  of  course,  suspi- 
cious) state  of  mind  had  been  exercised  by  him  most  improperly  • 
he  had  dismissed,  and  turned  away,  and  made  capricious  chan-es 
everywhere,  from  the  lord-chamberlain  to  the  groom  and  footman  • 
he  had  turned  away  the  queen's  favorite  coachman;  made  footmen 
grooms,  and  vice  versa,  and  what  was  still  worse,  because  more 
notorious,  had  removed  lords  of  the  bedchamber  without  a  shadow 
of  reason ;  that  all  this  afflicted  the  royal  family  without  measure  • 
that  the  queen  was  ill  and  cross;  the  princesses  low,  depre^^ed' 
and  quite  sinking  under  it ;  and  that  unless  means  could  be  found 
to  place  some  very  strong-minded  and  temperate  persons  about 
the  king,  he  would  either  commit  some  extravagance,  or  he  would, 
Dy  violent  carelessness  and  exercise,  injure  his  health,  and  brinrr  on 
a  deadly  illness.     I  asked  where  such  a  man  did  exist,  or  had^ex- 
isted.     She  said,  none  she  knew  of;  that  Smart,  when  alive   had 
some  authority  over  him ;  that  John  Willis,  the  clergyman,'  also 
had  acquired  it,  but  in  a  very  different  way ;  the  first  obtained  it 
from  regard  and  high  opinion,  the  other  from  fear ;  that,  as  was 

8* 


178 


UVES  OF  THE  QUEEXS  OP  KNGLAXD. 


ve.7  acute  that  nothing  e.cl«    k-      "".'  ''"  ''"*  ''^<^'""«  *" 

coital  by  great  reco."„e„Zl  'oT,  ''"•  ""'•^•""^  '■""^'J  '- 
"■e  whether  I  would  or  wouM  not  i  T"'^'  ""''  """""""«  "  '<> 
her  if  the  chancellor  knew  h      Sh    I    f  "„'"  '''■   ^^''^     ^  «^'ked 
Who  can  in  .„  degree  control  thel.W  •'  t'    H  "  I"^  """^  '•^•'•■-'• 
hie,  and  when  he  is  near  thin  J  „       °  '        "  "'"  '''■'*  ">'"'  I'os.^i- 
Mr.  Pit,  „.„,  t„,,  itTa,uf  iKr  •"■"•     '  "'•''  '"  """  ^-^ 
^  'emedj. ;  „„d  ,hat  if  he  d  d  n^  j'!"  "'  """'•••  "' ''« '"'"H  appl/ 
'     what  to  do  ;  and  that  the  heari"  .' !,   "t '""'""'  ''«  ««•'  «'  » "o.! 
would  be  useless  to  hiu,  ZTm.  ^T        "'""^  '""^  '■™''  ">« 
part.     After  her,  Lord    >embrol  "  ■''"   ""°  '"""''""  ""  ""7 

me  whether  I  was  aware  o'wht  'r'  "•'"  ""'  '"'"""'  -"'  -"-^J 
and  he  then  repeated,  bu,  Vn  a  .,  ,rT  ''""'"=  "'"'e  queen V  ho.,se; 
ditional  cire„,„'tance;,  w  J  j  ^  'J'''  """"'""•'  •""'  «'th  ad- 
dwelt  on  the  ver,  seri  JT  /u^t^t'!  "-"'•     ^V'c  then  bo.h 

fo"ows  :-.<  "Crl  «:.;;:«  ^o  ^'"•''  ^^^-"■-'"■^  -onlin.a. 
the  queen-s  house,  gave  met;  1  ^     T  '"  '"'  '"  ""^  «^<^'""g  (r^m 
He  had  seen  himVlTnd  r^r  "'■'''•^  ••*'™""'»'-'he  kin" 
looks,  manner,  conduct," ndlt"  '7  '""''  """  ""«'  ''«=  was,  i"; 
he  had  been  since  his  ill„:;~  ji'ff  '  '""■   f^""' ''"'"  "'"-' 
was  at  Windsor;  and  GeneAd  IHrcofn  "'.'  '      ''  ''■"'"  "'""  ''« 
"T'  '•'•""^  -^-ned  to  think  mos   W   i;'';,, '■'  ""'  »  -"S-ine 

Some  of  the  king's  acts  smacked  ^^i'^^;'  '1'"  '''"«•" 
^'tytUan  anj-thing  wo..e.     Thus  e," v  i ,  .  "     ™"~"-^  ^'^•'•"""•'■- 
■Pelham  eanicd  his  seals  of  office t  L  """"''  "■'"^"  ^'O'-'' 

hem  up  to  the  king,  the  latter  sad^Be,^""""/  '"""  '"  ''•"-• 
empt^  ^«„,.  bands,  .-ou  must  .m2'n.U^1r  / ,  ^  »""»•  3on  to 
"Pon  hun  the  stici-  of  captain  of  ,h  "^  'herewith  he  ,l„,,st 

Peiham  looked  as  much'      Hfid  ^  H"""  "'  ""-'  ^'"'•^'•-     ^o- 
''"■ght  him,  and  the  poor  sover.  L  r         i-  """^'"'^  '""^  °«*^^«J  'o 


I 


1' 


OHARr,OTTE  SOPHIA. 


179 


the  unwelcome  stick.  There  was  something  additionally  comical 
m  the  circumstance,  in  this:  Pitt  was  hurt  at  his  majesty  thinkin- 
of  conferring  an  office  without  previous  communication  with  /dm"- 
and  Pelham  was  hurt  at  Pitt's  having  entrapped  him,  as  he  sup- 
posed, mto  the  not  very  exahed  offie  of  captain  of  the  yeoman 

The  poor  monarch  had,  in  reality,  enough  provocation  at  home, 
to  say  nothing  of  the  anxieties  caused  him  by  the  aspect  of  ibrci<m 
aftairs,  to  render  irritable,  if  not  to  throw  off  its  balance,  a  mind  so 
unhu.ged  mid  ill  at  ea.<e  as  his  own.     I,  wiu.  at  this  peiio<l  that  a 
contest  was  going  on  between  him  and  the  Prince  of  Wales  rela- 
tive  to  the  residence  and  education  of  the  Princess  Charlotte. '  The 
monarch,  with  much  reason,  wished  her  to  reside  at  Windsor,  there 
to  be  educated  in  the  character  of  "a  queen  that  is  to  be."     The 
prince  opposed  the  proj-ositioii,  for  the  opposition's  sake,  bein-  also 
moved  thereto  by  advisers  who  belonged  to  the  party  in  ^rlia- 
meiit  adverse  to  the  crown.     It  was  very  much  feared  that  if  his 
wishes  were  seriously  disregarded,  the  consequences  to  his  health 
would  be  serious.     The  prince  himself  hardly  knew  his  own  mind 
and  perhaps  had  no  well-gi-ounded  opinion  u,>on  the  matter  at  all! 
"1  be  two  factions,"  says  Lord  JL-ilmesbury,  "  pulled  different 
ways.     Ladies  Moira,  Hutchinson,  and  Mrs.  Fitzherbert,  were  for 
Ills  ceding  the  child  to  the  king ;  the  Duke  of  Clarence  and  Devou- 
shire  House  most  violent  against  it ;  and  the  prince  was  inclined 
to  the  faction  he  saw  Ia..t.     In  the  Devonshire  House  cabal,  La^Iy 
Melbourne  and  Mrs.  Fox  act  conspicuous  parts,  so  tlmt  the  alter- 
imlive  for  our  future  queen  seems  to  be,  whether  Mrs.  rox  or  Mrs. 
J!tt2herbert  shall  have  the  ascendency." 

Father  and  son  had  uu  interview.  After  a  whole  year's  estrange- 
ment, for  one  day  child  and  parent  agreed  tolerably  well;  but  tirey 
did  not  long  continue  to  be  of  one  mind.  The  conduct  of  the  princo 
was  insulting  to  the  authority  of  the  king,  and  to  his  ofHce  aa 
tathei%  lo  some  extremely  sensible  remarks  on  the  educational 
plan  best  calculated  to  promote  the  welfare  and  happiness  of  ll... 
princess,  her  father,  the  Prince  of  Wales,  returned  an  answer  .o 
improperly  worded,  that  the  chancellor  declined  to  present  it  to 
ne  king.  The  latter  was  made  irritable  and  ill  at  no  answer 
living  reached  him  from  the  prince,  and  he  was  only  beguiled 


180 


"VES  OF  THE  guEEXS  OF  EXGLAND. 


cterSriU^  tt;  Z^^  '^^'  ">«  P"--  had  ..eo„- 
The  queen  was  renderorl  rv,^  •  ^^  expected. 

that  "the  sons  beh;ve  oZbfyL':''''^  """'''^  '"--•^^ 
At  this  .i.ne  the  queen,  wi^ ^^  ^  ~-  «-'  l-H-ec.,,." 
some  strangeness  of  eonU»ot     "  ShZ  •  ■^'"^'  "''"^"«<' 

says  the  noble  diarist  from  «l,„  V    "*'''""  ''^""''^  "'e  king," 

one  of  the  princesses       r,::  "LT  k^"*  """''''''  "  -"-" 
si'enee,  and,  when  in  London   I,  l'  ^T'l^"'''^^''"  ""-^  <li.^creet 

(her  W.»  against  htrxLeth^ltlr,;  "'  "^-  -'"'^  '"'""» 
ttore  than  all  the  other  of  Mr     H  f     '  ''•"''"  "'"""-'  ""« 

queen  did  not  think  the  kin!  iikel  It  ''"™' '  '""^  ''"  'he 
in  her  n.anners  towards  him  •  InlVe,  7  '"'  f "  "•°"'''  "«'  ""« 
P---.  that  she  t,,inks  he  Za^TlJZ  ■'"''"'  ""^"'^  '"^'-  "'— 

If  the  royal  invalid  thus  met  with"   „„  . 
even  of  his  eoasort,  whose  fe  "s  mlrf\         T"''"'^  "'  "'«  ^ands 
less  at  the  hands  ^f  some  of  hi  ""''''"''  '"^  '•'^^'•*"  ''^  -'<"! 

Addmgton,  Lord  Sidmou.h,  broke  Xl  t't      T  ""'""''''  "''^'» 
k>ng  to  surrender  the  key  of  .1..        \,  '"'  ^'^  '"epaired  to  the 
dent  of  the  eouneil),  the  L^^      /  r'"       '^  ^^  ""^  ''"-'"  P-- 
must  not  give  it  to  me,  but  t^     „  ,         ?"""'"''  ""?"':>''  "  Vou 
statesman    exeused  hile  ■  on  ?,     "'''"''^■f  "0-"     The  retiring 
Hawkesbury  were  not  o     peaTin'  e  '"""""'   ""•"   '"^   ''"'   ^-'^ 
enough  rejoined,  that  ,/,„.  ^    "0°;.  "f  T'll '""'''''  ^-'X 
"pon  have  ended  .he  audienee  but  A     •  "     "'  """"  "-ere- 

an.i  at  hint  f.r  .an  hour,  T lo  fett  at;  Pr'  '«"<<"  «" 
when  the  ki„g  retu^ed  to  his  famiW  rf.  ""'"'  '"'"'  """ 
sor)  he  said,  "That hrbZ  ^/       '''"'  ^"'"'''^  »'  ^^'h.d- 

-   soon  after   this   oeeurrrnee   t  .at  l^:"' T  '"'''■"""•"    ^' 
broken  .,p  by  the  death  of  the  <.rea  l!l         °   '"ln""'*tration  was 

and  Fox  ean.e  in  as  ehierof-  he  f  ''";''"'' ^""^  ^'•^'"^"'e 
The  Prinee  of  Wales  trtlj  "iT  "'  "^"  '"■  '''''^^"^^■" 
and  unbeeomingly  with  ther^  verinri^'.r?  T  "'^"'•"■'^ 
offices  and  places  for  his  dependanr?^  h,»  d.gmty  by  soliciting 
•he  "size  of  a  common  partySder?"  '  '""'"''"^  '""■^^'^  '» 


CHARLOTTE   SOPHIA. 


181 


We  may  add  here  that  the  king  himself  occasionally  committed 
errors  that  must  have  considerably  annoyed  those  of  his  family  and 
cabinet  who  entertained  more  correct  views  and  opinions.     Thus, 
it  is  pretty  well  known  that  George  III.  was  very  reluctant  to  ad- 
mit Sir  Arthur  Wellesley  fo  act  as  commander-in-chief.      It  is 
mentioned  by  Lord  Holland,  in  his  '*  Memoirs  of  the  Whig  Party," 
that  Nelson  himself  was  looked  coldly  upon  at  court,  even  when  he 
made  his  first  appearance  there  after  the  glorious  victory  of  the 
Nile.     Incompetent  and  unsuccessful  officers  were  there  conversed 
with,  while  scarcely  a  word  of  recognition  wa,s  vouchsafed  to  the 
diminutive  conqueror.     He  had  doubly  offended.     His  connection 
with  Lady  Hamilton  was  an  offence  to  both  king  and  queen.     He 
had  besides  accepted  an  "order"  from  the  King  of  Naples,  with- 
out first  asking  permission.     He  had  been  told  not  to  wear  it  above 
the  order  of  the  Bath,  but  his  reply  was  that  the  latter  order  was 
in  its  right  place ;  and  as  the  King  of  Naples  had  affixed  his  o\vti 
on  the  spot  which  it  then  occupied  on  the  admiral's  coat,  he  would 
let  it  remain  where  the  Neapolitan  king  had  graciously  conde- 
scended to  put  it.     This  independent  line  of  conduct  was  not 
likely  to  gain  favor  either  with  the  king  or  queen ;  and  though 
they  submitted  to  have  victories  gained  for  them  by  his  head  and 
hand,  they  had  very  little  esteem  for  him  who  won  their  battles. 
The  king  is  known  to  have  been  very  averse  to  the  public  funeral 
with  which  honor,  poor  enough,  was  done  to  the  remains  of  the 
hero.     He  was,  nevertheless,  senshive  touching  the  honor  of  the 
country,  and  tierce  in  his  remarks  against  the  public  men  who 
seemed  to  disregard  it.     His  invective  would  have  been  terrible 
against  such  men  as  Earl  Grey,  Gladstone,  Graham,  Cobden,  and 
others,  whose  sympathies,  if  we  may  judge  from  their  speeches,  is 
i-ather  with  the  Muscovite,  than  with  the  heroic  bands  of  England 
and  France.     God  hel[)  our  country,  if  she  should  ever  fall  so  low, 
as  to  have  her  honor  and  welfare  entrusted  to  such  keeping !     But, 
to  return  to  our  record. 

The  remaining  years  of  the  king's  life  were  years  of  gradual 
decay  on  his  part,  and  of  watchfulness  over  him  on  the  part  of  the 
queen.  Apart  from  state  occasions,  the  royal  couple  lived  in  a 
retired  manner,  but  with  nil  the  elegancies  of  refinement  around 


182 


LIVES   OF  THE    QUEENS  OF   ENGLAND. 


CHARLOITE  SOPHIA. 


183 


them.  The  minute  details  of  such  a  life  would  not  be  interesting. 
The  most  marked  incident  of  1805  was  the  visit  of  the  Princess  ol' 
Wal©s,  with  the  Princess  Charlotte,  to  AVindsor  Castle,  where  the 
queen  paid  her  daughter-in-law  less  attention  than  the  king,  who 
treated  her  with  a  distinction  that  was  offensive  alike  to  queen  and 
prince.  With  something  of  like  distaste  the  queen  acquiesced  in 
the  king's  wish  to  make  a  permanent  residence  of  Windsor,  tor 
which  purpose  nearly  the  whole  of  the  splendid  library  was  re- 
moved from  the  queen's  house  to  the  castle. 

The  king,  however,  still  enjoyed  all  occasions  on  which  he  could 
display  any  magnificence.  The  retirement  was  rather  a  sanitary 
than  a  voluntarily  adopted  measure ;  and  exciting  scenes  injured 
him  and  alarmed  his  consort.  Thus,  at  the  gorgeous  installation 
of  the  Knights  of  the  Order  of  the  Garter,  on  8t.  George's  day, 
1805,  his  conduct  was  marked  by  the  petulant  vivacity  of  a  boy, 
rather  than  by  the  gravity  of  a  monarch  who  had  occui)ie(l  the 
throne  for  nearly  a  quarter  of  a  century.  The  (pieen  witnessed 
it  witli  amazement.  lie  was  ostentatiously  patronizing  with  the 
Princess  of  Wales;  joking  with  some  of  the  lords,  solemnly  trifling 
with  others ;  and  spoke  of  the  spectacle  with  the  sentiment  of  a 
stage-manager,  who  had  '^got  up"  a  showy  piece  with  unqualified 
success. 

The  following  picture  of  the  "economy  of  the  royal  family  at 
Windsor,"  at  this  time,  is  quoted  as  interesting  from  its  faithful- 
ness, showing  the  position  of  the  queen  in  her  household,  and  being 
generally  '^  gernuuie  to  the  matter." 

"  Our  sovereign's  sight  is  so  much  improved  since  last  spring, 
that  he  can  now  clearly  distinguish  objects  at  the  extent  of  twenty 
yards.  The  king,  in  consequence  of  this  favorable  cliange,  lias  dis- 
continued the  use  of  the  large  flapped  hat  which  he  usually  wore, 
and  likewise  the  silk  shade. 

"  His  majesty's  mode  of  living  is  now  not  quite  so  abstemious. 
He  now  sleeps  on  the  north  side  of  the  castle  next  tho  terrace,  in 
a  roomy  apartment,  not  carpeted,  on  the  ground-floor.  The  room 
is  neatly  furnished,  i)artly  in  a  modern  style,  under  the  tasteful 
direction  of  the  Princess  Elizabeth.     The  king's  private  dining- 


room,  and  the  apartments  en  suite,  appropriated  to  his  majesty's 
use,  are  all  on  the  same  side  of  the  castle. 

"The  queen  and  the  princesses  occupy  the  eastern  wing. 
When  the  king  rises,  which  is  generally  about  half-past  seven 
o'clock,  he  proceeds  immediately  to  the  queen's  saloon,  where  his 
majesty  is  met  by  one  of  the  princesses — generally  either  Augusta, 
Sophia,  or  Amelia ;  for  each  in  turn  attend  their  revered  parent. 
From  thence,  the  sovereign  and  his  daughter,  attended  by  the  lady 
in  waiting,  proceed  to  the  chapel  in  the  castle,  where  divine  service 
is  performed  by  the  dean,  or  sub-dean ;  the  ceremony  occupies 
about  an  hour.  Thus  the  time  passes  until  nine  o'clock,  when  the 
king,  instead  of  proceeding  to  his  own  apartment  and  breakfasting 
alone,  now  takes  that  meal  with  the  queen  and  the  five  princesses. 
The  table  is  always  set  out  in  the  queen's  noble  breakfast-room, 
which  has  been  recently  decorated  with  very  elegant  modern  hang- 
ings ;  and  since  the  late  im{)rovement  by  Mr.  Wyatt,  commands  a 
most  delightful  and  extensive  prospect  of  the  Little  Park.  The 
breakfast  does  not  occupy  half  an  hour.  The  king  and  queen  sit 
at  the  head  of  the  table,  and  the  princesses  according  to  seniority. 
Etiquette  in  every  other  respect  is  strictly  adhered  to.  On  enter- 
ing the  room,  the  usual  forms  are  observed,  agreeably  to  rank. 

"  After  breakfast  the  king  generally  rides  out,  attended  by  his 
eciuerries ;  three  of  the  princesses,  namely,  Augusta,  Sophia,  and 
Amt'lia,  are  usually  of  the  party.  Instead  of  only  walking  his 
horse,  his  majesty  now  generally  proceeds  at  a  good  round  trot. 
AVhen  the  weather  is  unfavorable,  the  king  retires  to  his  favorite 
sitting-room,  and  sends  for  Generals  Fitzroy  or  Manners,  to  play 
at  chess  with  him.  His  majesty,  who  knows  the  game  well,  is 
highly  pleased  when  he  beats  the  former,  that  gentleman  being  an 
excellent  player.  The  king  dines  regularly  at  two  o'clock ;  the 
(pieen  and  princesses  at  four.  His  majesty  visits,  and  takes  a  glass 
of  wine  and  water  with  them  at  five.  After  this  period,  public 
business  is  frequently  transacted  by  the  king  in  his  own  study, 
where  he  is  attended  by  his  i)rivate  secretary.  Colonel  Taylor. 
The  evening  is,  as  usual,  passed  at  cards  in  the  king's  drawing- 
room,  where  three  tables  are  set  out  To  these  j^artics,  many  of 
the  principal  nobility  residing  in  the  neighborhood  are  invited. 


184 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


CHARLOTTE  SOPHIA. 


185 


When  the  castle  clock  strikes  ten,  the  visitors  retire.  The  supper 
is  set  out,  but  that  is  merely  a  matter  of  form,  and  of  which  none 
of  the  family  partake.  These  illustrious  personages  retire  to  rest 
for  the  night  at  eleven  o'clock.  The  journal  of  one  day  is  the  his- 
tory of  a  whole  year."  The  history  is  not  a  lively  one,  perhaps, 
but  it  shows  agreeably  the  domestic  simplicity  of  the  court.  He 
who  was  at  the  head  of  the  latter  did  not  want  for  a  certain  reli- 
gious heroism  under  affliction.  On  his  growing  blindness  being 
compassionately  alluded  to  by  some  one,  in  his  hearing,  the  king 
remarked — "  I  am  (juite  resigned,  for  what  have  we  in  this  world 
to  do  but  to  sufJer  and  perform  the  will  of  the  Almighty."  He 
was  resigned,  however,  partly  because  he  was  not  yet  deprived  of 
hope.  Three  years  later,  in  1809,  the  jubilee  year  of  his  reign, 
he  was  unable  to  attend  the  grand  fete  given  by  Queen  Charlotte 
at  Frogmore,  in  honor  of  the  event ;  and  though  he  rode  out,  his 
horse  was  now  led  by  a  servant.  On  foot,  he  felt  his  way  along 
the  terrace  by  the  help  of  a  stick.  Stricken  with  such  an  infliction 
as  rapidly  advancing  blindness,  his  predilection  for  the  '*  Total 
Eclipse"  of  Handel  was,  at  least,  singular.  It  affected  him  to 
tears,  and  the  queen  could  not  listen  to  the  peHbrmance  of  this 
composition  without  being  similarly  affected.  And  yet  the  king 
himself  seemed  mournfully  attached  to  both  the  music  and  the 
words.  One  morning,  we  are  told,  the  queen,  or  the  Prince  of 
Wales — for  each  has  been  mentioned — but  probably  the  former, 
on  entering  the  king's  apartment,  found  him  pathetically  reciting 
the  well-known  lines  from  ^lilton — 

Oh  dark  !  dark  !  dark  !  amid  the  blaze  of  noon 

Irrevocably  dark  I     Total  eclipse 

AVithout  all  hope  of  day  I 

Oh  first  created  beam,  and  thou  great  word, 

Let  there  be  light,  and  light  was  over  all ; 

Why  am  I  thus  deprived  thy  prime  decree ! 

Indeed,  although  a  royal,  it  was  a  troubled  household.  Circum- 
stances in  the  lives  of  two  of  the  sons  of  the  king — York  and  Cum- 
berland— caused  him  great  anxiety  ;  but  the  death  of  his  youngest, 
and  perhaps  best-loved  daughter,  Amelia,  in  1810,  finished  the 


ravage  which  care  and  other  causes  had  inflicted  on  his  intellect. 
Walcheren  and  Amelia  were  said  to  be  ever  in  his  thoughts,  as 
long,  at  least,  as  he  had  the  power  to  think,  and  the  privilege  to 
weep.  The  idea  of  the  loss  of  his  royal  authority,  too,  pressed 
heavily  upon  him.  The  tim^  came,  in  1811,  when  such  depriva- 
tion was  necessary,  and  that  year  commenced  the  unbroken  period 
of  what  may  be  termed  his  gentle  insanity. 

Wlien  the  unquestionable  presence  of  this  calamity  necessarily 
introduced  into  parliament  the  regency  question,  Scott  (Eldon) 
made  one  of  the  most  extraordinary  assertions  that  parliament  was 
ever  called  upon  to  listen  to.  He  affirmed  that,  when  the  king 
was  incapable,  the  sovereignty,  for  the  time  being,  resided  in  the 
great  seal.  He  added  that  parliament  had  a  right  to  elect  the 
regent,  the  principle  of  hereditary  right  not  being  here  applicable. 
The  right  of  the  queen  was  spoken  of;  but  it  was  intimated,  as  if 
from  authority,  that  the  queen  was  not  likely  to  oppose  the  goveni- 
ment  of  her  son. 

That  government  was  established;  but  the  care  of  the  king's 
person  remained  with  the  queen,  who  was  assisted  by  a  council. 
Tliis  rendered  an  almost  constant  attendance  at  Windsor  neces- 
sary ;  but  the  restraint  was  compensated  for  by  an  additional  ten 
thousand  a-year. 

The  queen's  letters  to  Lord  Chancellor  Eldon  are  all  expressive 
of  the  utmost  gratitude,  for  services  rendered,  and  of  suggestions 
touching  offices  expected.  She  is  anxious  that,  at  "Aer  council," 
the  great  officers  of  state  should  be  present,  to  receive  the  reports 
of  his  majesty's  health,  made  by  the  physicians  who  are  in  daily 
attendance  upon  him.  When  a  gleam  of  improvement  manifests 
itself  in  the  king's  gloomy  condition,  she  is  anxious  that  too  much 
should  not  be  made  of,  nor  expected  from  it.  Of  these  promises 
of  amelioration,  none  was  more  readily  sensible  than  the  king  him- 
self; and  his  inclination  to  believe  that  he  was  well,  or  on  the  point 
of  becoming  perfectly  so,  was  an  inclination  which  she  thought  was 
by  no  means  to  be  encouraged.  Her  urgency  on  this  point  is  re- 
markable, and  is  singularly  at  variance  with  common-sense ;  for  a 
quiet  acquiescence  in  the  king's  often  expressed  conviction,  that  he 
was  convalescent,  would  seem  to  have  been  less  likely  to  agitate 


186 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEEXS  OF  ENGLAND. 


him,  than  as  often  a  repeated  assurance  that  he  was  entirely  mis- 
taken. The  queen's  letters,  on  this  melancholy  matter,  do  not 
exhibit  much  dignity,  either  of  sentiment  or  expression ;  nor,  in-" 
deed,  was  she  a  woman  to  affect  either.  She  cared  as  little  for 
sentiment  as  she  did  for  grammar,  and  she  is  said,  at  this  time,  to 
have  exhibited  a  disregard  for  a  consistent  use  of  pronouns.  In 
Lord  Eldon's  Life,  by  Horace  Twiss,  there  is  a  note  of  hers 
addressed  to  the  lord  chancellor,  which  commences  with  "The 
Queen  fe^h"  passes  into  an  allusion  touching  how  severe  "owr" 
trials  have  been,  and  ends  with  an  *'  /  hope  Providence  will  bring 
us  throuorh." 

But  she  coidd  write  merry  little  notes  too,  and  to  the  same 
august  person.  With  the  establishment  of  the  regency,  it  seemed 
as  if  a  great  burthen  had  been  taken  from  her;  and  her  sprightli- 
ness  at  and  about  her  son's  festivals  was  quite  remarkable  in  an 
aged  and  so  naturally  ''staid"  a  lady.  On  occasion  of  the  regent's 
birth-day,  in  1812,  she  dispatched  a  letter  to  the  lord  chancellor, 
in  court.  It  commences  merrily  with  a  sort  of  written  laugh  at 
the  surprise  the  grand  dignitaiy  will  doubtless  feel  at  seeing  a 
lady's  letter  penetrate  into  his  solemn  court ;  and  thus  sportively 
it  runs  on  with  a  gay  invitation  to  come  down  to  Frograore,  to 
spend  the  regent's  birth-day.  "  You  will  not  be  learned/^  occu- 
pied," perhaps,  suggests  the  mirthful  old  lady,  "  but  you  will  be,  at 
least,  legally  engaged,  in  the  lawful  occupation  of  dining." 

The  office  held  by  the  queen  was  not  a  pleasant  one,  but  she 
contrived  to  reconcile  it  with  a  considerable  amount  of  enjoyment. 
The  events  of  her  life  which  brought  her  in  collision  with  her 
daughter-in-law,  will  be  found  detailed  in  the  story  of  the  latter. 
Those  of  her  office  as  guardian  of  the  king  sometimes  brought  her 
in  connection  with  touching  incidents.  Thus,  she  one  day  found  . 
him  singing  a  hymn  to  the  accompaniment  of  a  harpsichord,  jdayed 
by  himself.  On  concluding  it,  he  knelt  down,  prayed  for  his  family, 
the  nation,  and  finally  that  God  would  restore  to  him  the  reason 
which  he  felt  he  had  lost !  At  other  times  he  might  be  heard 
invoking  death,  and  he  even  imagined  himself  dead,  and  a^ked  for 
a  suit  of  black  that  he  might  go  into  mourning  for  the  old  king ! 
These  incidents   were  great  trials  to  the  queen,  wiio   witnessed 


CnARLOTTE   SOPHIA. 


187 


them,  or  had  them  reported  to  her.     But  she  had  trials  also  from 
another  source. 

In  181 G,  the  public  distress  was  very  great,  and  those  in  high 
places  were  unpopular,  often  for  no  better  reason  than  that  they 
fcere  in  high  places,  and  w^re  supposed  to  be  indifferent  to  the 
sufferings  of  the  more  lowly,  and  harder  tried.  The  queen  came 
in  for  more  than  h<'r  due  share  of  the  popular  ill-will,  but  she  met 
the  first  expression  of  it  with  uncommon  spirit ;  a  spirit  indeed 
which  gained  for  her  the  silent  respect  of  the  mob,  who  had  begun 
by  insulting  her.  As  her  majesty  was  proceeding  to  her  last 
drawing-room,  in  the  year  1815,  she  was  sharply  hissed,  loudly 
reviled,  and  insultingly  asked  what  she  had  done  with  the  Princess 
Charlotte.  She  was  so  poorly  protected,  that  the  mob  actually 
stopped  her  chair.  Whereupon,  it  is  reported,  she  quietly  let 
down  the  glass,  and  calmly  said  to  those  nearest  to  her : — "  I  am* 
above  seventy  years  of  age,  I  have  been  more  than  half  a  century 
Queen  of  England,  and  I  never  was  hissed  by  a  mob  before."  The 
mob  admired  the  si)irit  of  the  undaunted  old  lady,  and  they  allowed 
her  to  pass  on  without  further  molestation. 

Her  son,  the  Prince  Regent,  sent  several  aides-de-camp  to  escort 
his  mother  from  St.  James's  to  Buckingham  House,  but  she  de- 
clined their  attendance.  They  told  her  that  having  had  the  orders 
of  the  regent  to  escort  her  safely  to  Buckingham  House,  they  felt 
bound  to  perform  the  office  entrusted  to  them  by  the  prince.  "You 
have  left  Carlton  House,  by  his  royal  highness's  orders,"  said 
Queen  Charlotte,  "  return  there  by  mine,  or  I  will  leave  my  chair, 
and  go  home  on  foot."  She  was,  of  course,  carefully  watched  in 
spite  of  her  commands,  but  the  cool  magnanimity  she  displayed 
was  quite  sufficient  to  procure  for  her  respect  from  the  crowd. 

Although  the  king  had  some  lucid  intervals,  he  never  again- be- 
came perfectly  conscious  of  the  bearing  of  public  events,  and  if  he 
was  deprived  of  some  enjoyment  thereby,  he  was  also  spared  much 
pain.  He  was  as  little  aware  of  what  passed  in  his  own  family, 
and  although  he  could  make  pertinent  questions,  and  sometimes 
argue  correctly  enough,  from  wrong  premises,  he  was  unable  to 
comprehend  the  meaning  of  much  that  was  told  to  him.  Thus  the 
marriage  of  liis  grand-daughter,  a  circumstance  to  which  he  used 


I 


188 


LIVES   OF  THE   QUEENS   OF  ENGLAND. 


to  allude  playfully,  was  now  to  him  a  perfect  blank.  This  cere- 
mony took  place  on  the  2nd  of  May,  IHllJ.  It  will  be  more  fully 
alluded  to  hereafter.  In  this  place,  it  may,  however,  be  stated, 
that  the  drawing-room  in  honor  of  the  marriage  of  the  Princess 
Charlotte  to  Prince  Leoi)old  was  held  at  Buckingham  House.  It 
was  brilliant,  the  queen  was  gracious,  and  only  the  regent  exhibit- 
ed a  want  of  his  usual  urbanity,  by  turning  his  back  on  a  lady  who 
was  about  to  enter  the  service  of  the  Princess  of  Wales.  The 
bride  did  not  look  her  best  on  this  public  occasion.  She  stood 
apart  from  the  royal  circle,  in  a  recess  formed  by  a  window,  with 
her  back  to  the  light,  and  was  "  deadly  pale."  There  was  an  ex- 
pression of  pleasure  on  her  countenance,  but  it  was  thought  to  be 
forced.  ''  Prince  Leopold,"  says  a  contemporary  writer,  "  was 
looking  about  him,  witli  a  keen  glance  of  inquiry,  as  if  he  would 
•like  to  know  in  what  light  people  regarded  him."  The  queen 
either  was,  or  pretended  to  be,  in  the  highest  jwssible  spirits,  and 
was  very  gracious  to  everybody.  All  the  time  I  was  in  this 
courtly  scene,  and  especially  as  I  looked  at  the  Princess  Charlotte, 
I  could  not  help  thinking  of  the  Princess  of  Wales,  and  feeling 
very  sorry  and  very  angry  at  her  cruel  fate.  ...  I  dare  say 
the  Princess  Charlotte  was  thinking  of  the  Princess  of  Wales,  when 
she  stood  in  the  gay  scene  of  to-day's  drawing-room,  and  that  the 
remembrance  of  her  mother,  excluded  from  all  her  rights  and  priv- 
ileges in  a  foreign  country,  and  left  almost  without  any  attendants, 
made  her  feel  very  melancholy.  I  never  can  understand  how 
Queen  Charlotte  could  dare  refuse  to  receive  the  Princess  of  Wales 
at  the  public  drawing-room,  any  more  than  she  would  any  other 
lady,  of  whom  nothing  has  been  publicly  proved  against  her  char- 
acter. Of  one  thing  there  can  be  no  doubt.  Tlie  queen  is  the 
slave  of  the  regent." 

Of  this  assertion,  however,  very  grave  doubt  may  be  entertained. 
The  regent,  at  this  time,  certainly  loved  ''  the  old  queen,"  as  she 
was  familiarly  called,  if  a  service  of  tender  respect,  deference, 
courtesy,  and  apparent  good-will,  may  be  taken  as  proofs  of  such  a 
love  existing. 

Her  own  health  was  now  beginninor  to  ":ive  wav,  and  she  souirht 
to  restore  it  by  trying  the  efficacy  of  the  Bath  waters ;  but  with 


CHARLOTTE   SOPHIA. 


189 


only  temporary  relief.  She  was  at  Bath,  when  the  news  of  the 
death  of  the  Princess  Charlotte  reached  her,  in  November  1817, 
and  her  health  grew  visibly  worse  under  the  shock.  Her  absence 
from  the  side  of  the  young  princess  at  this  period  which  was  follow- 
ed by  such  fatal  consequences,  was  at  the  request  of  the  princess 
herself,  who  knew  that  the  queen's  good-will,  in  this  case,  was 
stronger  than  her  ability.  The  popular  voice,  however,  blamed 
her,  and  it  was  unmistakeably  expressed  on  her  return  to  London. 
The  last  visit  paid  by  the  queen  to  the  chy,  differed  in  every 
respect  from  that  which  she  had  paid  it  when  a  bride.  Her  first 
visit  had  been  one  of  fonn  and  ceremony ;  mingled,  however,  with 
a  hearty  lack  of  formality  in  some  of  the  occurrences  of  the  day. 
She  went  amid  the  citizens  surrounded  by  guards,  and  this  atten- 
dance was  not  as  doubting  the  loyalty  of  the  Londoners,  but  that 
royalty  might  look  respectable  in  their  eyes.  On  the  occasion  of 
the  last  visit,  her  majesty  intimated  to  the  Lord  Mayor,  Alderman 
Christopher  Smith,  that  she  wished  to  be  received  without  cere- 
mony ;  and  this  wish  the  corporate  magnates  construed  as  meaning 
without  protection ;  there  was  as  little  of  that  as  of  civil  politeness. 
The  High  Constable  of  Westminster  attended  near  her  majesty's 
carriage  as  far  as  Temple  Bar,  the  westward  limit  of  his  jurisdic- 
tion. On  arriving  there,  however,  he  found  no  one  in  authority  to 
receive  the  queen,  and  accordingly  he  continued  to  ride  by  the 
side  of  the  royal  carriage  until  it  reached  the  Mansion  House. 
The  mob  was  a-foot,  active,  numerous,  and  rudely-tongued  that 
day.  As  the  queen  passed  through  she  was  assailed  by  the  most 
hideous  yells,  and  many  of  the  populace  thru.-t  their  heads  into  the 
carriage,  and  gave  expression  to  the  most  diabolical  menaces.  If 
it  be  true,  as  has  been  reported,  that  the  queen  minutely  detailed 
in  writing  the  memoirs  of  her  own  life,  the  events  of  this  day  must 
have  been  penned  by  a  trembling,  but  indignant  hand.  At  the 
Mansion  House,  so  little  protection  was  afforded  her,  that  the  fore- 
most of  the  people  were  almost  thrust  upon  her,  their  violence  of 
speech  shocked  her  ears,  and  they  attempted,  but  unsuccessfully, 
to  disarm  one  of  her  footmen  of  his  sword.  In  the  evening  of  this 
melancholy  last  visit  she  dined  with  the  Duke  of  York,  and  it  was 
there  that  she  first  suffered  from  a  violent  spasmodic  attack,  from 


190 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS    OF  ENGLAND. 


the  effects  of  which  s^he  never  perfectly  recovered.  The  Lord 
Mayor  stoutly  maintained  that  the  visit  had  very  much  improved 
her  majesty's  health.  He  thought,  perhaps,  that  excitement  was 
a  tonic  to  age  and  infirmity.  The  queen's  heahh  really  suffered 
materially  from  the  excitement ;  and  it  was  not  with  her  wonted 
calmness  that  she  could  even  listen,  on  the  following  Sunday,  to  the 
usual  weekly  sermon,  always  rcafl  aloud  to  her,  by  one  of  the 
princesses. 

It  is  certain  that  from  the  early  part  of  the  year  1818,  the  aged 
queen  may  be  said  to  have  been  in  a  rapidly  declining  state.    Her 
condition,  however,   was  not  highly  dangerous   till   the  autumn, 
when  her  spasmodic  attacks  became   more  frequent  and  the  pro- 
gress of  dropsical  symptoms  more  alarming.     Her  sufi'erings  were 
very  great,  and  if  she  experienced  temjmrary  ease,  the  slightest 
variation  of  position  renewed  her  pain.     She  continued  in  this 
condition  until  the  14th  of  November,  when,  by  a  slight  rupture  in 
the  skin  of  both  ankles,  from  which  there  took  place  a  consideral^Ie 
effusion  of  water,  the   venerable  lady  exixM-ienced  some  relief. 
Her  condition,  however,  was  not  bettered  thereby,  for  mortification 
soon  set  in,  and  that  portion  of  her  family  which  was  in  attendauce 
upon  her,  soon  learned  that  all  hope  was  abandoned ;  after  an  in- 
terval of  more  than  eighty  years,  England  was  again  about  to  lose 
a  queen-consort ;  but  no  queen-consort  had  for  so  long  a  period 
shared  the  throne  of  the  empire  as   Charlotte.     For  fifty-seven 
years  she  had  occui)ied  the  higli  place  from  which  she  was  now 
about  to  descend.     On  Tuesday,  the  IGth  November,  1818,  at  one 
o'clock,  p.  M.,  the  queen  calmly  departed,  at  her  suburban  palace  at 
Kew.     Her  last  breath  was  drawn  in  the  anns  of  her  eldest  son, 
the  regent,  whose  attentions  to  her  had  been  unremittiug,  and  the 
Duke  of  York,  and  the   Princess  Augusta,  and  the   Duchess  of 
Gloucester  were  also  present.     The  Princess  Elizabeth  of  Hesse 
Homburg  was  said  to  have  been  absent,  ou  account  of  some  difter- 
ence  between  herself  and  her  royal  mother,  but  it  was  afterwards 
ascertained  that  a  reconciliation  had  taken  place  between  mother 
and  child  before  the  i)riucess  left  the  kingdom  for  her  own  home. 
How  far  the  queen  had  acquitted  herself  as  a  parent  towards  her 
children  was  made  a  "  vexed  question  "  at  the  time  of  her  death ; 


m 


CHARLOTTE   SOPHIA. 


191 


and  an  endeavor  was  made  to  connect  the  fact  of  the  dispersion  of 
several  of  the  princes  and  princesses  in  foreign  countries,  with  the 
mother  as  an  irritating  cause  thereof.     The  I'lmes^  at  the  period 
of  which  we  are   treating,  entered  largely  upon  this  subject ;  and 
that  organ  was  evidently  inclined  to  conclude  that  her  majesty  had 
not  succeeded  in  attaching  to  her  the  hearts  of  her  children.  "  The 
Duke  of  Cumberland,"  said  the  Times,  '*  is  out  of  the  question. 
The  inflexible,  but  well-meant,  determination  of  the  queen  to 
stigmatize  her  niece,  by  shutting  the  doors  of  the  royal  palace 
against  her,  may  excuse  strong  feelings  of  estrangement  or  resent- 
ment on  the  part  of  the  duchess  and  her  kindred.     But  that  the 
Dukes  of  Clarence,  Kent,  and  Cambridge,  at  the  same  time  should 
have  quitted,  as  if  by  signal,  their  parent's  death-bed,  is  a  cir- 
cumstance which,  in  lower  life,  would  have  at  least  astonished  the 
community."     We   have  noticed  that  the  Princess  Elizabeth  was 
on  good  terms  with  her  royal  but  dying  mother,  when  the  latter 
parted  with  her  daughter.     This  much  is  at  least  asserted  by  tlic 
Morning  Post.     The  Times  says,  more  speculatively,   that  <'tlie 
dei)arture  of  the  Princess  PLlizabeth,  the  queen's  favorite  daughter, 
who  married,  and  took  leave  of  her,  in  the  midst  of  that  illness 
which  was  pronounced  must  shortly  bring  her  to  the  grave,  may, 
perhaps,  have  been  owing  to  the  express  injunctions  of  her  majesty. 
The  Duke  of  Gloucester  stands  in  a  more  remote  dejrree  of  rela- 
tionship ;   Prince  Leopold  more  distant  still ;  but  they  all  quitted 
the  scene  of  suffering  at  a  period  when  its  fatal  termination  could 
not  be  doubted ;  and,  as  these  have  departed,  it  is  no  less  apparent 
to  common  observers  that  the  Queen  of  Wurtemburgh  might  have 
approached  the  bed  of  a  dying  mother,  from  whom,  by  the  usual 
lot  of  princes  she  has  been  so  long  separated,  as  that  her  royal 
parent  has  not  accepted  from  her  the  performance  of  that  painful 
duty."     The  same  authority,  however,  confesses  that  the  leading 
members  of  the  royal  family  who  remained  in  England  were  un- 
wearied in  their  attendance  on  their  dying  parent,  and  so  far  set 
an  example  to  flie  people  of  England,  over  whom  they  had  been 
placed  by  Providence. 

The  influence  of  Queen  Charlotte  in  political  affairs,  even  had 
she  been  as  much  inclined  to  exercise  it  as  her  enemies  charged 


192 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF   ENGLAND. 


her  with,  was  but  small.  It  could  not  be  otherwise  in  a  country 
with  such  a  constitution  as  ours — a  limited  monarchy,  the  ministers 
of  which  are  sure  to  be  made  responsible  for  grave  consequences 
arising  from  the  surrender  of  their  authority  to  a  power  un- 
recognized by  the  constitution.  That  the  influence,  however,  was 
not  quite  dormant  was  seen  in  the  fact  of  the  government  paying 
the  debts  of  her  majesty's  brother,  the  Prince  of  Strelitz,  with 
30,000/.  of  the  public  money ;  and  the  same  influence  was  suspect- 
ed when  the  queen's  friend,  the  Earl  of  Suffolk,  who  had  under- 
taken to  arrange  the  embarrassed  affairs  of  the  Prince  of  Strelitz, 
was  appointed  to  the  office  of  secretary  of  state. 

If  the  queen  was  not  always   a   liberal  recompenser,  she,  at 
least,  was  a  punctual  payer.     In  this  respect,  she   excelled    the 
king   himself.     On  the  other  hand,  when  tbe  latter  was  at  issue 
with  his  brothers  or  children,  because  of  objectionable  mamages 
entered  into  by  them,  the  queen  dfd  not  aggravate  the  quarrel, 
although    she   felt    keenly  on   the   subject.      She  was   in  many 
respects,  a  ^  homely  "  woman,  but  in  matters  of  homeliness  the 
king  set  the  example.     He  watched  incessantly  over  the  mental 
and  physical    education  of  his  children  ;    *'and    the  daily  disci- 
pline of  the    nursery  itself  did    not    escape    his   paternal    solici- 
tudes."      But,  says    the     Times,  "that    her    majesty's    voluntary 
tastes  were  not  exactly  those  which  had  been  inferred  from  the 
habits  of  her  matrimonial  life,  may  be   conjectured  from  the  revo- 
lution which  they  seemed  to  undergo  soon  after  the  period  when 
her  royal  husband  ceased  to   exercise  the  supreme  authority  in 
this   realm.      At   that   period,  a    transition  was   observed  *  from 
grave  to  gay.'     The  sober  dignity,  the  chastened  grandeur,  the 
national  character  of  the  English  court,  seemed  to  vanish  with  the 
afllicted  sovereign,     A  new  species  of  grandeur  now  succeeded 
in  which  there  was  more  of  the  exterior  of  royalty  and  less  of 
its  becoming  spirit.     A  long  series  of  what  was  meant  to  be  fes- 
tivities— crowded  balls,  and    elaborate    suppers,  glittering  pomp 
gaudy  and  gorgeous,  yet    fluttering   decoration — reckless,    capri- 
cious, yet  never-ending,  profusion — all  the  apparatus  of  common- 
place magnificence  were  introduced  with  the  regency  and  counte- 
nxmced,  or  apparently  not  discountenanced,  by  the   queen."     It 


CHAKLOrrJfi   SOFHIA. 


193 


must  be  remembered,  however,  that    in    these  matters    she    had 
no  control  over  the  regent,  indeed  we  have,  in  a   former  page, 
seen  her  called  his  "slave."     During  her  life,  she,  at  all  evente' 
had  influence  enough  to  maintain  a  regal  retinue  about  the  person 
of  her  afflicted  husband.     She  had  no  sooner  expired,  however 
when   her   son  dismissed  immediately  nearly  the  whole   of  this 
retinue,  on   the    ground    of  its    uselessness    to   the    unconscious 
king,  and  the  very  great  expense  it  was  to   the  country.     The 
country  was   not   unwilling   to  see  a  few  thousands  a-year  eco- 
nomized by  stripping  the  fine  old  monarch  of  some  of  the  super- 
fluous grandeur  by  which  he  wa<^  surrounded.    The  country,  never- 
theless, was  sorely  perplexed  and  bitterly  indignant  when  it  saw 
that  the    thousands  which    had    been  paid   to   numerous    officers 
in  daily  service  on  the  king,  were  now  to  be  paid  to  the  Duke  of 
York,  who,  for  ten  thousand  a-year,  constrained  his  filial  aflfection 
to  the  severe  labor  of  inquiring  after  his  sick  sire  once  a  week. 

The  queen's  funeral  took  place  on  the  2nd  of  December,  at 
Windsor.  It  was  a  public  funeral,  in  the  accepted  sense  of  that 
term,  but  the  arrangements  were  inappropriate.  The  procession 
mainly  consisted  of  military,  horse  and  foot,  as  if  they  had  been 
escorting  a  warrior,  and  not  a  woman,  to  the  tomb.  The  members 
of  the  peerage  did  scant  honor  to  the  queen  whom  they  had  pro- 
fessed to  reverence  when  alive.  Few,  and  those  not  of  note, 
were  present.  The  absence  of  peeresses  was  especially  noted. 
Indeed,  the  public  funeral  of  Charlotte  was  more  private  than  the 
private  funeral  of  her  predecessor  Caroline. 

The  will  of  Queen  Charlotte  was  that  of  a  woman  of  foresight 
and  good  memory  rather  than  of  feeling  and  affection.  The  will 
was  proved  by  Lord  Arden  and  General  Taylor,  the  executors. 
It  was  in  the  general's  handwriting,  and  was  witnessed  by  Sir 
Francis  Millman  and  Sir  Henry  Halford.  The  personal  property 
was  sworn  to  as  being  under  140,000/. 

The  substance  of  the  will  wa«  as  follows  ; — the  royal  testatrix 
directed  that  her  debts,  and  the  legacies  and  annuities  noticed  in 
her  will,  should  be  paid  out  of  the  personalty,  or  sale  of  personals, 
if  there  should  not  be  wherewith   in  her  majesty's   treasury  to 

provide   for  those  payments.      The    personal    property  was    of 
Vol.  II. — 9 


194 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF   ENGLAND. 


various  descriptions ;  part  of  it  comprised  the  real  estate  in  New 
Windsor,  which  she  had  purchased  of  Hhe  Duke  of  St.  Albans,  and 
which  was  known  as  the  Lower  Lodge  (left  to  the  Princess 
Sophia)  ;  but  the  personalty  of  the  greatest  value  may  be  said  to 
have  been  those  splendid  jewels,  which  she  cherished  so  dearly, 
and  for  which  she  affected  to  have  such  little  care.  These  the 
systematic  sovereign  divided  into  three  parts : — Those  presented 
to  her  by  the  king,  on  her  marriage,  worth  50,000/.  ;  those  pre- 
sented to  her  by  the  Nabob  of  Arcot,  for  the  acquisition  of  which  she 

paid  by  a  temporary  forfeiture  of  what  she  very  little  regarded 

popular  favor  ;  and  those  purchased  by  herself,  or  which  she  had 
received  as  presents  on  birthday  occasions.  Such  souvenirs  were 
to  her  the  most  welcome  gifts  that  could  ba  made  to  her  on  that 
or  any  other  anniversary.  Of  these  jewels  she  made  the  following 
disjwsal :  She  directed  that  the  diamonds  given  to  her  by  the  kingt 
on  her  marriage,  should  revert  to  him  only  on  condition  that,  with 
survivorship,  there  should  be  recovery  of  his  mental  faculties.  Jf 
he  were  not  restored  to  reason,  she  then  directed— what  he  never 

would  have  consented  to  had  his  reason  been  restored  to  him 

that  they  should  be  made  over  to  the  House  of  Hanover,  as  an  heir- 
loom. Such  a  disposal  of  property  that  should  have  remained  in 
England  transferred  the  diamonds  to  Hanover  whenever  that 
kingdom  should  be  divided  from  England  by  the  accession,  in  the 
latter  country,  of  a  queen— who,  according  to  the  law  of  Hanover, 
could  not  reign  in  that  continental  kingdom. 

The  splendid  tribute  which  the  Nabob  of  Arcot  had  deposited  at 
her  feet  she  divided  among  four  of  her  daughters.     The  excepted 
daughter  was  the  Queen  of  AVurtemburg,  whom  she  looked  upon 
as  exceedingly  well  provided   for.     To  the  remaining   four   the 
careful  mother  did  not  bequeath  the  glittering  gems,  but  the  value 
of  them  after  they  were  sold,  and  after  certain  debt^  were  dis- 
charged from  the  produce  of  the  sale.     The  four  princesses  divided 
between  them  what  remained.     The  jewels  which  slie  had  bou<rht 
or  had  received  as  birthday  presents,  were  also  to  be  divided  amon^ 
the  same  four  daughters,  according  to  a  valuation  to  be  made  of 
them.     The  diamonds  were  valued  at  nearly  a  million.     In  ready 
money  the  queen  left  behind  her  only  4,000/. 


CHAliLOTTE   SOPHIA. 


4' 


195 


Frogmore  was  bequeathed  to  the  Princess  Augusta ;  and  her 
plate,  linen,  pictures,  china,  books,  furniture,  &c.,  were  left  to  the 
four  princesses  already  named.  Of  her  sons  the  testatrix  made 
no  mention,  nor  to  them  left  any  legacy.  There  were  other  per- 
sons mentioned,  but  who'  came  off  as  badly  as  though  they  had 
never  been  named.  Her  majesty  directed  that  certain  bequests 
as  set  down  in  certain  lists  annexed  to  her  will,  and  to  which  due 
reference  was  made,  should  be  paid  to  them ;  but  not  only  were  no 
such  lists  so  annexed,  but  it  was  ascertained  that  her  majesty  had 
never  drawn  any  out  herself  nor  directed  any  to  be  drawn  by 
others. 

There  was,  however,  another  list,  touching  which  the  aged  queen 
had  been  by  no  means  so  forgetftil.  This  list  contained  a  detail 
of  property  which  the  testatrix  declared  she  had  brought  with 
her,  more  than  a  half  a  century  before,  from  Mecklenburgh 
Strelitz.  Thither  she  ordered  it  to  be  sent  back — to  the  senior 
branch  of  her  illustrious  house.  After  millions  received  from  this 
country  during  her  residence  in  it,  she  would  not  testify  her  grati- 
tude for  such  magnificence  by  permitting  it  or  her  family  in  England 
to  profit  by  the  handfull  of  small  valuables  she  had  brought  with 
her  from  Strelitz.  To  the  head  of  the  house  of  Mecklenburgh 
Strelitz  reverted  the  few  old-fashioned  things  brought  over  here  in 
the  trunks  of  the  bride ;  and,  if  they  have  been  woj  th  preserving, 
the  old-world  finery  of  Sophia  Charlotte  of  Strelitz  and  England 
is  now  possessed  by  the  Grand  Duchess  of  Mecklenburgh"  the 
daughter  of  Charlotte's  son,  Adolphus  of  Cambridge. 

The  will  was  dated  only  the  day  previous  to  her  majesty's 
demise.  It  had  been  put  together  at  various  periods  since  the  2nd 
of  the  previous  May,  by  an  officer  of  her  majesty's  establishment 
— no  doubt  General  Taylor.  About  a  fortnight  previous  to  her 
majesty's  decease,  she  was  for  the  first  time  made  acquainted  with 
her  dangerous  condition  by  a  communication  delicately  conveyed 
to  her  by  order  of  the  prince  regent,  and  to  the  effect,  "  that  if  her 
majesty  had  any  affairs  to  settle  it  would  be  advisable  to  do  so 
while  she  had  health  and  spirits  to  bear  the  fatigue."  The  royal 
sufferer  well  comprehended  what  was  meant  by  such  a  messao-e, 
and  was  very  seriously  affected  by  it.     She  had  entertained  strong 


196 


LIVES   OF  THE   QUEENS   OF  ENGLAND. 


hopes,  amounting  almost  to  confidence,  that,  by  the  skill  of  her 
medical  attendants,  she  would  be  again  restored  to  health.  Thid 
recommendation  to  set  her  "  house  in  order  "  was  an  announcement 
that  her  case  was  hopeless.  Affected  as  she  was,  she  did  not  lose 
her  dignity  or  self-possession,  but  resigned  herself  to  death,  even 
while  regretting  she  was  about  to  depart  from  life.  This  was  na- 
tural ;  and  as  there  had  never  been  any  false  sentiment  about 
Queen  Charlotte,  so  was  she  above  exhibiting  any  in  her  last  mo- 
ments. Her  patience  was  extreme  ;  and  in  the  acutest  of  her 
agony,  she  never  once  suffered  a  murmur  of  complaint  to 
escape  her. 

It  has  been  said  that  the  queen  left  no  diamonds  to  her  daughter, 
the   dowager  queen  of  Wurtemburg.     She  left  her,  however,  a 
superb  set  of  garnets.    The  reason  assigned  was,  that  garnets  were 
the  only  precious  stones  that  could  be  worn  with  mourning,  which 
the  dowager  queen  had  announced  her  intention  of  weaTing  for 
life.     Queen   Charlotte  had,  as  ladies  averred  who   spoke  with 
connaissance  du  fait,  the  finest  wardrobe  in  Europe,  the  hic^hly- 
consoled  legatee  of  which  was  Madame  Beckendoff,  the  queen'3 
chief-dresser.     It  may  be  noticed  here  that  the  queen's  debts— 
chiefly  contracted,  it  was  said,   by  allowing  her  contributions^  tp 
charitable  objects  exceed  her  available  income,  which  is  no  excuse 
whatever  for  any  one  incurring  debt— amounted  to  9,000/.     The 
debt  was  acquitted  out  of  the  produce  of  the  sale  of  the  diamond^ 
While  on  the  subject  of  the  will  and  the  jewels,  it  may  not  be  amiss 
to  mention  that  the  queen,  after  wearing  her  diamonds  and  other 
gems,  on  public  occasions,  invariably  consigned  them  to  the  care 
of  Messrs.  Rundell,  Bridge,  &  Co.,  the  well-known  goldsmiths  of 
Ludgate  Hill.     The  queen  herself  put  her  diamonds  into  the  hands 
of  one  of  the  partners  of  that  house,  by  whom  they  were  conveyed 
to  the  Bank.     The  only  exception  to  this  rule  was  after  the  last 
drawing-room  was   hed  by  her,  when  her  majesty  was  too  ill  to 
make  her  usual   consignment,   and  retired,   nither  hurriedly    to 
Kew.     A  few  days  subsequently,  the  diamonds  were  placed  in  the 
ordinary   London  guardianship,   by  the   Princess  Au-u.ta    who 
earned  them  up  expressly  from  Kew.     The  queen,  however,  held 
m  her  own  keeping  the  «  George  "  and  the  diamond-hilted  sword 


i 


CHARLOTTE   SOPHIA. 


197 


worn  on  public  occasions  by  her  consort. .  These  were  kept  in  a 
cabinet,  at  Windsor  Castle.  Immediately  after  the  queen's  death 
this  cabinet  was  examined  by  the  prince  regent,  but  neither  George 
nor  diamond-hilted  sword,  was  to  be  found  therein  ;  and  the  heir 
was  not  more  a-tonished  than  perplexed*;  for  the  queen  had  left 
no  intimation  as  to  where  the  valuables  were  deposited. 

The  inquiry  set  on  foot  was  not  at  first  encouraging.  Sugges- 
tions could  only  be  made  that  the  coveted  property  might  have 
been  deposited  by  the  late  queen  in  some  of  the  cabinets  which 
would  remain  locked  until  after  the  royal  funeral.  Some  surmised 
that  George  HI.  himself  had  stowed  them  away,  and  that  his  heirs 
might  be  extremely  puzzled  to  discover  the  place  of  deposit.  This 
was  considered  the  more  likely,  as  her  majesty  had,  on  one  occa- 
sion, missed  from  her  room  a  gold  ewer  and  basin  of  exquisite 
workmanship,  enriched  with  gems.  They  were  missed  previous  to 
the  last  mental  indisposition  of  the  king,  who  professed  that  he 
knew  nothing  whatever  about  them,  but  greatly  feared  that  they 
had  been  stolen  by  a  confidential  servant.  His  majesty  was 
strongly  suspected  of  having  been  himself  the  thief.  Many  months 
after  his  malady  had  set  in,  the  ewer  and  basin  were  discovered 
behind  some  books  in  his  study,  to  which  he  alone  had  access.  It 
is  supposed  that,  having  concealed  them  by  excess  of  caution,  he 
totally  forgot  the  circumstance,  through  growing  infirmity  of 
intellect. 

In  a  few  days  it  was  announced,  that  all  that  was  "  now  missino- 
of  the  late  king's  jewels  were  his  star  and  garter,"  valued  at  about 
seven  thousand  pounds.  How  the  diamond-hilted  sword  was  dis- 
covered, is  not  stated  in  the  cun*ent  news  of  the  day ;  but,  while 
that  was  recovered,  the  garter  appears  to  have  been  lost,  for  no 
mention  of  such  loss  had  been  previously  made. 

The  consort  of  Queen  Charlotte  survived  until  January,  1820. 
Her  son,  Edward,  Duke  of  Kent,  died  a  week  previously.  During 
the  la-t  years  of  the  old  king — who  seemed  to  grow  in  majesty  as 
his  end  approached — he  lived  in  a  world  of  his  own,  conversed 
with  imaginary  individuals,  ran  his  fingers  ramblingly  over  his 
harpsichord,  and  was,  in  every  other  respect,  dead  to  all  around 
him.     He  passed  out  of  the  world  calmly  and  unconsciously,  after 


198 


LIVES   OF  THE   QUEENS  OF   ENGLAND. 


CAROLINE   OF   BRUNSWICK. 


199 


a  long  reign— and  perhaps  a  more  troubled  reign  than  that  of  any 
other  king  of  England.     Of  the  children  of  Charlotte,  four  ascend- 
ed thrones.     George  and   William   became  successive  kings  of 
England  ;  Ernest,  king  of  Hanover;  and  Charlotte  Augusta,  queen 
of  Wurtemburg.     Tlie^e  and  her  other  children,  all  save  one, 
have  followed  their  mother  to  the  tomb.     Tiie  married  daughters, 
Charlotte  and  Elizabeth,  died  childless.     Of  her  married  sons,' 
only  the  King  of  Hanover  and  the  Dukes  of  Kent  and  Cambridge' 
left  heirs  behind  them,— the  first,  a  son  ;  the  second,  a  daughte'r, 
our  present  queen ;  the  last,  a  son  and  two  daughters.     Thus,  of 
the  numerous  family  of  George  and  Charlotte,   there  are  in  the 
second  generation  but  five  representatives.     The  sole  surviving 
child  of  the  sovereigns  just  named  is  Mary,  their  fourth  daughte^ 
born  in  177G,  and  married  in  1810,  at  the  age  of  fortv,  to  her 
cousin  and  old  admirer,  the  Duke  of  Gloucester,  who  was  born  in 
the  same  year  as  the  princess.     This  venerable  lady  has  lived 
through  an  eventful  time ;  but,  of  all  the  events  she  has  ever  wit- 
nessed, or  borne  a  part  in,  perhaps  none  was  more  important  (not, 
mdeed,  as  regarded  herself.)  than  the  visit  which  her  roval  hicrh- 
ness  so  recently  received  from  the  Emperor  and  the  Empress'^of 
the  French.     The  duchess  was  as  pleased  with  this  manifcv-^tation 
of  the  union  between  England  and  France  as  universal  En-land 
^as  pleased  ;  and  it  is  said  that,  in  contrasting  the  facts  and^feel- 
mgs  of  the  times,  and  this  incident  with  those  of  a  by-gone  period 
when  mutual  rage  made  foes  of  the  nations  that  should\e  for  ever 
friends,  she  thought  of  that  one  of  her  sisters,  who,  more  lar-ely 
than  the  rest,  shared  in  the  general  error,  of  a  natural-born  enmity 
between  the  two  countries  ;  and  thus  contrasting,  and  thus  thinkincr 
the  fourth  daughter  of  Queen  Charlotte  exclaimed,  with  a  placfd 
smile,  "  But  what  icould  have  been  thought  of  it  by  the  Princess 
Augusta  ?" 


I' 

i 


r 


^> 


CAROLINE    OF    BRUNSWICK. 


8ie  lit  ein  Weib.     Was  Mg'  ieh  denn  von  ihr 
Nicht  Unrecht  ihr  zu  tbun  ! 

DiXOKLITEDT. 


CHAPTER   I. 


MOTHER    AND    DAUGHTER. 


On  the  12th  of  January,  1764,  Charles  William  Frederick,  the 
hereditary  Prince  of  Brunswick,  landed  at  Harwich  (the  then 
portal  by  which  royal  brides  and  bridegrooms  had  ingress  to  and 
egress  from  England),  to  take  the  hand  which  had  been  already 
asked,  and  not  over-graciously  granted,  of  the  Princess  Augusta. 
This  half-reluctance  was  on  the  part  of  the  king  and  queen ;  but 
especially  of  the  latter.     There  was  none  on  the  part  of  the  bride. 

The  young  prince  was  a  knightly  man,  lacking  a  knightly  as- 
pect. His  manner  was  better  than  his  looks.  His  reputation  as  a 
hero  was,  however,  so  great,  that  the  people  of  Harwich,  expect- 
ing to  see  an  Adonis,  nearly  pulled  down  the  house  in  which  he 
temporarily  sojourned,  in  order  to  obtain  a  better  view  of  the  illus- 
trious stranger.  When  the  prince  did  show  himself,  they  were 
rather  disappointed,  and  the  ladies  seemed  disposed  to  exclaim,  as 
the  Irish  mayoress  did  when  she  saw  the  Torso^  "  But  where  are 
the  features  ?**  His  renown  for  courage,  however,  made  amends 
for  all  shortcomings ;  and  even  the  Quakers  of  Harwich  warmed 
into  enthusiasm.  One,  more  eager  than  the  rest,  not  only  forced 
his  way  into  the  prince's  apartment,  but  took  off  his  hat  to  him, 
called  him  '-  Noble  friend  I"  kissed  his  hand,  and  protested  that, 


200 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


though  not  a  fighting  man  himself,  he  loved  those  who  could  fight 
well.  "  Thou  art  a  valiant  prince,"  said  he,  "  and  art  to  be  married 
to  a  lovely  princess.  Love  her,  make  her  a  good  husband,  and  the 
Lord  bless  you  both  !" 

The  bridegroom  got  no  such  warm  greeting  from  any  other 
quarter  as  he  did  from  the  Quaker;  and  it  .is  to  be  regretted  that 
he  did  not  follow  the  counsel  which  was  offered  him  by°liis  humble 
and  hearty  friend.  He  loved  his  wife,  and  made  her  such  a  hus- 
band as  heroes  are  too  wont  to  do— who  are  accustomed  to  love 
their  neighbors'  wives  better  than  tlieir  own. 

The  marriage  took  place  on  the  16th,  with  something,  if  not  of 
maimed   rites,   at   least   of  diminished   ceremony.     The  "Lady 
Augusta"  was  wedded  with  as  little  formality  as  Vas  observed— 
under  the  same  roof,  too— at  her  birth.     The  latter  vexed  Queen 
Caroline,  because  there  was  too  little  of  etiquette  followed  at  it. 
The  wedding  troubled  Queen  Charlotte,  lest  there  should  be  too 
much,  and  of  too  costly  a  sort.     Not  a  gun  was  fired  by  way  of 
congratulatory  salute,  as  had  been  done  when  Anne,  the  daughter 
of  Caroline,  married  the  Prince  of  Orange.     More  trifling  testimo- 
nies of  respect  were  denied  on  this  occasion,  even  when'the  bride 
had  petitioned  for  them,  on  the  ground  that  there  was  no  precedent 
for  them  in  the  "  Orange  marriage."     The  bride,  ftiirly   enough, 
.  complained  at  quotation  of  precedent  in  one  case,  which  had  be°en 
followed  in  no  other. 

The  servants  of  the  king  and  queen  were  not  even  permitted  to 
put  on  their  new  attire,  either  for  the  wedding  ceremonv,  or  the 
drawing-room  next  day.  They  were  ordered  to  keep  their  new 
suits  for  the  queen's  birthday.  The  ceremony  performed,  the 
bridal  pair  betook  themselves  to  Leicester  House,  where  they  pre- 
sided at  a  right  royal  supper;  and  this  was  the  last  time  that  kings, 
queens,  princes,  princesses,  and  half  the  peerage,  met  togetherln 
Leicester  Square  to  hold  high  festival. 

Political  party-spirit  ran  very  high  in  the  earlv  years  of  Kin- 
George's  reign  ;  and  such  especial  care  was  taken  to  keep  the 
pnnce  from  encountering  any  of  the  opposition,  that,  as  Walpolo 
remarks,  he  did  nothing  but  take  notice  of  them.  He  wrote  to 
fidgetty  Newca-stle,  and  called  on  fiery  Pitt,  and  dined  twice  with 


CAROLINE   OF  BRUNSWICK. 


201 


" 


"  the  Duke" — of  Cumberland.  On  the  evening  of  the  second  din- 
ner, he  was  engaged  to  attend  a  concert,  given  in  honor  of  himself 
and  wife,  by  the  queen.  As  he  did  not  appear  inclined  to  leave 
the  table  when  the  hour  was  growing  late,  Fironce,  his  secretary, 
pulled  out  his  watch.  The  ducal  host  took  the  hint,  and  expressed 
a  fear,  which  sounded  like  a  hope,  that  the  hour  had  come  when 
his  guest  must  leave  him.  "N'importe  I"  said  the  prince  ;  and  he 
sat  on,  sipped  his  coffee,  and  did  not  get  to  the  queen's  concert  un- 
til after  eight  o'clock,  at  which  hour,  in  those  days,  concerts  were 
half  concluded. 

By  way  of  parenthesis,  it  may  be  stated  that  Fironcfe,  the  duke's 
secretary,  who  sought  to  influence  his  master  thus  early,  long  con- 
tinued to  aim  at  exercising  the  same  power.  In  1794,  Fironce 
was  the  Duke  of  Brunswick's  prime  minister,  when  the  command 
of  the  Austrian  army,  against  France  was  offered  to  the  duke. 
The  latter  was  inclined  to  accept,  and  Fironce  had  nothing  to  say 
against  it ;  but  Fironce's  wife  (who  was  a  democrat)  had,  and  she 
forbade  her  husband  furthering  the  object  of  Austria.  But,  to 
return. 

During  the  short  sojourn  between  the  bridal  and  the  departure, 
the  whole  of  the  royal  family  went  to  Covent  Garden  Theatre  to 
see  Murphy's  decidedly  dull  and  deservedly  damned  comedy,  "  No 
One's  Enemy  but  his  Own," — a  comedy  which  even  AVoodward 
could  not  make  endurable.  The  feature  of  the  night,  however, 
was  the  difference  which  the  public  made  between  their  reception 
of  the  king  and  queen  and  that  given  to  the  newly-married  pair. 
For  the  latter  there  was  an  ebullition  of  enthusiasm ;  for  the  form- 
er, who  were  suspected  of  being  more  cold  to  the  bridegroom  than 
his  deserts  warranted,  there  was  little  fervor ;  and  the  then  young 
Queen  Charlotte  was  not  a  woman  to  love  either  bride  or  bride- 
groom the  better  for  (hat. 

On  the  following  night,  the  same  august  party  appeared  at  the 
Opera  House.  The  multitude  which  endeavored  to  gain  access  to 
the  interior  would  have  filled  three  such  houses  as  that  in  the 
Haymarket.  Ladies,  hopeless  of  reaching  the  doors  in  their  car- 
riages, left  them  in  Pickadilly,  and  gathering  up  their  hoops, 
attempted  to  make  their  w^ay  on  foot,  or  in  sedans.     So  great  were 


202 


]    YES  OF  'JHE   QUEENS   OF  ENGLAND. 


the  concourse  and  confusion  in  the  Haymarket,  that  the  gentlemen, 
to  force  a  passage  for  these  adventurous  ladies  and  themselves, 
drew  their  swords  and  threatened  direful  things  to  all  who  stood 
between  them  and  their  boxes. 

In  the  meantime,  the  house  was  overflowing  ;  and  Horace  Wal- 
pole,  who  has  faithfully  jiainted  the  scene — except,  perhaj)s,  where  he 
presumes  to  construe  the  politeness  of  the  prince  into  contempt  for 
Iiis  royal  brother  and  sister-in-law,  tells  us — "  The  crowd  could  not 
be  described.     The  Duchess  of  Leeds,  Lady  Denbigh,  Lady  Scar- 
borough, and  others,  sat  in  chairs  between  the  scenes ;  the  doors  of 
the  front  boxes  were  thrown  open,  and  the  passages  were  all  filled 
to  the  back  of  the  stoves.     Nay,  women  of  fashion  stood  in  the  very- 
stairs  till  eight  at  night.     In  the  middle  of  the  second  act,  the  he- 
reditary prince,  who  sat  with  his  wife  and  her  brothers  in  their  box, 
got  up ;  tunied  his  bick  to  king  and  queen,  pretending  to  offer  his 
place  to  Lady  Tankerville,  and  then   to  Lady  Susan.     You  know 
enough  of  Germans  and  their  stiffness  to  etiquette,  to  be  sure  this 
could  not  be  done  inadvertently ;  especially  as  he  repeated  this, 
only  without  standing  up,  with  one  of  his  own  gentlemen,  in  the 
third  act." 

After  a  brief  sojourn,  the  slender  young  prince,  who  looked 
older  than  his  years   (twenty-nine),  left  town   with  his  bride,  for 
Harwich.     Bride  and  bridegroom   travelled  in  different  coaches, 
with  three  or  four  silent  and  solemn  attendants  in  each.     Never 
did  newly-married  couple   travel  so  sillily  unsociable.     The  fare- 
well speech,  too,  of  the  bridegroom,  ere  he  went  on  board,  rang 
more  of  war  than  of  love.  .  He  had  already,  he   said,  bled  in  the 
cause  of  England,  and  would  again.     In  this,  he  kept  his  word,  for 
he  was  the  Duke  of  Brunswick,  who  fell  gloriously  at  Jena,  at  the 
age  of  three-score  years  and  eleven,  subsidized  by  Great  Britain, 
and  unthanked  by  ever-ungrateful  Prussia,  so  deservedly  punished 
for  her  habitual  double-dealing,  on  that  terrible  day. 

As  bride  and  bridegroom  travelled  from  the  court  to  the  coast, 
in  two  coaches,  so  now  did  they  traverse  the  seas  in  two  separate 
yachts.  No  wonder  they  were  storm-tost.  Such  a  sight  must 
have  been  more  bitter  to  the  son  of  Saturn  and  Ops  than  the  gaU 
which  the  Roman  soothsayers  offered  at  his  altar.     Their  passage 


CAROLINE   OF   BRUNSWICK. 


203 


from  Holland,  where  they  landed,  to  their  home  in  Brunswick,  was 
quite  an  ovation.  The  little  courts  in  their  route  did  them  ample 
honor ;  there  were  splendid  receptions,  and  showy  reviews,  and 
monster  b  ittms  at  which  ten  thousand  hares,  and  winged  game  in 
proportion,  were  slaughtered  in  one  morning ;  after  which,  in  the 
evening,  the  slayers  all  ai)peared  at  the  opera  in  their  hunting, 
dresses!  Finally,  the  "happy  couple,"  arrived  at  Brunswick, 
where  the  various  members  of  the  ducal  family  greeted  their  ar- 
rival, and— no  less  a  person  than  the  Countess  of  Yarmouth,  the 
Walmoden  of  George  H.,  the  mistress  of  the  bride's  grandfather, 
bade  them  welcome.  Surely  etiquette  is  the  name  of  the  monster 
which  strains  at  gnats  and  swallows  camels ! 

In  such  way  were  married  the  "  Lady  Augusta,"  daughter  of 
Frederick,  Prince  of  Wales,  and  Charles  William  Frederick,  He- 
reditary Prince  of  Brunswick.  Of  this  marriage  were  born  two 
most  unhappy  women:  Charlotte,  in  December,  1764;  and  Caro- 
line, in  May,  17G8.  There  were  also  four  sons:  Charles,  born  in 
1767;  George  in  1769;  William  in  1771;  and  Leopold  in  the 
following  year.  Of  these,  two  died  gloriously  ;  the  first  fell  in 
battle  at  the  head  of  the  Black  Brunswickers,  on  the  bloody  field 
of  Quatre  Bras  ;  the  last  perished  not  less  gloriously  in  an  attempt 
to  save  the  lives  of  several  persons,  when  the  river  Oder  burst  ite 
banks,  in  1785.  Of  this  family,  although  we  may  mention  all  its 
members  incidentally,  we  have  only  especially  to  do  with  the  sec- 
ond daughter  Caroline  Amelia  Elizabeth,  ultimately  queen  consort 
of  our  George  IV. 

"  In  what  country  is  the  lion  to  be  found  ?"  asked  her  governess, 
after  a  lesson  in  natural  history.  "  Well,"  answered  the  little 
Princess  Caroline,  "  I  should  say,  you  may  find  him  in  the  heart 
of  a  Brunswicker !"  In  these  sort  of  dashing  replies  the  girl  de- 
lighted. She  was  as  much  charmed  with  dashing  games.  In  the 
sport  of  the  "  ring,"  in  which  the  aimers  at  that  small  object  are 
mounted  on  wooden  horses  fixed  on  a  circular  fmme,  she  was  re- 
markably expert.  On  one  occasion,  when  she  was  flying  round 
w  ith  something  more  than  common  rapidity,  one  of  her  attendants 
expressed  fear  of  the  possible  consequences.  "  A  Brunswicker 
dwes  do  anything !"  exclaimed  the  undaunted  Caroline ;  adding, 


204 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS   OF   ENGLAND. 


**  A  Brunswicker  does  not  know  that  thing,  fear."  The  sport  and 
comment  may  be  considered  vulgar ;  but  in  the  first,  Maria  The- 
resa delighted,  too,  and  was  as  independent  and  fearless  as  Caroline. 
The  greater  heroine  perhaps  may  lend  refinement  to  the  game.  In 
other  respects,  the  education  of  Caroline  was  a  verylmperfect 
one. 

Accustomed  to  enjoy  a  place,  even  when  very  young,  at  her 
father's  table,  she  early  acquired  a  habit  of  self-possession,  became 
as  pert  as  young  Cyrus,  and  as  froward  as  the  juvenile  Wharton. 
"  How  would  you  define  time  and  space  ?'  said  her  father,  once,  to 
Mirabeau.  The  Princess  Caroline,  then  twelve  years  old,  antici- 
pated the  witty  Frenchman's  answer,  hy  replying,  "  Space  is  in 

the  mouth  of  Madame  von  L ,  and  time  is  in  her  face."     When 

told  that  it  was  not  fitting  for  so  young  a  lady  to  have  an  opinion 
of  her   own,  she    observed,   correctly  enough,   ''People   without 
opinions  of  their  own  are  like  those  barren  tracts  which  will  not 
bear  grass."     As  her  mother  seldom  asked  any  other  question  than 
"  What  is  the  news  ?"  and  loved  the  small  gossip  which  arises  out 
of  such  a  query,  the  princess  was  more  frequently  engaged  in  seri- 
ous discussions   with    her   instructresses  than   with   the  duchess. 
The  Countess  von  Bade  having  remarked  that  she  herself  wai 
wicked,  because  an  evil  spirit  impelled  her,  and  that  she  was,  by 
nature,  too  feeble  to  resist,  -  U  that  be  the  case,"  observed  the 
free-thinking  young  lady,  "you  are  simply  a  piece  of  clay  moulded 
by  another's  will."     The  orthodox  Lutheran  lady  was  about  to 
explain,  but  the  daughter  of  a  mother  who  had  brought  "  her 
girls"  up  to  membership  with  no  church  in  particular,"cut  short 
the  controversy,  with  an  infallible  air  that  would  have  done  credit 
to  Pope  Joan,  "  My  dear ;  we  are  all  bad—very  bad ;  but  we  were 
all  created  so,  and  it's  no  fiiult  of  ours."     The  utterer  of  this  speech 
was  doubly  unfortunate :    her  intellect   was  fine,  but  it  was  ill- 
trained  ;  she  was  the  daughter  of  a  kind-hearted  woman,  incapable 
of  fulfilling,  with  propriety,  the  duty  of  a  mother;  and  she  became 
the  wife  of  a  prince  who  was,  as  Sheridan  remarked,  '•  too  much  a 
lady's  man  ever  to  become  the  man  of  one  lady." 

The  princess,  at  a  very  eariy  period,  discovered  how  to  be  mis- 
tress of  her  weak  mother.     Therewith,  however,  she  had  a  heart 


CAROLINE   OF   BRUNSWICK. 


205 


that  readily  felt  for  the  poor,  was  terribly  self-willed,  and  played 
the  harpsichord  like  St.  Cecilia. 

Her  thoughtlessness  was  on  a  par  with  her  sensibility ;  and  it  is 
said  that  a  very  early  seclusion  from  court,  to  which  she  was  con- 
demned by  parental  command,  was  caused  by  a  double  want  of 
discretion.  She  was  too  fond,  it  was  reported,  of  relieving  young 
peasants  in  distress,  and  of  listening  to  young  aides-de-camp  who 
affected  to  be  miserable.  She  was  taught  that  princesses  were 
never  their  own  almoners,  and  that  it  did  not  become  them  to  con- 
verse with  officers  of  low  degree.  On  her  return  to  court,  an  aged 
lady,  whose  years  were  warrant  tor  her  boldness,  recommended  an 
exercise,  in  future,  of  more  judgment  than  had  marked  the  past. 
"  Gone  is  gone,  and  will  never  return,"  was  the  remark  of  the 
pretty,  sententious,  young  lady,  "  and  what  is  to  come  will  come 
of  itself"  It  was  the  remark  of  a  girl  brought  up  like  that  very 
"  Polly  Honeycomb,"  whose  story  Colman  wrote,  and  Miss  Burney 
read,  to  Queen  Charlotte.  Like  that  heroine,  the  Princess  Caro- 
line had  not  the  wisest  of  parents.  Like  her,  she  was  addicted  to 
romance,  and  was  too  ready  to  put  in  practice  all  that  romances 
teach,  and  to  enter  into  correspondence  and  associations  at  once 
pleasant  and  dangerous.  Again  and  again  was  forced  seclusion 
adopted  as  the  parental  remedy  to  cure  a  wayward  daughter  of 
too  much  warmth  of  heart  and  too  little  gravity  of  head. 

Her  heart,  however,  would  not  beat  warmly  at  the  bidding  of 
every  new  suitor.  An  offer  was  made  to  her,  when  very  young, 
by  a  scion  of  the  house  of  Mecklenburgh,  whose  oflTer  was  sup- 
ported by  both  the  parents  of  Caroline.  That  princess  ridiculed 
the  lover,  and  flatly  refused  the  honor  presented  for  her  accept- 
ance. She  similarly  declined  the  oflfers  of  the  Prince  of  Orange 
and  Prince  George  of  Darmstadt.  Her  father  was  now  reigning 
Duke  of  Brunswick,  burning  with  desire  to  destroy  the  French 
Republic,  and  eager  to  obtain  a  consort  for  his  daughter.  He 
cannot  be  said  to  have  succeeded  much  more  happily  in  the  latter 
than  in  the  former.  As  for  this  daughter,  she  would  herself  have 
been  happier,  in  those  days  when  her  education — or  no  education — 
was  scrambled  through,  had  she  possessed  any  religious  princi- 
ples.    But,  she  was  like  other  German  princesses,  who,  as  it  was 


206 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS    OF  ENGLAND. 


CAROLINE   OF   BRUNSWICK. 


207 


not  known  into  what  royal  families  they  might  have  the  good-luck 
to  mary — Russo- Greek,  Roman  Catholic,  or  Protestant — were 
taught  morality  (and  that  but  indifferently)  in  place  of  faith  and  a 
reason  for  holding  it.  One  consequence  was,  that  they  deferred 
believing  anything  convincedly  until  they  were  espoused; — and 
then  they  joined  their  husband's  church,  and  remained  precisely 
"what  they  were  before. 

The  princess  was  in  something  like  this  state  of  suspense ;  and 
her  sire  was  in  a  state  not  very  dissimilar  with  regard  to  the  part 
he  should  take  in  the  war  of  Germany  against  France,  when  the 
Duke  of  York,  commander  of  the  English  force  in  Holland,  des- 
tined to  act  bravely  inefficient  against  the  French,  visited  the  ducal 
court  of  Brunswick.  He  is  said  to  have  been  very  favorably  im- 
pressed with  the  person  and  attainments  of  the  Princess  Caroline; 
and  it  has  been  supposed  that  his  ftivorable  report  of  her  first  led 
the  king,  his  father,  to  think  of  the  daughter  of  "the  Lady 
Augusta"  as  a  wife  for  his  son,  George. 

It  will  have  been  already  seen,  in  a  preceding  page,  that  the 
king  was  more  than  ordinarily  anxious  for  the  marriage  of  his  son, 
and  that  the  latter  was  made  to  perceive  that,  however  his  affec- 
tions may  have  been  engaged,  it  was  his  interest  to  marry  in  obedi- 
ence to  the  king's  wishes.  He  was  overwhelmed  with  debts,  and 
payment  of  these  was  promised  as  the  price  of  his  consent.  The 
wildest  stories  have  been  told  with  regard  to  the  share  which  the 
prince  took  in  furthering  his  own  marriage.  Some  say  that  he 
especially  selected  the  Princess  Caroline  of  Brunswick,  as  the  lady 
he  had  resolved  to  marry :  others  affirm  that,  while  coldly  con- 
senting to  espouse  her,  h%  wrote  her  a  letter,  expressive  of  his 
real  feelings,  and  not  at  all  flattering  to  those  of  his  proposed  wife. 
The  latter  is  said  to  have  replied  to  this  apocryphal  letter  with 
spirit,  and  to  have  declared  her  readiness  to  incur  all  risks,  and 
her  resolution  to  win  the  heart  which  now  affected  to  be  careless 
of  her.  Due  notice  was  given  to  parliament  of  the  coming  event, 
and  a  dutiful  and  congratulatory  reply  was  made  by  that  auf'ust 
assembly. 

The  king  knew  nothing  of  his  niece  but  by  report ;  but  he  was 
resolved  that  the  union,  upon  which  he  had  now  determined,  and 


I 


I 


a' 


t 


to  which  he  was  engaged  by  his  message  to  parliament,  should 
take  place,  be  the  princess  of  what  quality  she  might.  He  had 
himself  married  under  similar  circumstances,  and  nothing  had 
come  of  it  but  considerable  felicity,  and  a  very  numerous  family. 

The  able  and  renowned  diplomatist.  Lord  Malmesbury,  having 
received  the  instructions  of  the  king  to  demand  the  hand  of  the 
Princess  Caroline  of  Brunswick  for  the  Prince  of  Wales,  pro- 
ceeded to  the  duchy — a  lover  by  proxy,  to  perform  his  mission. 
He  had  no  discretionary  })owers  allowed  him.  That  is,  although 
little  was  known  of  the  princess  at  the  English  court,  he  was  not 
commissioned  to  give  any  information  to  that  court  which  might 
have  ultimately  saved  two  persons  from  being  supremely  miser- 
able. He  was  commissioned  to  fetch  the  princess.  The  fitness 
of  the  princess  was  the  last  thing  thought  of.  Surely  there  never 
was  anything  so  lumbering  and  so  ridiculous — so  opposite  to 
nature  and  common  sense — so  stripped  of  all  that  is  due  to  young 
hearts — as  the  matrimonial  transactions  of  princes.  The  bride 
herself  used  often  to  say,  in  after-life,  to  the  attendants — who, 
Avhile  they  served,  sneered  at  her — that,  had  she  only  been  allowed 
to  have  paid  a  visit  to  England,  to  have  first  made  the  acquaint- 
ance of  the  prince,  what  a  world  of  misery  they  might  both  have 
been  spared  !  The  fact  was,  there  was  no  time  to  be  lost.  All 
the  marriageable  princesses  in  Germany  were  learning  English, 
for  the  express  purpose  of  bettering  their  chances  of  becoming 
Princess  of  Wales.  They  all  waited  for  an  offer ;  and  that  offer, 
after  all,  was  made  to  a  princess  who  had  not  made  the  English 
language  her  particular  study. 

The  hymeneal  envoy  reached  Brunswick  on  the  28th  of  Novem- 
ber, 1794.  He  was  received  with  as  hilarious  a  welcome  as  that 
which  was  given  to  the  Earl  of  Macclesfield  at  Hanover,  when  he 
appeared  there  with  the  Act  of  Settlement  which  opened  the 
throne  of  England  to  the  Electoral  family.  There  was  the  same 
hospitality,  the  same  offer  of  service,  and  the  business  was  opened, 
as  so  much  earthly  business  is,  with  a  grand  banquet  at  court,  on 
the  same  night,  at  which  Lord  Malmesbury  saw  the  future  Queen 
of  England  for  the  first  time.  She  was  embarrassed  on  being  pre- 
sented to  him,  but  the  experienced  diplomatist  was  not  so.     He 


208 


I 


LIVKS  OF  THE  QUEEKS  OF  ENGLAND. 


looked  at,  and  studied  the  appearance  of  the  princes.,  and  he  saw 
a  pretty  face-not  expressive  of  softness;  her  fiRure  not  grace- 
ful; fine  eyes;  good  hair;  tolerable  teeth,  but  going;  fair  l.air. 
and  hght  eyebrows ;  good  bust ;  short ;  with  what  the  French  call 

lahons.      Th,s  .s  as  concise  as  if  the  observer  had  been  makin" 
out  the  princess  s  passport,  and  drawing  up  her  «>a&w„<.    She 
was,  at  the  time,  a  pretty  woman,  she  had  delicately-formed  fea- 
tures, and  her  complexion  was  good.     We.  who  can  only  remem- 
ber her  as  s^.e  appeared  when  on  her  last  visit  to  England,  in  the 
House  of  Peers,  at  Alderman  Wood's  window,  or  at  the  balcony 
of  Brandenburgh  House.  wi,h  features  swollen  and  disfir^ured  bv 
sorrow  and  an  irregular  life,  can  have  no  idea  of  how  she  looked 
n  her  youth.    Her  eyes  were  described  then  as  being  quick,  pcne- 
tratmg  and  glancing ;  they  were  shaped  .„  a.nande,  as  the  French 
express  the  most  beautifi.l  sh..pe  the  oyo,  can  assume;  and  they 
were  moreover  not  merely  beautiful,  bu,  expressive.     Her  mouth 
was  delicately  formed;  she  could  be  noble  and  dignified  when  she 
chose,  or  occasion  required  it.     It  might  be  said  that  her  only  de- 
fect, personally  consisted  in  her  head  being  rather  too  large,  and 
her  neck  ,00  short.     But  setting  this  .aside,  there  was  a  ^r 
defect  st,l .  though  it  was  one  not  uncommon  to  the  ladies'of  2 

Josav  tlL    h         ""'"^  """""^   "■'"   ""'   ^"Perfluously  clean. 
th,nT„  ,r  '"  ^"P*^'-«''*'"^  «•<>»''''  P-haps,  be  even  more 

than  truth  would  warrant     As  for  her  mother,  that  Princess  Au- 

s.o„,  and  who  had  been,  in  her  time,  so  "parlous"  a  child.  Lord 
Malmesbury  found  her  full  of  nothing,  bu,  her  daughter's  ma  rt"^ 
and  ta^kmg  mcessantly.  Her  talk  was  no,  of  the  wisest,  partict 
larly  ,f  she  mdulged  in  it,  in  presence  of  her  daughter,  for  part  of 
It  consisted  m  abuse  of  Queen  Charlotte,  the  future  mother-in-law 
of  Augusta's  child.  It  was  as  mal-apropo,  as  her  takin..  in  her 
younger  days,  Sir  Robert  Rich  for  Sir  Robert  Walpole,  and  asking 
him  very  impertinent  questions,  while  she  was  laboring  under  ,hat 

^Lrr;-?-     ""'^  '-''''''  -^^^  °^  Q--  Chanotte  ast 
enT,ou=  and  intriguing  spirit;  aUeged  that  she  had  exhibited  that 


CAROLINE   OF  BRU.N'SWI6k. 


209 


^ 


i 


8[)irit  as  soon  as  she  arrived  in  England,  and  that  she  was  an 
enemy  of  lier  mother,  the  Princess  of  Wale.s,  as  well  as  of  herself, 
Augu.sta.  She  accused  the  queen  of  having  been  exceedingly 
jealous  of  the  Princess  Dowager  of  Wales,  and  also  of  herself,  the 
new  Duchess  of  Brunswick.  She  added  that  the  queen  had  so 
little  feeling,  that  while  the  Princess  of  Wales  was  dying,  her  ma- 
jesty took  advantage  of  the  moment  to  alter  the  rank  of  her  high- 
ness's  ladies  of  the  bed-chamber.  The  duchess's  judgment  of  King 
George,  her  brother,  was  that  he  was  more  kind-hearted  than  wise- 
headed,  which  was  not  far  from  the  truth. 

But  the  duchess  was  most  eloquent  upon  the  projected  marriage, 
the  virtues  of  her  daughter,  and  the  care  which  had  been  taken  by 
precept  and  example,  to  establish  such  virtues  in  Caroline.  The 
duchess  had  very  excellent  ideas  as  to  the  duties  of  a  mother-in- 
law,  as  appears  from  her  expressed  resolution  never  to  interfere  in 
the  household  of  the  newly-married  royal  couple.  Indeed  the  idea 
of  visiting  P^ngland,  at  all,  was  odious  to  her.  If  she  were  to  re- 
pair thither,  she  was  sure,  she  said,  that  her  visit  would  result  in 
discomfort  to  herself,  and  a  jealousy  and  vexation  excited  against 
her  in  the  hearts  of  others.  Poor  lady,  she  did  not  foresee  that  a 
dozen  years  later  she  would  be  a  fugitive  from  Brunswick,  seeking 
an  asylum  in  England,  after  forty  years'  absence,  and  enacting  one 
of  those  unsceptered  sovereigns  of  whom  there  were  so  many  flying 
to  and  fro  in  Europe,  that  when  the  mother  of  "George  Sand" 
encountered  the  Queen  of  P^truria  hurrying  from  her  pocket  king- 
dom to  a  place  of  imaginary  safety,  she  exclaimed,  Voila  encore 
une  reins  qui  s'etifuitf     ''There  is  another  queen  running  away !" 

The  duchess  affected  to  treat  the  marriage  of  her  daughter  with 
the  Prince  of  Wales  as  perfectly  unexpected  by  her,  but  as  she 
added,  that  "  she  never  could  give  the  idea  to  Caroline,"  we  may 
fairly  .suppose  that  the  thought  of  such  a  thing  being  ix).ssible  had 
really  entered  for  a  moment  into  her  own  mind.  George  III., 
however,  had  been  accustomed  to  speak  disapprovingly  of  the  mar- 
riage of  cousins-german,  and  with  good  reason.  It  is  only  to  be 
regretted  that  he  did  not  act  in  accordance  with  his  own  expressed 
opinions  on  this  point.  It  may  be  noted  as  a  strange  fact,  that  the 
prelate  who  performed  the  mai'riage  ceremony,  which  made  of  the 


210 


LIVES   OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  EXGLAXD. 


I 


two  cousins,  so  closely  akin  bv  blood,  man  and  wife,  would  have 
been  very  much  shocked  had  he  been  asked  to  do  the  same  office 
for  a  man  about  to  marry  the  sister  of  his  deceased  wife,  and  with 
whom  he  had  not  the  slightest  blood  relationship. 

The  duchess,  as  has  already  been  remarked,  spoke  of  her  brother, 
George  III.,  as  having  more  amiabihtv  than  intellect.  Jf  amia- 
bility mean  the  i>ower  of  loving  othei-s.  she  very  much  qualified 
the  remark  by  observing,  that  "He  loved  her  verv  much,  as  icell 
as  he  could  lore  anybody r  an  equivocal  phrase,  which  is  made  clear 
enough  by  the  context :  for  the  duchess  added,  that  her  Ion-  ab- 
sence, and  his  thirty  yeai-s  of  intercourse  with  Queen  Charlotte, 
had  caused  him  to  forget  the  sister  whom  he  loved,  a.  much  as  he 
could  love  anvbodv. 

The  court  of  this  duchess,  who  had  been  so  anxious  to  make  of 
virtue  a  fixed  possession  for  her  daughter,  was  not  a  court  where 
virtue  Itself  was  a  fixed  resident.     The  mistres.  of  the  duke  was 
quite  as  important  a  lady  there,  as  the  duchess;  and  vet  the  lady 
herself,  or  one  of  those  who  held  the  post  which  was  shared  bv 
many,  had  the  sense  to  be  a  trifle  ashamed  of  her  position.     The 
trait  is  worth  noticing.     Her  name  was  Hertzfeldt.     She  had  en- 
nobled the  name  by  putting  a  de  before  it,  but  she  had  not  dan-d 
utx)n  the  prefix  of  the  Teutonic  Von.     Lord  Malmesburv  thu.  no- 
tices  her.     -  In  the  evening  with  Mademoiselle  de  HertzVeldt-old 
Berlin  acquaintance,  duke's  mistress-much  altered,  but  still  clear 
and  agreeable;   full  of  lamentations  and  fears;    her  apartments 
elegantly  furnished,  and  she  herself  with  all  the  appareil  of  her 
situation ;  she  was  at  first  rather  ashamed  to  see  mr-.  bur.  .he  soon 
got  over  it." 

Mademoiselle  de  Hertzfeldt.  too,  was  among  tho-e  who  were 
anxious  that  the  Princess  Caroline  should  be  worthv  of  the  po^i- 
tion  now  open  to  her.  This  was  a  strange  entourage\or  the  bride  • 
and  there  were  both  strange  people  and  strange  things  at  thi.  ducal 
court.  Some  of  the  names  of  the  officials  and  resident.  caU  up 
memories  of  the  past.  There  was  a  Count  Schulemberg  amon- 
the  former.  We  hear  also  of  a  Herr  von  Walmoden.  the  son  of 
tbat  "Master  Louis,"  whose  mother  was  "the  Walmoden"  of 
whom  George  II.  made  a  Countess  of  Yarmouth,  and  whose  father 


CAROLINE   OF  BRUNSWICK. 


211 


/ 


:   I 


was  that  royal  sovereign  himself.  There  was  also  an  exemplary 
couple  in  the  court  circle.  Herr  and  Frau  von  Waggenheim,  of 
whom  indeed  little  is  said,  save  that  the  gentleman  drank,  and  that 
the  lady  thought  the  example  worth  following.  This  was  but  an 
indifferent  jilace  from  which  to  select  a  future  Queen  of  England, 
but  depraved  as  the  court  wa<,  there  were  others  more  so,  from 
which,  nevertheless,  princesses  had  gone  to  be  honored  wives,  and 
virtuous  matrons,  in  other  circles. 

The  ducal  family  were  never  so  well-pleased  as  when  they  could 
get  the  envoy  from  the  bridegroom  in  one  of  their  own  little  cote^ 
ries,  and  there  it  was  the  delight  of  the  duchess  to  make  much  of 
him,  and  inundate  him  with  stories  of  by-gone  times.  She  was 
particularly  pleased  to  tell  anything  disparaging  of  Queen  Char- 
lotte. That  her  brother.  King  George,  had  on  her  marriage,  pre- 
sented her  with  a  handsome  diamond  rinsr,  as  a  wedding  srift. 
This  generosity  rendered  the  queen  i^eevish  and  jealous,  and  her 
majesty  is  said  to  have  actually  wished  that  the  gift  should  be  re- 
called, and  conferred  upon  herself.  In  such  tales  the  duchess 
delighted,  and  she  had  an  attentive  listener. 

To  him  she  further  told  that  the  king  had  proposed  to  marry 
one  of  his  daughters  to  her  favorite  son,  Charles ;  requiring  only 
that  he  should  first  pay  a  visit  to  England,  a  course  to  which  she 
strongly  objected,  and  apparently  for  very  efficient  reasons  ;  *'  She 
wa-  quite  sure  if  he  was  to  show  himself  none  of  the  princesses 
would  have  him." 

On  the  3rd  of  December,  these  very  small  matters  were  varied 
by  the  arrival  of  Major  Hislop.  who  brought  with  him  the 
portrait  of  the  royal  bridegroom  ;  and  a  private  letter  to  Lord 
Malmesbury  urging  him  "  most  vehemeyitly  to  set  out  with  the 
Princess  Caroline  immediately.'* 

And  thereupon,  on  the  8th  December,  1794,  followed  the 
marriage,  whereat  the  vehement  lover  appeared  only  by  proxy. 
All  parties  behaved  with  due  decorum.  The  paternal  and 
warrior  duke,  a  man  infirm  of  purporC,  was  rather  embar- 
rassed, but  perfoi-med  his  office  with  dignity.  The  duchess 
was  of  course  overcome,  and  shed  tears.  The  bride  herself 
was  affected,  as  maiden  well  might  be,  at  a  rite  which  took  her 


212 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEEXS  OF  ENGLAND. 


from  a  home  where  she  had  enjoyed  the  highest  possible   free- 
dom, and  wh,eh  flung  her  on   the   bosom   of  a    husband  wl^e 

r^mir  '  "^""^  *"  ''''""*  "^°  '^'y  ^'^  "^^^d  to 

The  wedding-day  was  spent  in  a  remarkably  comfortable  style 
of  eelebrafon      Firs,,  after  the  ceremony,  there  was  an  early  l„d 
«^"  immense     dinner.     Then  a  grand  court  was  held,  at  which 
fec.,at,„ns  were  made  to  the  new  Princess  of  Wales.     This  wa 
fo  lowed  by  grave  whist  for  the  older  aristocrats,  and  gayer  ™ 
for  the  younger  people,  addicted  to  more  liveliness.     LastTal 
came  a  great  supper,  but  how  the  terrible  meal  was  got  through 
the  court  lustonans  do  not  say.     We  only  learn  that  durinri' 
progress  of  the  banquet.  Lord  Malmesbury  informed  the  Dale  of 

fndT      t   f  """•"  "'■""  '^''"'-'^  °f  "•«  prince's  leter 

parture  w„h  the  .mpat.ently-expected  bride.     He  of  course  sun 

inlJZtlTr"  T'  y  T"  =  ^•""  ^"""-^  P^-l-'y  decide 
in     wrong  «  aj .       It  was  leavmg  Lord  Malmesbury  ample  power. 

of  wh,ch  he  was  anxious  to  avail  myself;  but  he  had  much  ."do 
with  and  for  the  bride,  before  he  led  her  safely  to  the  asvlun,  nf 
her  husband's  cold  hearth.  ^  ^  ""  °^ 

The  bride  was,  meantime,  herself  anxious  to  depart  to  her  new 
home;  her  mother,  fussy,  fond,  and  agitated,  was  deil  To T 
company  her  a  par.  of  the  way  ;  and  £ord  Malm  sbln    who  had 
been   honored  with  the  gift  of  a  "snu(r-lK,v"   n,      "'^^' ""°  """d 
of  pinchbeck  for  any  account  tlL  is  X™  of    le   m"a.       I  ."" 
the  duke,  and  a  diamond  watch  froml  e  pr  n^rs."      "t If  T 
wllmg  to  get  to  the  end  of  hi.  mission.     There  was    he  "        !• 
Pnnce  too,  in  London  ;  but  the  diplomatil  1.^:  s  ^Ztm 
tie   k,ng,   and   rather  obeyed   the   precise  and  deliberate  o^" 
o^f  the  monarch,  than  the  urgemly  gallant  appeals  offprint: 

andul'T'''?*""'  ''•'  "''"'"'"'  '™»<^  drawn  „p  in  English 
Latm-French  was  prohibited,  by  ..yal  order-wL  signed  by 


CAROLINE   OF   BRUNSWICK. 


213 


all  the  high  contracting  parties  on  the  4th  of  December.  After 
the  pleasant  labor,  there  followed  a  sumptuous  banquet,  and  the 
envoy  and  duchess  announced  to  the  bridegroom  at  home,  that  his 
bride  would  set  out  on  the  11th,  provided  by  that  time  intelligence 
was  received  of  the  sailing  from  England  of  the  fleet  which  was 
to  serve  for  a  wedding  escort  across  the  sea. 

The  Duke  of  Brunswick  was  a  man  who,  whenever  he  asserted 
that  he  was  going  to  speak  to  you  with  perfect  frankness,  was 
really  about  to  treat  you  with  anything  but  candor.  Even  in  his 
breast,  however,  the  feelings  of  the  father  were  not  always  dor- 
mant ;  and  occasionally  he  manifested  considerable  perception  with 
regard  to  the  true  nature  of  his  daughter's  position.  "  He  was 
perfectly  aware,"  says  Lord  Malmesbury,  '*  of  the  character  of  the 
prince,  and  of  the  inconveniences  that  would  result  with  almost 
equal  ill  effect,  either  from  his  liking  the  princess  too  much  or  too 
little."  The  duke  was  as  thoroughly  cognizant  of  the  peculiar  dis- 
position of  Queen  Charlotte,  and,  curiously  enough,  "  he  never 
mentioned  the  king."  The  paternal  comment  on  his  own  daughter 
was  thoroughly  impartial  :  "  She  is  not  a  fool,"  said  he,  "  but  she 
has  no  judgment ;  and  she  has  been  severely  brought  up,  as  was 
very  necessary  with  her."  He  knew  well  where  peril  lay,  and,  to 
do  him  justice,  he  did  his  little  best  to  save  his  daughter  from 
the  danger. 

The  severity  of  the  education  of  the  princess  was  only  imagi- 
nary; or,  if  it  had  existed,  it  had  been  entirely  ineffective.     We 
may  judge  of  this,  by  remarking  what  the  duke  begged  of  the 
envoy, — to  recommend  to  the  princess,  discretion  ;  to  pray  of  her 
not  to  be  curious,  nor  free  in  giving  her  opinions  aloud  upon  indi- 
viduals and  things — a  fault  which  this  severely-trained  young  lady 
inherited  from  her  mother,  who,  throughout  her  life,  had'^been 
given  to  "  appeler  un  chat,  im  cAa^'"  and  who  was    excessively 
free,  easy,  and  loud-tongued  in  her   dissertations  upon  both  men 
and  manners.     The  poor  duke  probably  thought  of  the  mother, 
too,  when    he   asked    Lord  Malmesbury  to  advise   his  daughter 
never  to  be  jealous  of  her  husband,  and  "  if  he  had  any  goiUs,  not 
to  notice  them."     The  duke  added  that  he  had  written  all   this 
down  in  German  for  his  daughter's  benefit,  but  he  thought  it  would 


214 


LIVES  OF  THE    QUEENS  OP  ENGLAND. 


be  none  the  worse  for  being  repeated  orally  by  Lord  Malme.bury. 
These  audiences  and  con.nlta.ion.  of  the  morning  were  succeed^l 
by  doners  and  opc-ra.  i„  the  evening,  and  the  Princes.  Caroline 
was  of  course  the  heroine  of  eitlur  festival 

A  cynic  might  have  laughed,   a   more'  religions  philosopher 
would  have  s,ghed,  at  the  further  illustration  ^f  the  severiTo 
manners  at  the  ducal  court,  and  the  '-serene"  anxietv  for"  the 

sonrhrmi  ;"'    .  "'  "-•'>-'"--J  P--SS.    The  duke  .acuali; 
sent  h.s  mistress  o  engage  Lord  Malmesbno"  to  set  the  bride  in  a 
nght  path.     Mademoiselle  de  Hert.feldt  represented  to  the  en! 
voy,  the  necessity  of  being  very  slricf  with  the  ,„ince«      The 
courtesan  champion  of  morality  repesented  the  duke's  dau-^hler 
as  not  clever,   neither  was  she  ill-disposed;  "but  of  a  temper 
easdy  wrought  on,  and  had  no  >aH.'-     The  good  lady  thought  ,Lt 
he  envoy  sadvce  „-ould  have  more  effect  than  the  paternal  coun- 
sel ,  as,     although  the  princess  respected  him,  she  also  feared  him, 
as  a  severe  rather  than  an  aff-ec.ionate  father ;   that  she  had  no 

dared.       ^o  more  terr.ble  testimony  c-ould  be  rendered  a^inst 
a  daughter  than  this.     For  if  a  girl  love  no.  her  mother,  ,W,om 
shall  she  ever  Tove  ?   and  if  she  hide  not  her  disregard  frmn  tZ 
mother  whom    she   cannot   in   her  heart    honor,  whom  «"l       le 
ever  truly  regard  ?     The  mother's  hear,  has  the  elain,  to  the  fn.! 
homage  from  everj-  child,  and  evil  is  that  child's  heart  who  le.s  a 
stranger  perceive  that  there  is  anything  hollow  i„   the  homage. 
1   may  be  added  here  that  the  princess  was  as  anxious  in   im- 
plormg  guidance  and  direction  from  Lord  Malmesbury,  as  anv  of 
her  re  atnes  ;  and  she  was  probably  cpn'te  as  sincere  in  askin^  for 
counsel.  «  ^"^ 

s«nt.'   H-T""  rt    '"^^"-    '■"'"■"■'    '■'"*'    "P"™'     «'•«■•«    "as     th. 

ame   d.et   and  the  same  song.     FoHr  hou,-s  of  a  morning,  the 
paternal  admomfons  were  poured  into  the  bride's  ear ;  and  for 
hou..  of  an  e,-ening,  Lord  Malmesbury  had  to  listen    ,o  will 
the  pnncess  had  been  told.     The  advice  was  good  of  its   ,o« 
but  us  constant  repetition  shows  that  the  duke   had  ^rea    fours' 

ouclnng  Ins   daughter's  character.     The   duke  wisheSTo  .lake 
Uer  feel  .-  that  the  high  situation  in  which  she  was  going  Tte 


CAROLINE   OF  BRUNSWICK. 


215 


placed,  was  not  simply  one  of  amusement  and  enjoyment  ;  that 
it  had  its  duties,  and  those  perhaps  hard  and  difficult  to  fulfil.'* 
Lord  Malmesburry  was  especially  invoked  not  to  desert  the 
princess  in  England.  The  duke  was  quite  right  in  foreseeing- 
that  future  peril,  and  tchat  future  peril  for  his  daughter,  lay  in 
that  direction.  "  He  dreaded  the  prince's  habits.''  Well  he 
might.  They  were  not  dissimilar  from  his  own ;  and  where  is 
the  hearth  that  shall  know  happiness  when  vice  is  the  lar  to 
which  the  sojourners  round  the  household  hearth  do  homage. 
On  the  very  evening  that  the  duke  told  the  envoy  that  he 
dreaded  the  prince's  habits.  Lady  Eden,  who  had  just  arrived 
at  Brunswick   from   London,  told  Lord  Malmesbury,  that  "  Lady 

,"  meaning,  doubtless.  Lady  Jersey,  '*  was  very  well  with  the 

queen  ;  that  she  went  frequently  to  Windsor,  and  appeared  as  a 
sort  of  favorite."  "This,  if  true,''  says  Lord  Malmesbury,  "is 
most  strange,  and  bodes  no  good."  The  intelligence  seems  to  have 
strongly  impressed  the  envoy  ;  and  when,  in  the  evening,  he  sat 
next  the  Princess  Caroline  at  supfjcr,  he  counselled  her  "  to  avoid 
familiarity,  to  have  no  confdants,  to  avoid  giving  ^ny  opinion,  to 
approve  but  not  to  admire  excessively,  to  be  perfectly  silent  an 

politico  and  party  ;  to  be  very  attentive  and  respectful  to  the  queen 

to  endeavor,  at  all  events,  to  be  well  with  her."  He  was  evidently 
thinking  of  the  rival  that  was  already  well  with  the  queen,  and 
still  better  with  the  prince.  This  condition  of  things  boded  no 
good.  The  prince.<s,  whose  eyes  were  red  with  tears— the  conse- 
quence of  taking  leave  of  some  of  the  dear  young  friends  of  her 
heart— had  good  cause  to  weep  on.  Never  was  bridal  attended  by 
prospect  more  forlorn.  The  bride,  however,  was  as  variable  as  an 
April  day.  On  the  evening  following  that  just  noticed.  Lord 
Malmesbury  records  that  he  sat  "  next  to  Princess  Caroline  at 
table ;  she  improves  very  much  on  closer  acquaintance — cheerful, 
and  loves  laughing." 

The  penalty  of  her  new  position  came  before  her,  too,  in  another 
shape.  She  was  beset  with  applications  for  her  patronage ;  and 
she  was  induced  to  seek  for  Lord  Malmesbury's  aid  to  realise  the 
expectations  of  the  petitioners.  He  at  once  counselled  her  to 
have  nothing  to  do  with  such  matters,  and  to  check  or  stop  solicita- 


216 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


tion  at  once,  by  intimating  that  she  could  not  interfere  in  any  way 
in  England  by  asking  political  or  personal  favors  for  others.  Lord 
Malmesbury  added,  that  if  she  were  sincerely  desirous  to  further 
the  fortunes  of  a  really  deserving  person,  he  would  find  means  to 
enable  her  to  accomplish  what  she  wished.  But  even  then,  it 
were  far  better,  he  said,  not  to  engage  herself  by  any  promise. 
He  added  much  more  of  excellent  admonitory  advice,  in  all  of 
which  the  princess  readily  acquiesced.  He  especially  counselled 
her  to  be  discreet  in  all  her  questions.  She  promised  solemnly 
that  she  would,  and  forthwith  she  began  to  put  some  queries  to 
him  touching  the  prince's  "  favorite."  Not  that  she  knew  Lady 
Jersey  to  be  the  occupier  of  so  bad  an  eminence.  Still  the  ques- 
tion was  indiscreet.  "  She  appeared  to  suppose  her  an  intriguante, 
but  not  to  know  of  any  partiality  or  connection  between  her  and 
the  prince.  I  said,  that  with  regard  to  Lady  ♦  ♦  *  ♦,  she  and  all 
her  other  ladies  would  frame  their  conduct  towaixls  her  by  hers 
towards  them ;  that  I  humbly  advised  her  this  should  not  be  too 
familiar  or  too  easy ;  and  that  it  might  be  affable  without  forgetting 
she  was  Princess  of  Wales  ;  that  she  should  never  listen  to  them 
when  they  attempted  anything  like  a  commerage,  and  never  allow 
them  to  appear  to  influence  her  opinion  by  theirs.  She  said  she 
wished  to  be  popular,  and  was  afraid  I  recommended  her  too  much 
reserve  ;  that  probably  I  thought  her  too  portee  a  se  livrer,  I  said 
I  did ;  that  it  was  an  amiable  quality,  but  one  that  in  her  situation 
could  not  be  given  way  to  without  great  risk  ;  that  as  to  popularity, 
it  never  was  retained  hy  familiarity  ;  that  it  could  only  belong  to 
respect,  and  was  only  to  be  acquired  by  a  just  mixture  of  dignity 
and  affability.     I  quoted  the  queen  as  a  model  in  this  respect."* 

Here  was  admirable  counsel ;  but  we  cannot  help  being  struck 
by  one  thing.  Surely,  princes  who  woo  and  win  by  proxy  are 
more  degraded  than  any  other  class  of  men.  Here  was  an  alleg- 
edly impatient  bridegroom  who  had  never  set  eyes  upon  the  bride. 
To  woo  her  honestly  at  her  father's  hearth ;  to  win  her  triumphantly 
at  the  same  locality ;  to  enjoy  the  dear  delight  which  lesser  men 
enjoy  in  such  a  case,  is  a  privilege  not  given  to  an  heir-apparent. 
At  all  events,  it  is  not  given  to  one  who  chooses  to  be  the  slave  of 

*  Lord  Malmesbury 's  Diary. 


CAROLINE   OF  BRUNSWICK. 


217 


eti(iuctto,  and  make  such  bondage  the  plea  for  not  taking  his  bride 
fiom  the  hand  of  her  father,  and  under  the  paternal  roof.  Of 
wliat  pleai^ant  and  what  })roper  things  are  your  mere  princes  (all 
honor  to  them,  nevertheless)  obliged  to  endure  the  forfeit.  And 
what  degradation  are  they  further  compelled  to  endure.  Let  this 
case  witness.  Here  was  a  bride  not  merely  brought  to  her  bride- 
groom by  the  hand  of  a  sort  of  carrier,  but  he  who  had  the  office 
was  winning,  or  trying  to  win,  her  confidence.  He  was  counselling, 
guiding,  directing.  He  was  for  ever  by  her  side,  listening  to  her 
remarks,  suggesting  where  suggestion  was  required,  and,  in  fact, 
a  lover  in  all  things  save  that  he  had  a  little  more  gravity  and 
severity.  I  would  not  be  a  prince  if  it  were  only  for  this  one 
condition  of  princedom. 

Lord  Malmesbury  thoroughly  understood  the  characters  both  of 
the  Princess  Caroline  and  the  Queen  Cliarlot^e.  Of  the  latter,  the 
princess  exi)ressed  great  fear,  and  added  a  conviction  that  she 
would  be  jealous  of  her,  and  do  her  harm.  On  that  very  account, 
she  was  advised  to  be  scrupulously  attentive  in  rendering  to  this 
terrible  mother-in-law,  as  she  seemed,  every  mark  of  respect  due 
to  her ;  and  the  princess  was  further  counselled  to  set  a  guard 
upon  her  too  prompt  tongue  in  the  queen's  presence,  and  to  be 
especially  careful  not  to  drop  any  light  remarks.  The  bride  pro- 
mised all  slie  was  asked,  and  then  observed,  by  way  of  illustration 
of  her  watchfulness,  that  she  was  quite  aware  that  the  prince  was 
I'ger;  that  she  had  been  prepared  on  that  point,  and  was  deter- 
mined never  to  appear  jealous,  however  much  she  might  be 
provoked.  Her  monitor  commended  the  wisdom  of  a  i*esolution 
which  he  said  he  believed  (but  it  must  have  been  in  a  diplomatic 
sense)  she  would  never  be  called  upon  to  put  in  foj-ce.  Still  more 
diplomatically,  he  added,  that  if  she  ever  did  "  see  any  symptoms 
of  a  gout  in  the  prince,  or  if  any  of  the  women  about  her  should, 
under  the  love  of  fishing  in  troubled  waters,  endeavor  to  excite  a 
'ealousy  in  her  mind,"  he  entreated  her,  "  on  no  account  to  allow 
it  to  manifest  itself."  Sourness  and  reproaches  on  the  part  of  even 
a  young  neglected  wife,  it  was  suggested,  not  only  would  not 
reclaim  a  husband  when  "  tottering  affections  "  might  be  won  back 
by  patient  endurance  and  softness,  but  reproof  and  vexation  would 
Vol.  n.— 10 


218 


LIVES   OF  THE   QUEEXS  OF   ENGLAND. 


only  survive  to  give  additional  value  to  her  rival  and  that  rival's 
charms.  In  short,  my  lord  as  good  as  intimated,  that  if  she  would 
only  re-enact  the  part  of  Griselda,  she  would  please  her  husband ; 
whereas,  if  she  ran  counter  to  his  wishes,  it  *'  would  probably  make 
him  disagreeable  and  peevish,  and  certainly  force  him  to  be  false 
and  dissembling." 

Poor  princess !  the  humblest  girl  who  knows  the  dignity  of  her 
character,  and  how  to  sustain  it,  would  scorn  to  take  the  Iiand  of, 
or  trust  her  destiny  to,  a  man  of  whom  his  best  friend  could  say 
nothing  better  than  what  Lord  Malmesbury  said  of  his  illustrious 
client  the  prince.  The  amiability  of  the  latter  was  very  much  like 
that  of  Croaker  in  the  comedy — there  was  no  one  so  easily  led,  if 
he  were  only  permitted  to  have  his  own  way. 

But,  if  the  English  envoy  enliglitened  the  bride  upon  the  cha- 
racter of  the  prince,  her  father's  mistress,  Mdlle.  de  Hertzfelds, 
was  not  less  liberal  in  tiflbrding  to  Lord  Malmesbury  portraits  of 
the  princess,  drawn  in  all  lights,  and  with  no  lack  of  shadow.     One 
lecture  from  the  "  favorite,"  which  the  envoy  sets  down  in  French, 
deserves  to  be  quoted,  in  spite  of  its  length.     Considering  its  sub- 
ject, and  whence  it  came,  it  sounds  as  if,  of  old,  "  a  vizard  mask 
i'  the  pit"  had  interrupted  the  performances  at  Rich's  theatre,  to 
read  an  essay  upon  virtue.     "  I  conjure  you " — thus  began  the 
anxious  lady—"  I  conjure  you  to  induce  the  prince,  from  the  very 
commencement,  to  make  the  princess  lead  a  retired  life.     She  has 
always  been  kept  in  much  constraint,  and  narrowly  watched,  and 
not  without  cause.     If  she  suddenly  finds  herself  in  the  world,  un- 
checked by  any  restraint,  she  will  not  walk  steadily.     She  has  not 
a  depraved  heart — has  never  done  any   wrong  thing — but   her 
words  are  ever  preceding  her  thoughts.     She  gives  herself  up  un- 
reservedly to  whomsoever  she  happens  to  be  speaking  with ;  and 
thence  it  follows,  even  in  this  little  court,  that  a  meaning  and  an 
intention  are  given  to  her  words  which  never  belonged  to  them. 
How  then  will  it  be  in  England,  where  she  will  be  surrounded,  so 
it  is  said,  by  cunning  and  mtriguing  women,  to  whom  she  will 
deliver  herself  body  and  soul,  if  the  prince  allows  her  to  lead  a 
dissipated  life  in  London,  and  who  will  make  her  say  just  what 
they  please,  and  that  the  more  easily,  as  she  will  speak  of  her  own 


CAROLINE   OF  BRUNSWICK. 


219 


accord,  without  being  conscious  of  what  she  has  uttered.     Besides, 
she  has  much  vanity,  and  though  not  void  of  wit,  she  has  but  little 
principle.     Her  very  head  will  be  turned  if  she  be  too  much 
flattered  or  caressed,  or  if  the  prince  spoil  her ;  and  it  is  quite  as 
essential  that  sh6  should  fear  as  that  she  should  love  him.     It  is 
of  the  utmost  importance  that  he  should  keep  her  closely  curbed ; 
that  he  should  also  compel  her  respect  for  him.     Without, this,  she 
will  assuredly  go  astray !     I  know,"  added  she  to  the  noble  envoy, 
who  wrote  down  her  speech  in  his  Diary  as  soon  as  it  was  deliver- 
ed, "  I  know  that  you  will  not  compromise  me ;  for  I  speak  as  to 
an  old  friend.     I  am  attached  heart  and  soul  to  the  duke.     I  have 
devoted  myself  to,  and  lost  myself  for,  him.     I  have  the  welfare 
of  his  family  at  heart.     He  will  be  the  most  wretched  of  men  if 
his  daughter  does  not  succeed  better  than  her  eldest  sister.     I  re- 
peat, she  has  never  done  anything  that  is  bad ;  but  she  is  without 
judgment,  and  she  has  been  judged  of  accordingly.     I  fear  the 
queen.     The  duchess  here,  who  passes  her  entire  life  in  thinking 
aloud,  or  in  never  thinking  at  all,  does  not  like  the  queen ;  and  she 
has  talked  too  much  about  her  to  her  daughter.     Nevertheless, 
the  ha})piness  of  the  princess  depends  upon  being  well  with  the 
queen ;  and  for  God's  sake,"  exclaimed  the  duke's  devoted  mis- 
tress, who  so  airily  satirised  the  duke's  lawful  wife,  "  say  as  much 
to  her  as  indeed  you  have  done  already.    She  heeds  you  ;  she  finds 
that  you  speak  reason  cheerfully ;  and  you  will  make  more  im- 
pression on  her  than  her  father,  of  whom  she  is  too  much  afraid, 
or  than  her  mother,  of  whom  she  is  not  afraid  at  all." 

That  night,  there  was  a  masquerade  at  the  court  opera  house. 
Amid  the  gay  and  festive  throng,  the  envoy  never  left  the  side 
of  the  bride,  over  whom  it  was  his  mission  to  watch.  He  talked 
with  her  in  a  strain  which  became  so  gay  a  scene  ;  but  on  every 
jest  hung  counsel.  She  was  for  giving  way  to  the  temper  of  the 
entertainment ;  but  as  the  princess  grew  more  hilarious,  and  "more 
mixing,"  he  checked  the  rising  spirit  of  fun,  and  prevented  its  be- 
coming "  fast  and  furious,"  by  treating  her  with  a  vast  outlay  of 
increased  seriousness  and  respect. 

If  there  was  something  strange  in  this  scene,  what  followed  was 
stranger  still.     Mentor  and  maiden  retired  to  a  box  on  the  Balcon, 


220 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


and  there  they  discussed  anew  the  chances  of  domestic  liappiness, 
and  the  rules  by  wliich  it  might  be  accompHshed.  As  minuets 
were  being  statelily  walked  below,  the  envoy  categorically  laid 
down  the  regulations,  observations  of  which  might  purcluise  connu- 
bial felicity.  He  gave  expression  to  an  urgent  wish  that  she  would 
never  miss  going  to  church  on  Sundays,  as  the  king  and  queen  never 
foiled  being  present ;— although,  it  must  be  added,  that  severe  as 
Queen  Charlotte  was  in  strictly  and  formally  attending  divine  wor- 
ship on  the  Sabbath,  the  service  itself  was  no  sooner  over  than  (at 
that  period  of  her  life)  she  proceeded  to  hold  a  drawing-room.  It 
was  one  generally  more  brilhantly  attended  than  that  held  on  the 
Thursdays. 

The  prospect  of  being  compelled  to  attend  church  every  Sunday 
was  but  a  gloomy  view,  it  would  seem,  thus  presented  at  the  very 
gayest  portion  of  the  masquerade.  The  princess  probably  thought 
she  saw  a  way  of  escape;  for  she  inquired  if  the  prince  was  tlms 
strict  in  his  weekly  attendance.  Lord  Malmesbury  dexterously 
replied,  that  if  he  were  not,  she  would  bring  him  to  it ;  and  if  ho 
would  not  go  with  her,  she  would  do  well  to  set  a  good  example 
and  go  without  him.  "  You  must,  in  such  case,"  added  the  bride-train- 
er, « tell  him  that  the  fulfilling  regularly  and  exactly  this  duty  can 
alone  enable  you  to  perform  exactly  and  regularly  those  you  owe 
him.  This  cannot  but  please  him,  and  will  in  the  end  induce  him 
also  to  go  to  church." 

The  princess  evidently  liked  this  part  of  her  prospect  less  and 
less.  We  may  fairly  judge  so  by  her  observation,  that  my  lord 
had  "  made  a  very  serious  remark  for  a  masquerade." 

The  envoy  defended  himself  from  the  attack  made  under  cover 
of  this  insinuation,  and  he  defended  himself  with  gaiety  and  suc- 
cess. The  princess  herself  acknowledged  as  much;  and  Lord 
Malmesbury  rather  naively  observes,  that  after  descanting  to  the 
bride  upon  the  necessity  of  regular  church-going,  when  she  got  to 
England,  he  was  glad  he  had  set  her  thinking  on  the  drawbZhas 
well  as  of  the  agrimens  of  her  situation.  The  attendance  at  church 
was,  in  his  eyes,  a  rather  severe  discipline ;  but,  as  he  so  forcibly 
impressed  on  the  mind  of  his  charge,  *'in  the  order  of  society,  those 
of  a  very  high  rank  have  a  price  to  pay  for  it.     The  life  of  a  Prin- 


CAROLINE   OF  BRUNSWICK. 


221 


cess  of  Wales  is  not  to  be  one  of  pleasure,  dissipation,  and  enjoy- 
ment. The  great  and  conspicuous  advantages  belonging  to  it  must 
necessarily  be  purchased  by  considerable  sacrifices,  and  can  only 
be  preser\'ed  and  kept  uj)  by  a  continual  repetition  of  those  sacri- 
fices."  The  princes^  probably  siglied  as  she  weighed  the  pomp  of 
her  position  against  the  piety  by  which  she  was  to  formally  illus- 
trate it. 

Lord  Malmesbury  could  not  play  the  Mentor  without  the  godless 
wits  of  the  court  treating  him  to  a  little  raillery.  On  the  evening 
when  he  had  been  expatiating  on  the  uses  of  attendance  at  church", 
during  the  noise  and  revelry  of  a  masquerade,  he  encountered  Ma- 
dame de  Waggenheim.  She  was  the  lady  who  "drank,"  and 
whom  the  noble  diarist  sets  down  upon  his  tablets  as  "  absurd,  ri- 
diculous, ill-mannered,  and  michanter  «  How  did  you  find  the 
little  one  ?"  said  she,  alluding  thereby  to  the  princess.  "  Rather 
old  as  she  is,  her  education  is  not  yet  finishedr  My  lord  felt  the 
taunt,  but  parried  it  and  thrust  en  carte,  with  the  remark,  that  "at  an 
age  far  beyond  that  of  her  royal  highness,  there  were  persons  in 
whom  the  education  of  which  he  spoke  had  not  even  begun." 


CHAPTER  n. 


THE   NEW  HOME. 

It  is  to  the  credit  of  the  Princess  Caroline  that  she  took  in  such 
good  part  all  that  Lord  Malmesbury  told  her,  and  that  she  was  de- 
sirous  of  having  him  appointed  her  lord-chamberiain ;  a  prematurely 
expressed  desire  which  did  her  honor,  gratified  theobject  of  it,  and 
was  never  realized.  She,  no  doubt,  respected  him,  for  the  advice 
he  gave  her  was  not  only  parental,  but  much  of  it  might  have  come 
from  a  tender  and  affectionate  mother.  But  her  mother  was  a 
coarse-minded,  cold-hearted  woman,  who  had  little  re-ard  for  pro- 
priety, was  not  affected  by  the  disregard  of  it  in  her  husband,  and 
who  told  stories  at  table,  in  her  daughter's  presence,  that  would 
have  called  up  a  blush  of  shame,  if  not  of  indignation,  on  the  cheek 
ot  a  drao:oon. 


222 


LIVES  OF  THE    QUEENS   OF  ENGLAXD. 


It  was  after  such  stories  that  Lord  Malmesbur}-  particuhirly 
enjoined  the  princess,  if  she  cared  to  please,  to  commune  much 
with  herself,  and  to  think  deeply  before  she  s]x)ke.     Her  family 
was  a  strange  one,  but  not  stranger,  in  many  respects,  than  that 
into  which  she  was  going.     Her  admission  there,  indeed,  at  all 
was,  perhaps,  a  consequence  of  hate  rather  than  of  love.     Prince 
William,  Duke  of  Clarence,  had  been  among  the  first  to  speak  of 
the  Princess  Caroline  of  Brunswick  as  a  wife  for  the  Prince  of 
Wales.     He  had  been  led  to  do  this  because  he  hated  the  Duchess 
of  York,  knew  that  the  princess  and  duchess  hated  each  other,  and 
felt  sure  that  the  marriage  of  the  former  with  the  heir  to  the 
throne  would  be  wormwood  to  the  duchess.     By  what  amiable 
motives  are  little-minded  people  in  all  ranks  of  life  influenced » 
The  Duke  of  Clarence  was,  ultimately,  one  of  the  bitterest  and  the 
most  unreasonable  of  the  enemies  of  this  very  princess  whom  he 
iiaci  helped  to  drag  up  to  greatness. 

With  regard  to  the  feelings  of  the  princess  against  the  excellent 
Duchess  of  lork,  the  envoy  endeavored  to  turn  them  into  a  senti- 
ment  oi  respect  for  one  who  was  worthy  of  such  homage.     Indeed, 
he  was  so  indefatigable  with  his  counsel  that  the  ducal  i.arents  be- 
came  fearful  lest  there  might  be  even  too  much  of  it  for  his  own 
profit  It  not  for  their  daughter's  good.     It  was  suggeste<l  to  him 
that  the  princess,  in  a  moment  of  fondness,  might  communicate  to 
the  prince  all  he  had  said  to  her,  and  so  he  «  would  run  the  ri.k  of 
getting  into  a  scrape"  with  his  royal  highness  on  his  return.    Lord 
Ma Ime^bury,  who  was  the  envoy  of  the  king  and  not  of  the  prince, 
replied  with  readiness,  dignity,  and  effect.     "  I  replied,"  he  said 
that  luckily  I  was  in  a  situation  not  to  want  the  prince's  favor ; 
that  It  was  of  infinitely  more  consequence  to  the  public,  and  even 
to  me  (m  the  rank  I  filled  in  its  service),  that  the   Princess  of 
Wales  should  honor  and  become  her  high  situation,  recover  the 
dignity  and  respect  due  to  our  princes  and  royal  familv,  which  had 
oi  late,  been  so  much  and  so  dangemusly  let  down  by 'their  mixin<r' 
so  indiscriminately  with  their  inferiors,  than  that  I  sLuld  have  th^ 
emoluments  and  advantages  of  a  favorite  at  Cariton  Hou^e  •  and 
ha  Idea  was  so  impressed  on  my  mind  that  I  should  certainly  .ay 
to  the  prince  everything  I  had  said  to  the  Princess  Caroline."    He 


CAROLINE   OF  BRUNSWICK. 


223 


had  a  difTicult  pupil  in  the  latter  lady.  After  a  whole  page  of 
record  touching  how  important  it  was  that  she  should  practiTe  re- 
serve and  dignity,  there  is  the  condemnatory  entry :  "  Concert  in 
the  evening  ;  the  Princess  Caroline  talks  very  much— quite  at  her 
ease — too  much  so." 

In  another  chapter  of  the  family  romance,  we  find  the  aunt  of 
the  princess— the  Abbess  of  Gandersheim— exhorting  her  niece  to 
put  no  trust  in  men  at  all ;  a.<suring  her  that  her  husband  would 
deceive  her ;  that  she  would  not  be  happy ;  "  and  all  the  nonsense 
of  an  envious  and  a  desiring  old  maid."     The  gaiety  of  the  princess 
was  eclipsed,' for  a  moment,  by  the  chill  cloud  thrown  across  it  by 
the  remarks  of  her  aunt.     The  envoy,  however,  restored  the  ordi- 
nar)'  sunshine  by  requesting  the  princess,  the  next  time  the  abbess 
held  similar  discourse,  to  ask  her  whether,  if  she  proposed  to  give 
up  the  prince  to  her  aunt,  and  take  the  Abbey  of  Gandersheim  in 
place  thereof;  she  would  then  «  think  men  to  be  such  monsters,  and 
whether  she  would  not  expose  herself  to  all  the  dangers  and 'mis- 
fortunes of  such  a  marriage  ?"     This  sally,  with  good  counsel  to 
garnish  it,  not  only  restored  the  good-humor  of  the  princess,  but 
made  her  more  desirous  than  ever  to  attach  the  envoy  personally 
to  her  service  as  soon  as  her  household,  as  Princess  of  Wales 
should   be   established.     Lord  Malmesbury  avoided  an   explicit 
answer,  but  entreated  her  not  to  solicit  anything  in  his  behalf.     "  I 
had,"  he  says,  "  the  Duke  of  SuflTolk  and  Queen  Margaret  in  my 
thoughts."    Jle,  further,  was  more  anxious  than  ever  with  refer- 
ence to  the  results  of  this  marriage.     With  a  steady  man,  he 
thought,  the  impulsive  bride  might  have  a  chance  of  bliss ;  but  with 
oue  that  wtis  not  so,  he  saw  that  her  risks  were  many  and  great 
indeed.     In  the  meanwhile  he  poured  counsel  into  her  mind,  as 
Mr.  Gi-adgrind  used  to  pour  facts  into  the  juvenile  intellect  at 
Coketown— by  the  imperial  gallon.     The  princess  continued  to 
take  it  all  well,  but  the  giver  of  it  was  shrewd  enough  to  see  that, 
*'  in  the  long  run,  it  must  displease."     He  was  right  in  his  conclu- 
sion, for  the  night  after  he  expressed  the  conviction,  the  princess 
remarked,  on  some  grave  moi.ition  of  his,  that  she  should  never 
learn  it  all,  and  that  she  was  too  light-minded  ever  to  do  so. 
Ward  and  guardian  had  been  running  a  parallel  between  the 


r 


224 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS   OF  ENGLAND. 


former  and  her  sister-in-law,  younger  than  herself,  the  hereditary 
Trmcess  of  Brunswick.     The  Princess  Caroline  had  asked  Lord 
Malmesbury,  which  he  thought  would  make  the  better  Princess  of 
Wales,  herself  or  her  sister-in-law  ?     To  this  difficult  question  the 
envoy  replied  gallantly,  that  he  knew  which  would  be  the  prince's 
choice ;  that  she  possessed  by  nature  what  the  hereditary  princess 
neither  had,  nor  could  ever  acquire— beauty  and  grace.     He  added 
m  his  character  of  Mentor,  "ihat  all  the  essential  qualities  thj 
hereditary  princess  has,  s/ie  might  attain— prudence,  discretion,  at- 
tention, and  tact."-- Do  I  want  them  ?"-«  You  cannot  have  too 
much  of  them."— -How  comes  my  sister-in-law,  who  is  youncrer 
than  myself,  to  have  them  more  than  I  .>"—- Because,  at  a  very 
early  period  of  her  life,  her   family  was  in   dmiger ;    she  was 
brought  up  to  exertion  of  the  mind,  and  she  now  derives  the 
benefit,  d'avoir  mange  son  pain  bis  le  premier  r~^^  I  shall  never 
learn  this,"  was  the  remark  of  the  princess,  with  some  confession 
of  her  defects.     Lord  Malmesbury  encouraged  her  by  saying  that 
when  she  found  herself  in  a  different  situation  she  would  be  pre- 
pared  for  its  exigencies  if  she  questioned  and  communed  deeply 
with  herself  now.     In  short,  he  gave  excellent  advice,  and  if  coun- 
sel  could  have  cured  the  radical  defects  of  a  vicious  education, 
Caroline  would  have  crossed  the  sea.s  to  her  new  home  p^erle^s 
among  bridges.  ^ 

But  ilentor'.  chance  of  success  in  perfecting  this  waywaixj  pupil 
was   rendered   al    the   less   by  the  slander "heaped.'upon  Lord 
-Alalmesbur^  „s  character,  and  his  motives,  by  tlj  old  aunt  of  Z 
pmcess.     It  is  difficult  to  believe  in  the  existence  of  such  1  be  nl!^ 
but  she  was  an  aunt  who  found  sufficient  ground  for  hatin"  h^; 
nu^ces,  tf  she  saw  them  happy.     She  loved  to  dash  their  l^ 
o    fehcuy.     S  e  found  a  luxury  in  setting  her  relatives  by  tl« 
ears.     She  had  not  a  hum.an  sympa.hy  in  her  heart  for  any  human 
bemg;  and,  tf  ever  she  d!d  commit  a  generous  action,  it  was  n^ 
for   he  sake  of  benefiting  ,he  recipient  of  her  apparent  kindne" 
but  ,0  excue  jealousy  or  disap,x>intme„t  in  others.     She  was  open 
to  flattery,  yet  crafty  enough  to  discern  it,  and  sometimes  sdf" 
denyu,g  enough  to  despise  it.     She  loved  no  human  bein..  wa^  by 
no  human  ben.g  beloved-and  the  silly,  selfish,  savage  oM  mail 


CAROLINE  OF  BRUNSWICK. 


225 


was  very  well  suited  with  :i  dignity  and  an  occujation  when  she 
assumed  the  light  honors  and  lighter  duties  of  Abbess  of  Gander- 
sheim. 

At  length  the  hour  approached  for  the  departure  of  the  bride, 
but  before  it  struck,  there  had  well  nigh  been  an  angry  scene! 
Lord  Malmesbury  had  faithfully  nerrated  to  the  prince  all  that  his 
commission  allowed  him   to   nan-ate,  touching   his  doings.     His 
opinion  of  the  bride,  he  of  course  kept  to  himself.     The  prince 
wrote  back  a  complete  approval  of  all  he  had  done,  but  added  a 
prohibition  ,of  the  princess  being  accompanied  to  England,  by  a 
Mademoiselle  Rosenzweit  who,  as  his  royal  highness  understood, 
had  been  named  as  "  a  sort  of  reader."     What  sort  is  not  stated ; 
but  the  prince,  for  what  reason  is  not  known,  would  not  have  her 
in  that,  or  any  other  character.     The  Duke  and  Duchess  of  Bruns- 
wick were  exceedingly  annoyed  by  tliis  exercise  of  authority,  on 
the  part  of  the  royal  husband,  but  they  were,  of  force,  compelled  to 
submit.     The  motive  for  the  nomination  of  this  lady  deserves  to 
be  noticed,  particularly  as  the  duke,  who  kept  a  "favorite"  at  the 
table  where  his  wife  presided,  and  the  duchess,  who  told  coarse 
and  indelicate  stories  there,  which  disgusted  the  "  favorite,"  had 
been  particularly  boastful  concerning  the  very  severe  education 
of  the  princess. 

When  it  w;is  agreed  that  Mademoiselle  Rosenzweit  should  not 
accompany  the  princess  as  "a  sort  of  reader,"  the  Duke  of  Bruns- 
wick took  Lord  Malmesbury  aside,  and  stated  that  the  reason  why 
he  wished  her  to  be  with  the  princess  was,  that  his  daughter  wrote 
very  ill,  and  spelt  ill,  and  he  was  desirous  that  this  should  not  ap- 
pear. The  noble  diarist  adds,  "that  his  serene  highness  was  not 
at  all  so  serenely  indifferent  on  the  matter  as  he  pretended  to  be. 
He  affected  to  be  so,  '  but  at  the  bottom  was  hurt  and  angry.' " 

The  last  day  the  unhappy  bride  ever  spent  in  a  home  which, 
considering  all  things,  had  been  a  happy  home  to  her,  was  one  of 
mingled  smiles,  tears,  dignity,  and  meanness.  The  duke  rose  into 
something  like  dignity,  also,  and  exhibited  a  momentary  touch  of 
patenial  feeling  as  the  hour  of  departure  drew  near,  and  his  glory, 
as  well  as  his  paternal  affection,  was  concerned  in  the  conduct  and 


bearing  of  his  daughter. 


10* 


226 


LIVES  OF  THE  QCJCENS   OF  ENGLAND. 


There  was  a  dinner  which  would  have  been  cordial  enough  but 
for  the  arrival  of  an  anonymous  letter,  warning  the  duchels  and 
the  princess  of  the  dangers  the  latter  would  run  from  a  profli-ate 
"lady,"— the  blank  of  which  maj  be  filled  up  by  the  nam^  of 
Jersey.  The  letter  had  been  addressed  to  the  duchess,  but  tint 
extremely  prudent  lady  had  i,iformed  her  poor  daughter  of  its 
contents,  and  discussed  the  latter  openly  witli  all  those  who  cared 
to  take  part  in  the  discussion.  Lord  Malmesbury  suspected  the 
epistle  to  come  from  the  party  of  the  disappointed  Mademoiselle 
de  Rosenzweit.     It  was  a  vulgar  epi.tle,  the  chief  point  in  which 

was  the  assertion  that  the  "  Lady "  would  certainly  do  her 

utmost  to  lead  the  princess  into  some  act  of  injury  to  her  own  hus- 
band s  honor.     The  princess  was  not  herself  much  terrified  on  this 
pomt,  and  for  that  reason.  Lord  Malme.bury  told  her  very  ^ravely 
that  It  was  death  for  a  man  to  approach  the  Princess  of" Wales 
with  any  Idea  of  winning  her  affections  from  her  husband,  and  that 
no  man  would  be  daring  enough  to  think  of  it.     The  poor  bride 
somethmg  startled,  inquired  if  that  were  really  the  law.      Lord 
Malmesbury  answered,  '-  that  such  was  the  law ;  that  anvbody  who 
presumed  to  /orHier,  would  be  guilty  of /.>/,  treason,  and  puaished 
with  deaih^  If  she  were  weak  enough  to  listen  to  him  ;  so  also  would 
she.     This  startled  her."     Naturally  so;  between  advice,  evil  pro- 
phecy,  menace  dark  innuendos,  the  necessity  of  going  to  church, 
and   he  possibility  of  ending  on  a  scaffold,  the  bride  mi-ht  well  be 
startled.  ° 

Nor  was  the  letter,  above  alluded  to,  the  only  one  which  wa.  a 
source  of  uneasiness  to  the  princess.  George  III.  had  written  to 
the  duchess,  expressing  his  "hope  that  his  niece  would  not  indulge 
in  too  much  vivacity,  but  would  lead  a  sedentary  and  retired  lifb" 
This  letter  also  was  exhibited  by  the  injudicious  mother  to  her 
daughter,  and  while  the  latter  was  wondering  what  the  conclusion 
of  all  this  turmoil  might  be,  there  was  Mademoiselle  de  Ilertzfeldt 
reiterating  that  the  only  way  for  the  prince  to  manage  would  be 
by  fear.  "Aye,"  said  the  virtuous  lady,  "even  by  terror-  she 
will  emancipate  herself,  if  care  be  not  taken  of  her.  Watched 
narrowly  and  severely,  she  may  conduct  herself  well ! " 

Amid  such  a  confusion  of  scenes,  incidents,  things,  and  person*. 


CAROLINE  OF  BRUNSWICK. 


227 


the  Princess  Caroline  was  variously  affected.  Her  last  banquet 
in  her  father's  halls  was  an  epitome  of  the  sorrows,  cares,  mock- 
splendor,  and  much  miseiy  of  the  time  to  come. 

On  Monday,  December  the  29th,  1795,  the  bride  left  Brunswick 
"  for  good."  It  was  two  o'clock  in  the  aflemoon  when  the  envoy 
departed  from  the  palace  with  his  fair  companion  in  his  charge. 
To  render  her  safety  less  exposed  to  risk.  Major  Hislop  had  gone 
forward  "  to  give  notice  in  case  of  danger  from  the  enemy."  The 
cannon  from  the  ramparts  of  the  city  thundered  out  to  her  their 
last  farewell,  and  the  citizens  assembled  in  crowds  to  see  the  prin- 
cess pass  forth  on  her  path,  of  roses,  as  they  good-naturedly  hoped; 
but,  in  fact,  on  her  way,  strewn  with  thorns. 

For  three  days  the  travellei*s  pressed  forward  in  something  of 
long  file,  making  however  short  journeys  and  not  getting  very  rap- 
idly over  them.  On  the  third  day  the  princess,  weary  of  being 
alone,  with  two  ladies,  invited  Lord  Malmesbury  to  ride  in  the 
same  coach  with  her.  He  "  resisted  it  as  impossible,  from  its  being 
improper ;"  and  he  continued  to  discountenance  the  matter,  and  she 
to  laugh  at  him  for  his  inviolable  punctilio. 

What  with  the  impediments  thrown  in  their  way  by  the  war 
then  raging  in  front  of  them,  between  the  French  on  one  side  and 
the  Dutch  and  English  on  the  other, — and  the  alternating  features 
of  which,  now  enabled  them  to  hurry  on,  now  checked  their  course. 
What  with  the  incidents  of  these  stirring  times,  and  the  hard  frost, 
during  which  they  occurred,  cavaliers  and  ladies  made  but  tardy 
way,  were  half  frozen,  and  not  inconsiderably  dispirited.  For  a  time 
they  tarried  at  Osnaburg,  where  Lord  Malmesbury  narrates  an 
anecdote  for  the  purpose  of  showing  the  character  of  the  princess, 
and  which  is  therefore  "bonne  prise"  for  our  pages. 

It  may  be  premised  that  there  were  many  distressed  French 
emigres  at  Osnaburg,  some  of  them  "dying  of  hunger  and  through 
want."  The  rest,  the  gallant  leader  of  our  escort  shall  tell  in  his 
own  words :  "  I  persuaded  the  Princess  Caroline  to  be  munificent 
towards  them — she  disposed  to  be,  but  not  knowing  how  to  set 
about  it,  I  tell  her  liberality  and  generosity  is  an  enjoyment,  not  a 
sworn  virtue.  She  gives  a  louis  for  some  lottery  tickets,  /give 
ten,  and  say  the  princess  ordered  me, — she  surprised.     I  said,  I 


228 


LIVES   OF  THE   QUEENS   OF  ENGLAND. 


was  sure  she  did  not  mean  to  give  for  the  ticket  its  prime  vahie, 
and  that  I  forestalled  her  intention.     Next  day  a  French  emigre 
with  a  pretty  child  draws  near  the  table.     The  Princess  Caroline, 
immediately  of  her  own  accord,  puts  the  louis  in  a  paper  and  drives 
them  to  the  child.     The  Duchess  of  Brunswick  observes  it^and 
mquirc%  of  me  (I  was  dining  between  them)   what  it  wa-^.     I  tell 
her  a  demand  on  her  purse.     She  embarrassed :  Me  n'ai  que  mes 
beaux  doubles  louis  de  Brunswick.'     I  answer:  ^  Qu'ils  devien- 
dront  plus  beaux  dans  les  mains  de  cet  enfant  que  dans  sa  ix)che.' 
bhe  ashamed,  and  gives  three  of  them.     In  the  evenin-  the  Prin- 
cess Caroline,  to  whom  this  sort  of  virtue  was  never  preached,  on 
my  praising  the  coin  of  the  money  at  Brunswick,  offers //..  i-.^-y 
senousl^  eiy)a  or  ten  double  louis,  saying  *  Cela  ne  me  fait  rien-je 
ne  m'en  soucie  pas-je  vous  pric  de  les  prendre.'    I  mention  these 
facts  to  show  her  character,--it  could  not  distinguish  between  -iv- 
ing  as  a  benevolence,  and  flinging  away  the  money  hke  a  child. 
She  thought  that  the  art  of  getting  rid  of  the  money,  and  not  seem- 
mg  to  care  about  it,  constituted  the  merit.     1  took  an  opportunity 
at  supper  of  defining  to  her  what  real  benevolence  ^4s,  and  I 
recommended  it  to  her  as  a  quality  that  would,  if  rightly  employed, 
make  her  more  admirers,  and  give  her  more  true  satisfaction  than 
any  that  human  nature  could  possess.     The  idea  wa..,  I  am  sorry 
to  see,  new  to  her,  but  she  felt  the  truth  of  it;  and  she  certainly  is 
not  fond  of  money,  which  both  her  parents  are." 

This  india-rence  to  money  was  amply  manifested  throughout 
the  course  of  her  after  life.  At  a  period  of  that  life  when  she  was 
most  distressed,  she  might  have  eai^ed  a  nght  royal  revenue,  had 
she  cared  to  sacrihce  to  it,-her  reputation.     With  all  her  fllults, 

more  of  r-        '''  "f"  '^  '^^  "^^'"^'^  ^^^P^'^'^"^'     ^^'-  ^'- 
more  of  the  ignorance  of  the  latter,  but  even  she  would  not  have 

been  led  into  betraying  it,  as  her  mother  did,  when  looking  at  the 

Busseldoi-f!  collection  of  pictures  which,  at  this  time,  had  been  re- 

moved  to  Osnaburg  to  save  it  from  the  calamities  of  war      Her 

serene  highness  was  shown  a  Gerard  Dow.     -  And  who  is  Gerard 

Dow  ?    said  she,  "  was  he  of  Dusseldorf  .^  "     The  severity  of  this 

pimce....     The  mother  had  never  heard  of  Dow.     The  daughter 


CAROLINE   OF  BRUNSWICK. 


229 


wrote  ill  and  spelt  worse.    She,  some  years  subsequent  to  the  jour- 
ney upon  which  we  are  now  accompanying  her,  described  the  Prin- 
cess Charlotte,  in  a  letter,  as  lier  "  deer  angle."     She  was  indeed 
ever  profuse  with  epithets  of  endearment.     The  ladies  whom  she 
saw  for  the  first  time  during  this  her  bridal  progress  to  her  hus- 
band's house,  were  addressed  by  her  as  «  Mon  coeur,  ma  chere,  ma 
petite."     Lord  Malmesbury  again  played  the  monitor  when  these 
freedoms  were  indulged  in,  and  his  pupil  began  to  care  less  for 
both  advice  and  adviser.     The  bride's  mother,  too,  got  weary  of 
her  journey,— afraid  of  being  taken  prisoner  by  the  enemy,  and 
was  anxious  to  leave  her  daughter  and  return  home.     The  envoy 
resisted  this  as  improper,  until  the  moment  she  had  placed  the 
princess  in  the  hands  of  her  proper  attendants.    Lord  Malmesbury 
not  only  made  "her  lady  mother"  cominue  at  her  post,  but,  on 
leaving  Osnaburg,  he  induced  her  to  give  fifty  louis  to  the  'ser- 
vants,—very  much  indeed  against  her  will.     She  neither  loved  to 
give  money  away  herself,  nor  to  have  the  virtue  of  liberality  im- 
pressed upon  her  daughter  as  one  worth  observing.     In  most  re- 
spects, however,  the  daughter  was  superior  to  the  mother.     Thu. 
when  at  Benthem,  they  were  waited   on  and  complimented  by 
President  Fonk  and  Count  Benthem  de  Steinfort,  two  odd  ficrures 
and  still  more  oddly  dressed,— the  duchess  burst  into  a  fit  of 
laughter  at  beholding  them.     The  princess  had  the  inclination  to 
do  as  much,  but  she  contrived  to  enjoy  her  hilarity  without  hurtin- 
the  feelings  of  the  two  accomplished  and  oddly-dressed  gentlemen 
who  had  come  to  do  her  honor. 

The  princess  was  less  delicate  with  regard  to  odd  women 
Thus,  she  met  Madame  la  Presidente  Walmoden,  at  Osnabun/ 
whom  she  asked  to  play  cards  at  her  table,  and  made  gigglin''- 
remarks  about  her,  in  half-whispers,  to  the  younger  la^ic^s  of  the 
party.  The  princess  disliked  the  presidente ;  the  duchess,  on  the 
other  hand,  had  pleasure  in  her  society.  Presidente  and  duchess 
vied  with  each  other  in  telling  stories ;  and  the  latter  was  comically 
indelicate,  to  her  heart's  content. 

There  were  still  great  difficulties  in  the  way  of  their  progress 
towards  the  sea  cojist,  and  more  than  one  wide  wave  from  fUr-off 
battles  drove  them  back,  again  and  again,  to  cities  from  which  they 


230 


LIVES  OF  THK   QL'EENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


had  before  taken,  as  they  believed,  a  final  ftirowell.     In  the  midst 
of  it  all,  there  was  much  "fun,"  some  frowning,  a  little  bickering, 
advice  without  end,  and  amendment  always  beginning.     Still,  ^ 
the  party  proceeded,  half-frozen  to  death  on  their  wav,  by  the  ri'-or 
of  a  winter  such  as  Lord  Malmesbury  had  not  felt  since  he  was^in 
Russia,  the  princess  especially  loved  to  talk  of  her  future  prospects 
and  intentions.     Perhaps  the  most  singular  dream  in  which  she 
indulged  was  that  of  undertaking  and  accomplishing— for  she  hud 
no  doubt  as  to  the  result— the  reformation  of  the  prince.    She  felt 
she  said,  that  she  was  made  to  fill  the  vide  in  the  situation  in  which 
he  stood,  caused  by  his  isolation  from  the  king  and  queen.     She 
would  domesticate  him,  she  said,  and  give  him  a  taste  for  all  the 
private  and  home  virtues.     His  happiness  would  then  be  of  a 
higher  quality  than  it  ever  had  been  before,  and  he  would  owe  it 
all  to  her.     This  was  the  pleasant  dream  of  a  young  bride  full  of 
good  mtentions,  and  who  was  strangely  called  upon  to  project  the 
reformation  of  her  husband,  even  before  she  had  seen  him,  or  could 
have  taken  that  interest  in  him  which  could  only  arise  from  esteem 
founded  on  personal  intercourse.     This  result,  she  declared,  the 
nation  expected  at  her  hands ;  and  she  would  realize  it,  for  she 
lelt  herself  capable  of  effecting  it. 

To  all  this  agreeable  devising.  Lord  Malmesbury  replied  in  en- 
coiiragmg  speeches,  mingled  with  gi-avcst  counsel,  and  solemn 
admonition  as  to  her  bearing.  This  the  princess  generally  took  in 
excellent  part,  while  the  duchess,  her  mother,  was  grumbUn^  at 
the  intense  cold,  or  slumbering  uneasily  under  it;  and  the  ser- 
vants outside  the  carriages  were  as  nearly  frozen  jis  people  could 
be,  but  were  kept  from  that  absolute  catastrophe  by  -enerous 
liquor  and  the  warmth  of  their  indignation. 

The  bride  ought  to  have  been  perfect  in  her  character,  for  her 
Mentor  lost  no  opportunity  in  endeavoring  to  so  prepare  her  that 
she  might  make  a  fovorable  impression  upon  the  king  and  queen 
It  must,  too,  be  said  for  her,  that  her  amiability,  under  this  reite- 
rated didactic  process,  was  really  very  great.  She  felt  nothincr  but 
respect  for  her  teacher,  and  that  says  much  for  the  instruction 
given,  as  also  for  the  way  in  which  it  was  conveyed.  On  one  oc- 
casion, we  are  told,  she  ended,  on  retiring  for  the  night,  by  sayin- 


CAROLINE   OF  BRUNSWICK. 


281 


that  she  hoped  the  prince  would  let  her  see  Lord  Malmesbury, 
since  she  never  could  expect  that  any  one  would  "  give  her  such 
good  and  such  free  advice  as  myself;"  and  she  added,  "  I  confess 
I  could  not  bear  it  from  any  one  but  you." 

On  Saturday,  January  24,  1795,  the  hymeneal  travellers,  if  we 
may  so  call  them,  entered  Hanover,  blue  with  cold ;  of  which 
the  benumbed  duchess  complained,  in  no  very  elegant  terms.  Lord 
IVIalmesbury  was  exceedingly  anxious  that  the  princess  should  be 
popular  here,  as,  according  to  the  impression  of  her,  reported  hence 
to  England,,  would  probably  be  that  of  the  king  and  queen  on  her 
arrival.  Lord  Malmesbury  told  her  that  she  was  Zemire,,  and 
Hanover  Azor ;  and  that,  if  she  behaved  rightly,  the  monster 
would  be  metamorphosed  into  a  beauty;  that  Beulwitz  (at  the 
head  of  the  regency,  the  most  ugly  and  most  disagreeable  man 
possible)  would  change  into  the  Prince  of  Wales ;  that  the  habit 
of  proper  princely  behavior  was  natural  to  her — an  assertion  which 
was  not  true,  as  even  the  diplomatist  showed,  by  adding  "  that  it 
would  come  of  itself ;  that  acquired  by  this  (in  that  respect)  fortu- 
nate delay  in  our  journey,  it  would  belong  to  her,  and  become 
fjimiliar  to  her,  on  her  coming  to  England,  where  it  would  be  of 
infinite  advantage." 

And  yet  Hanover  was  not  a  very  particular  place,  that  is,  it  was 
not  inhabited,  the  court  end  of  it,  at  least,  by  very  particular,  strict, 
or  strait-laced  people.  The  princess  was  particularly  careful  of 
her  conduct  before  persons,  some  of  whom  appear  to  have  generally 
got  intoxicated  before  dinner  was  over.  Nevertheless,  Lord 
Malmesbury  did  effect  a  very  notable  change  for  the  better  in  the 
I)rincess*s  habits.  He  had  been  before  addressing  himself  to  the 
improvement  of  principle,  he  now  came  to  a  personal  matter ;  and, 
if  one  might  be  pardoned  for  laughing  at  any  incident  in  the  life  of 
a  poor  woman,  whose  life  was  anything  rather  than  a  matter  to  be 
laughed  at,  this  is  the  time  when  one  might  do  so  with  lea<t  re- 
proach. 

The  party  had  been  three  weeks  at  Hanover,  and,  during  that 
time.  Lord  Malmesbury  had  held  frequent  discussions  with  the 
princess  upon  the  very  delicate  matter  of  the  toilette.  She  prided, 
or,  to  use  the  noble  lord's  o\vn  term,  *'she  piqued  herself  on  dress- 


232 


LIVES  OF  rjlE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


ing  quick."     He  disapproved  of  this ;  for  a  quick   dresser  is  a 
slovenly  ,„a  „    ,,,„  ,^^^^^^     On  .his  poin.,  iLvever,  she   v  uld 
not  be  convmced ;  probably,  she  was  .he  less  inclined  .o  be  so,  as 
he  weather  continued  intensely  cold ;  and  the  next  luxury  to  l4,. 
m  bed,  was,  be„.g  quickly  dressed   when  she  got  out  of' i.      H^ 
oould  not  con,e  to  details  with  a  young  bride  wL  despised  pert", 
ablutions;  but  he  found  a  court  htdy,  Mada.ne  IJusche, .        I 
orn  he  poured  the  necessary  atnount  of  information  ,1.;.  should 
."duce  .he  prntcess  to  be  more  liberal  towanls  her  skin,  in  .he  dis- 
pensa..on  oi  water.     He  desired  Mad>u>,e  Busehe  toex  .Iain  toher 
that  ,he  pnnce  was  very  delicate,  and  .ha.  he  expec.ed  a  lun.^  and 
very  caretui  .,/<•««  de propriete,  of  which  she  Zl  no  idea    "-On 
he  contrary,"  he  says,  "she   neglee.s  i.  sadly,  and  is  offensive 
.™m   h,s  neglee..     Madame  Busehe  execu.es  herco.nn.lssion  w^ 
and  the  pnncess  came  out,  the  next  d.ay,  u,ell  washed  all  over  !" 

i.ut  stdl  the  envoy's  trouble  in  connection  with  his  char..e  in  no 
ways  d,,n,n.shed.     Now   he  was  gently  reproving  her  for^c     in: 
^t.an,o   adK^  by  very  tiuniliar  tern.s  ;  anon,  he  had  to  censure  her 
or  uiK-^ked-for  confidences  touching  past  loves;  and  .hen,  more 
senously  ,han  all,  .o  reprimand  her  even,  and  wi.h  s.rong  license 
of  phrase,  for  her  undu.iful  and  sneering  conduct  towards  her  mo- 
hor,  who,  for  being  silly  and  undignitied,  yet  deserved  therespe-ct 
of  her  own  chdd      On  all  these  occasions  .here  was  some  pout^n. 
followed  by  .-vcqu-escenee  in  .he  reproof,  and  ardent  promises  oT 
nnprovement.  ,h..t   were   still   long  a^^ming.     In  the  meantime, 
..er*  was  that  delicate  article  of  personal  cleanliness,  upon  which 
the  pnncess  became  as  indilferent  as  ever.     We  must  again  have 
reeourse  to  the  envoy's  own  description  of  what  passed  between 
him  .-.nd  the  pretty  wayward  girl  he  was  endeavoring  to  pet^ua.Ie 
o  to  dtrnness.     On  March  G  he  says:  "I  had  two;onv!.rsa.io„ 
«.h  .he  Pnncess  Caroline.     One  on   the  toilette,  on  cleanliness, 
and  on  dehcacy  ot  speaking.     On  these  points  I  endeavored,  as  far 
as  It  was  possible  for  a  man,  to  inculcate  (ho  necessity  of  gr.a.  and 
nice  a..en.ion  to  eve.7  part  of  dress,  as  well  as  to  what  was  hid  a, 
«^at  was  seen.     I  knew  she  wore  coarse  petticoats,  coarse  shifts; 
and  thread  stockings,  and  these  never  well   washed  or  changed 
often  enough.     I  observed  that  a  long  toilette  was  necessary,  and 


CAROLINE  OF  BRUNSWICK. 


233 


gave  her  no  credit  for  boasting  that  hers^vas  a  short  one.  What  I 
could  not  say  myself  on  this  point,  I  got  said  through  women : 
tlirough  ^ladame  Busehe,  and  afterwards  through  Mrs.  Harcourt. 
It  is  remarkable  how  amazingly  on  this  point  her  education  has 
been  neglected,  and  how  mucli  her  mother,  although  an  English-* 
woman,  was  inattentive  to  it.  My  other  conversation  was  on  the 
princess  speaking  slightingly  of  the  duchess,  being  peevish  to  her, 
and  often  laughing  at  her  or  about  her.  On  that  point,  I  talked 
very  seriously  indeed :  said  that  nothing  was  so  extremely  improp- 
er, so  radically  wrong ;  that  it  was  impossible,  if  she  reflected  for 
a  moment,  that  she  should  not  be  sorry  for  everything  of  the  kind 
which  escaped;  and  I  assured  her  it  was  the  more  improper 
fi-om  the  tender  affection  the  duchess  had  for  her.  The  princess 
felt  all  this,  and  it  made  a  temporary  impression.  But  on  this,  as 
on  all  other  subjects,  I  have  had  too  many  opportunities  to  observe 
that  her  heart  is  very,  very  light,  unsusceptible  of  strong  or  lasting 
feelings.  In  some  respects  this  may  make  her  luippier,  but  cer- 
tainly not  better.  I  must,  however,  say  that  on  the  idea  being 
suggested  to  her  by  her  father  that  I  should  remain  on  business  in 
Germany,  and  not  be  allowed  to  attend  her  to  England,  she  was 
mo.st  extremely  affected,  even  to  tears,  and  spoke  to  me  with  a 
kindness  and  feeling  I  was  highly  gratified  to  find  in  her." 

On  the  24th  of  March  the  travelling  bridal  party  quitted  Hano- 
ver. Tiie  bride  made  presents  to  the  amount  of  800  golden 
Fredericks — a  generosity  which  cost  her  little,  for  the  money  was 
supplied  by  Lord  Malmesbury,  who  took  a  receipt  for  it,  like  a 
man  of  business.  It  was  now  that  the  mother  and  daughter  part- 
ed— not  again  to  meet  till  the  former  was  without  a  duchy  and  the 
latter  without  a  spouse.  The  duchess  was  considerably  affected. 
The  princess  kept  up  her  spirits,  and  behaved  with  grace  and  pro- 
priety. After  passing  through  Rottenberg  and  Klosterseven,  where 
they  ''  slept  at  the  curate's,"  the  wayfarers  reached  Stade  on  Fri- 
day, March  27.  Early  on  the  following  morning  they  embarked  in 
Hanoverian  boats,  upon  the  Schwinde;  by  nine  they  reached  the  Fly 
cutter,  and  in  that  when  the  wind  served,  or  in  boats  when  it 
slackened,  they  proceeded  down  the  river,  and  at  seven  o'clock 
were  taken  on  board  the  Jupiter,  fifty  gun  ship,  amid  all  the  dread- 


H 


234: 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS    OF  ENGLAND. 


ful  noise,  confusion,  and  ^loke,  which  go  towards  doing  welcome 
to  an  illustrious  traveller.  As  she  was  stepping  on  board,  a  young 
midshipman,  named  Dove,  handed  her  a  rope,  in  order  to  assist 
lier.  He  was  the  first  to  help  her,  as  it  were,  into  England. 
Something  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  century  later,  he  who  thus 
aided  the  bride,  was  charged  with  the  mission  of  bringing  back  her 
body.  The  fleet  re-echoed  the  thundering  salute  which  burst  from 
the  sides  of  the  Jupiter;  yards  were  manned,  streamers  flung  out 
their  silky  lengths  to  the  wind,  and  as  the  princess  passed  on  to 
Cuxhaven,  all  went  as  merrily  as  became  a  marriage  party. 

The  next  day  they  cleared  the  Elbe,  and  on  the  following  were 
off  the  Texel.  The  princess  was  cheerful,  affable,  good-humored, 
not  alarmed  by  the  terrors  of  the  sea  or  the  sight  of  French  priva- 
teers, and  a  favorite  with  both  officers  and  seamen.  She  only 
made  one  "slip  "on  the  passage,  from  a  repetition  of  which  the 
jealous  Lord  Malmesbury  guarded  her  by  giving  her  a  lesson  in 
English,  and  counselling  her  not  to  use  a  nasty  word  to  express  a 
nasty  thing.  While  the  royal  bride  was  conning  her  lesson,  her 
guardian  was  conferring  with  "  Jack  Payne,"  from  whom  he  learn- 
ed that  the  bridegroom  at  home  was  not  behaving  in  the  most 
prudish  way  ijossible  ;  and  that  his  favorite  was  comporting  herself 
with  the  impudence  natural  to  fiivorites  before  they  fall. 

On  Good  Friday  morning,  April  3,  the  Jupiter  passed  Harwicli, 
and  in  the  evening  anchored  at  the  Xore.  On  the  following  day 
the  bride  ascended  the  Thames  to  Greenwich,  whence,  in  a  bar^^e. 
on  Easter  Sunday,  and  amidst  thousands  of  welcoming  spectators, 
she  proceeded  to  Greenwich,  where  they  arrived  at  twelve,  and 
found — not  a  soul  from  St.  James's  to  receive  her.  They  waited 
a  full  hour  before  the  royal  carriages  arrived,  and  their  delay  was 
attributed  to  the  contrivance  of  the  prince's  favorite.  In  the 
meantime  the  officers  at  the  Hospital  did  their  honest  best  to 
welcome  the  poor  stranger.  At  length  the  carriages  arrived,  but 
with  them  no  eager  bridegroom.  To  represent  him,  came  his  mis- 
tress, with  a  bevy  of  lords  and  ladies.  Lady  Jersey  no  sooner 
beheld  the  embarrassed  princess,  than  she  began  to  ridicule  her 
dress ;  and  having  done  that  till  she  was  sharply  reproved  for  her 
etfrontery,  by  Lord  Malmesbury,  she  made  a  sort  of  claim  to  be 


CAROLINE   OF  BHUNSWICK. 


235 


0 

placed  by  the  side  of  the  princess  m  the  carriage,  on  the  ground 
that  riding  backwjirds  always  made  her  sick.  But  Lord  Malmes- 
bury would  listen  to  no  such  claim ;  told  her  that  she  was  unfit  to 
be  a  lady  of  the  bedchamber  if  she  were  unable  to  ride  with  her 
back  to  the  horses ;  and  ahhough  the  favorite  would  have  been 
glad  now  to  ride  even  in  that  fashion  in  the  same  carriage  with 
the  bride,  the  envoy  would  not  permit  it.  He  placed  there  two 
ladies  who  were  not  addicted  to  qualms  in  such  situations ;  and 
with  the  princess  occupying  a  seat  alone,  and  sitting  forward,  so  as 
to  be  more  easily  seen,  the  cortege  set  out  for  the  metropolis.  The 
bride  was  but  coldly  received  by  the  few  spectators  on  the  road, 
and  when  she  alighted,  at  the  Duke  of  Cumberland's  apartments,  in 
Cleveland  Row,  St.  James's,  at  half-past  two,  she  must,  I  think, 
liave  half  wished  herself  back  again  in  Brunswick. 

On  due  notice  of  the  arrival  being  made  to  the  royal  family,  the 
Prince  of  Wales  went  immediately  to  visit  his  cousin  and  bride. 
What  occurred  at  the  interview,  of  which  Lord  Malmesburj-  was 
the  sole  witness,  he  has  the  best  right  to  tell.     "  I,  according  to 
the  established  etiquette,  introduced   (no  one  else  being  in  the 
room)   the  Princess  Caroline  to  him.     She  very  properly,  in  con- 
sequence of  my  saying  to  her  it  was  the  right  mode  of  proceeding, 
attempted  to  kneel  to  him.     He  raised  her  (gracefully  enough) 
and  embraced  her,  said  barely  one  word,  turned  round,  retired  to  a 
distant  part  of  the  apartment,  and  calling  me  to  him,  said :  *  Harris, 
I  am  not  well ;  pray,  get  me  a  glass  of  brandy.'     I  said,  *  Sir,  had 
you  not  better  have  a  glass  of  water?'     Upon  which  he,  much  out 
of  humor,  said,  whh  an  oath,  'Noy  1  will  go  directly  to  the  qur.en.' 
And  away  he  went.     The  princess,  left  during  this  short  moment 
alone,  was  in  a  state  of  astonishment ;  and  on  my  joining  her,  said : 
^Mon  Dieu,  est-ce  que  Ic  prince  est  tovjours  comme  cela?     Je  le 
trouve  trcs  gros,  et  nullement  missi  beau  que  son  poHrait'  " 

The  eye  of  the  bride  had  been  almost  as  much  offended  as  the 
nose  of  the  bridegroom.  What  could  the  bringer  of  the  bride  say 
to  comfort  her  ?  He  stammered  out  that  his  royal  highness  was 
naturallv  much  aff*ected  and  fluttered — poor,  bashful  man,  and 
susceptible  creature — at  the  interview ;  but  he  would  be  better  by 
dinner  time ! 


236 


LIVES  or  THE   QTJEEXS  OF  KXGLAXD. 


The  princess,  however,  was  not  herself  blameless.     She  had  al- 
ready entirely  forgotten,  or  entirely  disregai-ded,  the  good  advice 
given  to  her  by  Lord  Mahue.^bury,  and,  short  as  the  time  had  been 
which  she  had  spent  at  Greenwich,  with  Lady  Jersey,  she  had 
been  foolish  enough  to  communicate,  to  that  person,  the  alleged 
fact  of  her  having  been  already  pre-occui>ied  by  a  young  German. 
The  interesting  intelligence  was  speedily  communicated  to  the 
prince;  and  the  knowledge  so  acquired— although  the  lact  itself 
may  have  been  at  tirst  doubted— certainly  had  great  inriuence  on 
the  conduct  observed  by  the  bridegroom  to  the  bride. 

Lord  Malmesbury  was  exceedingly  perplexed.     He  had  been 
so  careful  of  his  charge,  that  when  the  chances  of  war  had  obstruct- 
ed the  progress  of  their  journey,  sooner  tluui  take  her  back  to  a 
court,  the  ladies  of  which,  never  exi>ecting  to  see  her  raised  to  a 
more  exalted  station  than  that  in  which  she  wa.s  bom,  had  treated 
her  with  great  lamiliarity,  he  had  conducted  her  to  dull  and  de- 
corous Hanover.     So  tender  had  he  been  of  her,  that  he  would 
not  allow  her  to  remain  at  Osnaburg,  for  the  simple  reason  that 
Count  d'^Vrtois  was  in  the  vicinity :  and  although  Lord  Malmes- 
bury  was,  as  he  says,  very  tar  from  attributing,  either  to  him  or  to 
those  who  attended  him,  all  those  vices  and  dangerous  follies  which 
u  was  said  belonged  to  them  in  the  davs  of  f>rosperitv,  vet  he  felt 
It  highly  improper  that  the   Piincess' of  Wales  an*d  'a  fuiritive 
French  prince  should  remain  in  the  same  place.    His  charge ^could 
not  have  had  a  colder  welcome  had  such  a  meetinir  taken  place, 
and   all  the  inconveniences  resulted  from  it  which  the  noble  lord 
foresaw  and  dreaded.     The  poor  de.erted  lady  was  then  upon  the 
pomt  of  mdulging  in  some  sharji  criticism  upon  her  welcome,  when 
her  troubled  conductor,  feigning  necessity  to  attend  ujwn  the  kin-, 
left  the  room,  and  her  alone  in  it,  or  wit'h  no  better  companv  than 
her  meditations. 

The  usual  Sunday  drawing-room  had  just  come  to  a  close,  and 
Lord  Malmesbury  found  his  majesty  at  leisure  to  converse.  The 
last  thhig.  however,  thought  abi>ut  by  the  king  was  the  subject  of 
the  princess.  His  whole  conversation  turned  u]>on  home  and 
foreign  politics.  That  ended,  he  inquired  if  the  princess  was  good- 
humored.     Lord  Mabnesbury  reported  favorably  of  her  in  thi? 


CAROLINE   OF  BRUNSWICK. 


237 


respect,  and  the  king  expressed  his  gratification  in  such  a  tone  as 
to  induce  his  lordship  to  believe  that  his  majesty  had  seen  the 
queen  since  she  had  seen  the  prince,  and  heai-d  from  him  an  un- 
favorable report  of  the  princess. 

The  after-conduct  of  the  latter  was  not  calculated  to  create  a 
favorable  impression.  At  the  dinner  which  took  place  that  day, 
the  princc.^8  was  *•  liippant,  rattling,  aflecling  raillery  and  wit,"  and 
throwhig  out  coarse,  vulgar  hints  about  Lady  Jersey,  who  was 
present,  silent,  and  biding  her  time.  The  disgust  of  the  bride- 
groom was  now  permanently  fixed;  and  the  disgust  raised  by 
lightness  of  bearhig  and  language  passed  into  hatred,  when  the 
jjrincess  began  to  indulge  in  coarse  sarcasm. 

The  prince,  heartily  weary  of  his  bargain,  asked  Lord  Malmes- 
bury, after  one  of  the^e  dinners,  what  he  thought  of  the  manners 
exhibited  at  them  by  the  princess.     The  envoy  could  not  defend 
them ;  on  the  contrary,  he  expressed  his  unciualified  censure,  and 
intbrmed  the  prince  of  the  paternal  injunctions  of  the  Duke  of 
Brunswick,  whereby  he  recommended  that  a  strict  curb  should  be 
kept  ufx)n  the  princess,  or  she  would  certainly  emancipate  herself. 
The  prince  declared  that  he  saw  it  too  plainly,  and  half  reproach- 
fully asked  *•  Harris,"  why  he  had  not  told  him  as  much  before. 
The  envoy,  thus  appealed  to,  pleaded  the  strictness  of  his  commis- 
sion, which  was  not  disci-etionary,  but  which  directed  him  to  ask 
for  the  hand  of  the  Princess  Caroline  in  marriage,  and  nothing 
more :  and  tliat,  had  he  i)resumed  to  give  any  opinion  of  his  own 
ujwn  the  lady,  he  would  have  been  guilty  of  an  impertinent  disre- 
gard of  his  instructions,  which  were  at  once  limited  and  imperative. 
Lord  ;Malmesbur}'  endeavored  to  put  the  gentlest  construction 
uixin  the  sentiments  expres^ed  by  the  Duke  of  Brunswick  concern- 
ing his  daughter  ;  and  added  that,  for  his  own  part,  he  had  seen 
nothing  but  slight  defect  of  character  which  he  hoped  might  be 
amended ;  and  that,  had  he  observed  anythmg  more  serious,  he 
should  have  considered  it  his  duty  to  communicate  it,  but  only  con- 
fidentiaUy,  to  the  king  himself.     The  prince  sighed,  appeared  to 
acquiesce,  but  was  neither  consoled  nor  convinced. 

The  ceremonial  of  the  unhappy  marriage  was   celebrated  on 
Wednesday,  the  8th  of  April,  in  the  Chapel  Royal,  St.  James's. 


238 


LIVES   OF   THE    QUEENS   OF   ENGLAND. 


CAROLINE   OF  BRUNSWICK:. 


The  whole  of  the  royal  family  previously  dined  together  at  the 
Queen's  Palace,  Buckingham  House,  after  which  they  proceeded 
to  their  several  apartments  at  St.  James's  to  dress.  As  the  prin- 
cess passed  through  the  hall  of  Buckingham  House,  the  king  sa- 
luted her  in  the  heartiest  fashion,  and  then  shook  as  heartily,  by 
both  hands,  the  Prince  of  Wales,  who  had  in  vain  sought  to  raise 
his  spirits  by  the  adventitious  aid  of  wine. 

The  bridal  party  assembled  in  the  queen's  apartment,  and  walked 
from  thence  to  the  state  drawing-rooms,  which  were  not  rendered 
less  gloomy  than  usual  by  any  addition  of  festive  light.    They  were 
"  very  dark,"  says  Lord  Malmesbury,  who  walked  in  the  proces- 
sion, by  command  of  his  majesty.     The  chapel  was  very  crowded. 
The  ceremony  was  i)erformed  by  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury', 
Dr.  Moore.     The  "  Prince  of  Wales  gave  his  hat,  with  a  rich  dia- 
mond button  and  loop,  to  Lord  Harcourt  to  hold,  and  made  him  a 
present  of  it.      After  the  marriage  we  returned  to  the  queen's 
apartment.     The  prince  very  civil  and  gracious,  but  I  thought  I 
could  perceive  he  was  not  quite  sincere,  and  certainly  uidiai)py^and 
as  a  proof  of  it,  he  had  manifestly  had  recourse  to  wine  or  spirits.** 
Upon  this  point  Lord  Holhmd  has  afforded  ample  corroborative 
evidence.     That  noble  baron  has  stated  that  the  Prince  of  Wales 
had  had  such  recourse  to  brandy  that  he  with  difficulty  could  be 
kept  upright  between  two  dukes.     The  weddhig  was  as  melan- 
choly a  one  as  was  ever  celebrated.     The  only  hearty  actor  in  it 
was  the  king,  who  advanced  to  give  the  bride  away,  with  an  eager 
alacrity.     As  for  the  bridegroom,  after  having  been  got  upon  his 
knees,  he  rose,  unconsciously,  but  restlessly,  before  the  i)roper  time. 
The  archbishop  paused,  the  service  was  interrupted,  and  the  i)rince 
looked  very  much  as  if  he  were  inclined  to  run  away.     The  king, 
however,  had  presence  of  mind  for  all.     He  rose  from  his  seat 
crossed  to  where  his  son  was  standing  with  a  bewildered  air,  whis- 
pered to  him,  got  him  once  more  upon  his  knees,  and  so  happily, 
or  unhappily,  brought  the  ceremony  to  a  conclusion. 

The  usual  legal  formalities  followed;  fhese  were  succeeded  by 
a  supper  at  Buckingham  House,  and  at  midnight  the  luckless  pair 
retired  to  their  own  residence  at  Carlton  House,  quarrelling  with 
each  other,  it  is  said,  by  the  way.    3Ieanwliile  the  met^polis 


239 


around  them  was  rejoicing  and  exhibiting  its  gladness  by  the  usual 
manifestations  of  much  drunkenness  and  increased  illumination  to 
show  it  by.  Asmodeus  might  have  startled  the  Spanish  student 
that  night  with  an  exhibition  such  as  he  had  never  seen  beneath 
any  of  the  unroofed  houses  of  Madrid ! 

It  sounds  singular  to  hear  that  the  young  husband's  first  serious 
occupation,  on  tlius  beginning  life,  was  the  settlement  of  his  debts. 
These  were  enormous,  and  their  amount  only  proved  the  reckless 
dishonesty  of  him  who  had  incurred  them.    Mr.  Pitt  proposed  that 
the  income  of  the  prince  should  be  125,000/:  a-year,  exclusive  of 
the  revenue  of  the  Duchy  of  Cornwall,  some  13,000/.  more.    This 
was  eventually  agreed  to.     In  addition,  parliament  fixed  the  joint- 
ure of  the  Princess  of  Wales  at  50,000/.  i)er  annum ;  and  the 
smaller,  but  present  items  of  20,000/.  for  jewels,  and  26,000/.  for 
furnishing  Carhon   House,  were  also  agreed  upon.     Out  of  the 
above-named  revenue,  however,  a  yearly  deduction  was  to  be  made 
inorder  that  the  debts  of  the  prince  should  be  dischai-ged  within 
nine  years.     This  deduction  he  denounced,  and  his  brothers  joined 
him  in  the  denunciation,  as  a  breach  of  contract,  he  having  married 
solely  upon  the  promise  that  his  debts  should  be  paid  off  at  once. 
He  immediately  claimed  the  amount  of  the  accumulation  of  the 
receipts  of  the  Duchy  of  Cornwall  during  his  minority.     He  was 
answered,  on  the  part  of  the  king,  that  the  receipts  had  been  ex- 
pended on  his  education  and  establishment.     The  consequent  de- 
bates were  a  scandal  to  the  nation,  a  disgrace  to  royalty,  in  the 
person  of  the  prince,  and  cruelly  insulting  to  the  princess,  as  they 
betrayed  to  her  the  fact  that  the  heir-apparent  had  accepted  her  as 
a  consort  solely  on  condition  that  his  debts  should  be  paid  off. 
AVhen  the  old  Romans  made  a  bargain,  they  confirmed  it  by  break- 
ing a  bit  of  straw  between  them.    This  straw  was  called  "  stipula,** 
and  the  Princess  Caroline  was  the  bit  of  straw  that  was  broken, 
the  stipulation,  in  fact,  whereby  it  was  agreed  that  if  he  married 
the  woman  whom  he  already  detested,  his  creditors  should  have 
satisfaction  in  full  of  all  demands  ! 

Some  of  these  were  found  heavy.  There  was  a  bill  of  40,000/. 
to  his  farrier !  Bills  like  these  were  allowed.  Not  so  an  annuity 
of  1,400/.  a  year  to  Mrs.  Crouch  the  actress.    The  parliament  took 


240 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


I 


a  commercial  view  of  the  matter,  and  disallowed  the  claim  on  the 
ground  that  there  had  been  no  valuable  consideration  for  the  lia- 
bility which  the  {)rince  had  voluntarily  incurred.  For  the  allowed 
debts,  debentures  payable  with  interest  were  given,  and  the  prince 
immediately  withdrew  into  comparative  retirement,  in  order,  as 
,.  X.ord  Moira  stated  in  the  House  of  Lords,  that  he  might  be  able 
to  save  enough  to  discharge  certain  claims  upon  his  honor.  These 
claims  were  supposed  to  exist  on  the  [>art  of  the  Landgrave  of 
Hesse  Cassel  and  the  Duke  of  Orleans,  Irom  whom  the  prince  had 
borrowed  money.  Perhaps  they  included  the  10,()(KJ/.  per  annum 
which  he  had  engaged  himself  to  pay  to  Mrs.  Fitzherbert,  whom  he 
liad  settled  in  a  superb  mansion  in  Park  Lane,  and  comforted  with 
assurances  that  his  attentions  to  her  would  be  as  devoted  now  as 
before  his  marriage !  All  this  was  an  outrage  on  the  poor  bride, 
whom  the  prince  took  down  to  Windsor  on  a  visit  to  the  king  and 
queen.  That  persons  might  not  suppose  this  was  a  commencement 
of  {wsitive  domestic  and  virtuous  life,  the  husband  took  with  him 
his  mistress,  Lady  Jersey.  The  first  gentleman  in  Euro{)e  was,  in 
this  case,  not  even  the  most  refined  of  ruffians. 

The  usual  formality,  which  George  IH.  loved,  of  visiting  the 
public  at  the  theatre,  was  observed  on  this  occasion,  and  a  short 
time  after  the  royal  marriage,  the  wedded  couple  were  accom- 
panied to  Covent  Garden  by  the  whole  of  the  royal  family.  They 
were  very  dully  entertained  with  the  rery  worst  of  O'Keefe's  com- 
edies, ''  Life's  Vagaries,"  in  which  two  cousins  fall  in  love  and 
marry  ;  and  so  perhaps  the  piece  wjis  thought  appropriate.  It  was 
followed  by  "  Windsor  Castle,"  a  piece  (Voccasion  by  Pearce,  who 
brought  together  in  it  Edward  HL,  Peleus,  the  Prince  of  Wales, 
Minerva,  Thetis,  and  the  Countess  of  Kent.  The  last  lady  is 
represented  as  expected  at  the  castle,  she  is  detained  on  her  way 
by  an  ovei-flow  of  the  Thames  which  threatens  to  drown  her,  and 
from  which  she  is  rescued  by  the  Prince  of  Wales ;  whereupon, 
all  the  heathen  gotls  and  goddesses  are  as  much  delighted  as  if 
they  formed  an  Olympian  Koyal  Humane  Society,  and  exhibit 
their  ecstasy  by  dancing  and  singing.  In  such  wise  were  our  rul- 
ers entertained  when  George  the  Third  was  king. 

Queen  Charlotte  had  looked  grimly  cold  ujwn  the  princess,  but 


CAROLINE  OF  BRUNSWICK. 


241 


she  gave  an  entertainment  in  honor  of  the  event  which  made  Car- 
oline of  Brunswick  a  Princess  of  Wales.  The  locality  was  Frog- 
more,  and  the  scene  was  brilliant,  save  that  the  hostess  looked,  as 
Lord  Malmesbury  once  described  her,  "  civil,  but  stiff,"  and  her 
daughter-in-law,  superbly  dressed,  and  black  as  midnight. 


CHAPTER   IIL 


TUE    FIKST    YEARS    OF    MARRIED    LIFE. 

The  princess  had  cause  then,  and  stronger  reason  soon  after, 
for  her  melancholy.  She  had  written  a  number  of  letters  to  her 
family  and  friends  in  Germany.  These  she  entrusted  to  the  Rev. 
Dr.  Randolph,  who  was  about  to  proceed  to  Brunswick,  for  deliv- 
ery. The  illness  of  Mrs.  Randolph  kept  the  doctor  in  England, 
and  he  returned  the  letters  to  the  Princess  of  Wales,  under  a  cover 
addressed  to  Lady  Jersey.  The  letters  fell  into  the  queen's  hands. 
This,  however,  was  only  discovered  later;  and  the  discovery 
accounted  for  the  cold  reserve  of  Queen  Charlotte  towards  the 
princess,  for  the  letters  contained  some  sarcastic  remarks  upon  the 
queen's  appearance  and  manners.  In  the  meantime,  on  the  packet 
failing  to  reach  its  proper  owner,  due  inquiry  was  made,  but  noth- 
ing further  was  discovered,  except  that  the  reverend  doctor  de- 
clared that  he  had  transmitted  it  to  Lady  Jersey,  and  that  individ- 
ual solemnly  protested  she  had  never  received  it.  That  it  reached 
Queen  Charlotte,  was  opened,  and  the  contents  read,  was  only 
ascertained  at  a  later  period. 

In  whatever  rudeness  of  expression  the  princess  may  have  in- 
dulged, her  fault  was  a  venial  one  compared  with  those  of  her 
handsome  and  worthless  husband.  While  she  was  in  almost  soli- 
tary confinement  at  Brighton,  he  was  in  London,  the  most  honored 
guest  at  many  a  brilliant  party,  with  Mrs.  Fitzherbert  for  a  com- 
panion. On  several  occasions,  these  two  were  together  even  when 
the  princess  was  present.  The  latter,  by  this  time,  knew  of  the 
private  marriage  of  her  husband  with  the  lady,  and  that  he  had 

Vol.  IL— 11 


r-  ! 


242 


LIVES  OF  THE    QUEENS  OF   ENGLAND. 


CAROLINE   OF   BRUNSWICK. 


243 


denied,  through  Fox,  who  was  made  the  mouthpiece  of  the  lie,  that 
his  "  friendship"  with  Mrs.  Fitzherbert  had  ever  gone  to  the  ex- 
tent of  marriage.  If  we  have  to  censure  the  after-conduct  of  the 
princess,  let  us  not  forget  this  abominable  provocation. 

Except  from  the  kindly-natured  old  king,  Caroline  experienced 
little  kindness,  even  during  the  time  immediately  previous  to  the 
birth  of  her  only  child,  the  Princess  Charlotte.  This  event  took 
place  at  ten  in  the  morning  of  the  7th  of  January,  1796,  amid  the 
usual  solemn  formalities  and  the  ordinary  witnesses.  Addresses  of 
congratulation  were  not  lacking.  Among  them  the  City  of  London 
prepared  one  for  the  prince,  but  the  conventionally  "  ha[)py  father," 
who  had  looked  down  upon  his  legitimate  child  with  the  simply 
fond  critical  remark  that  **  it  was  a  fine  girl,"  declined  to  receive 
the  congratulations  of  the  City,  unless  in  private.  Coriolanus  had 
wounds  which  he  would  only  show  in  private,  and  if  the  London 
corporation  insisted  on  alluding  to  the  prince's  alleged  joys,  he  was 
resolved  that  it,  also,  should  only  be  in  private.  The  pretext  given 
was  that  a  public  reception  was  too  expensive  a  matter  in  the 
prince's  reduced  condition  ;  and  the  pretext  was  so  insulting  to  the 
common  sense  of  the  corporation,  that  the  members  veiy  properly 
refused  to  "  go  up"  at  all. 

The  truth  was,  that  the  prince  shrunk  from  being  congratulated 
upon  his  prospects  as  a  husband,  seeing  that  he  was  about  to  sepa- 
rate himself  for  ever  from  the  society  of  his  wife.  The  latter  had 
caused  the  removal  of  Lady  Jersey  from  her  household.  This  wa3 
effected  by  the  hearty  intervention  of  him  whom  the  Scottish  jm- 
pers  not  inaptly  called  that  *'  decent  man,  the  king." 

The  intimation  of  the  prince's  desire  for  a  separation,  was  con- 
veyed to  the  Princess  of  Wales  by  Lady  Cholmondeley.  Her 
royal  highness  made  only  two  remarks — first,  that  her  husband's 
desire  should  be  conveyed  to  her,  directly  from  himself,  in  writing, 
and  that  if  a  separation  were  now  insisted  on,  the  former  intimacy 
should  never,  under  any  circumstances,  be  resumed. 

If  his  royal  highness  had  acceded  to  all  his  consort's  wishes  with 
the  alacrity  with  which  he  fulfilled  this  one  in  particular,  there 
would  have  been  more  happiness  at  their  hearth.  In  his  letter  to 
her  he  said,  "  Our  inclinations  are  not  in  our  ix)wer,  nor  should 


either  of  us  be  held  answerable  to  the  other,  because  nature  has  not 
made  us  suitable  to  each  other.  Tranquillity  and  comfortable  so- 
ciety are,  however,  in  our  power;  let  our  intercourse,  therefore,  be 
restricted  to  that."  It  is  what  PVoissart  might  caU  *' sadly 
amusing"  to  find  him  offering  tranquillity  when  he  was  predisposed 
to  persecute,  and  recommending  that  their  intercourse  should  take 
the  character  of  a  ^*  comfortable  society,"  when  he  was  about  to 
turn  her  out  of  her  home,  and  without  any  greater  fault  laid  to  her 
charge  than  that  she  had  outlived  his  liking.  With  regard  to  the 
princess's  expressed  determination  that  if  there  were  a  separation 
now,  it  must  be  "  once  and  forever,"  he  agreed  to  it  with  alacrity ; 
*'  even  in  the  event,"  he  said,  "  of  any  accident  happening  to  my 
daughter,  which  I  trust  Providence  in  its  mercy  will  avert,  I  shall 
not  infringe  the  terms  of  the  restriction,  by  proposing,  at  any  peri- 
od, a  connection  of  a  more  particular  nature." 

Her  royal  highness,  in  her  reply,  acknowledged  that  his  conduct 
during  the  year  of  their  married  life  saved  her  from  being  sur- 
prised by  the  communication  addressed  to  her.  She  does  not  com- 
l)lain,  desires  it  only  to  be  publicly  understood  that  the  arrange- 
ment is  not  of  her  seeking,  and  that  "  the  honor  of  it  belongs  to 
you  alone;"  and  appeals  to  the  king  as  her  protector,  whose  appro- 
bation, if  he  can  award  as  much  to  her  conduct,  would  in  some  de- 
gree console  her.  "  I  retain,"  she  thus  concludes,  "  every  sentiment 
of  gratitude  for  the  situation  in  which  I  find  myself  enabled,  as 
Princess  of  WiUes,  by  your  means  to  surrender  myself  unconstrain- 
edly  to  the  exercise  of  a  virtue  dear  to  my  heart — I  mean  charity. 

It  will  be  my  duty,  also,  to  be  influenced  by  another  motive 

desire  to  give  an  example  of  patience  and  resignation  under  every 
trial." 

Exactly  after  a  year's  experience  of  married  life — no  fair  expe- 
rience, however,  of  such  a  life,  one  during  which  she  had  more 
reai^ons  to  be  disgusted  with  his  excesses  than  he  with  her  way- 
wardness— the  luckless  pair  finally  separated.  The  princess's 
allowance  was  at  first  fixed  at  20,000/.  per  annum,  but,  after  some 
undignified  haggling  on  both  sides,  touching  money,  the  princess 
declined  the  allowance  proposed,  and  throwing  herself  on  the  gen- 


244 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


erosity  of  the  prince,  rendered  him  liable  for  the  debts  she  might 
possibly  contract. 

With  a  few  ladies,  the  princess  retired  to  a  small  residence  at 
Charlton,  near  Woolwich,  but  on  being  appointed  ranger  of  Green- 
wich Pai'k,  she  removed  to  Montague  House,  on  Blackheath,  where 
she  had  the  care  of  her  daughter,  was  verj*  frequently  visited  by 
the  king,  and  never  on  any  occasion  by  her  majesty.  The  kind's 
name  was,  indeed,  a  tower  of  strength  to  her  ;  the  queen's  expressed 
aversion  by  no  means  affected  i)ublic  opinion.  The  public  looked 
upon  it  as  an  exemplification  of  the  saying  which  tells  us  that  a 
virtue  carried  to  excess  may  become  a  vice. 

At  this  period  her  income  was  settled.  It  was  partly  derived 
from  the  prince,  who  contributed  to  her,  as  "  Princess  of  Wales," 
12,000/.  per  annum.  The  exchequer  supplied  another  5000/. ;  the 
droits  of  the  admiralty  added  occasionally  a  few  pecuniary  grants ; 
and  altogether  her  revenue  amounted  to  about  the  same  which  she 
had  previously  declined  to  accept.  With  it  she  appeared  content, 
lived  quietly,  cultivated  her  garden,  looked  after  the  poor,  taught 
or  superintended  the  teaching  of  several  poor  children,  and,  with- 
out a  court,  had  a  very  pleasant  society  about  her,  with  whom, 
however,  she  was  alternately  mirthful  and  melancholy. 

If  her  residence  at  Blackheath  was  in  many  respects  a  sad  one, 
it  was  not  without  its  sunny  side.  There  were  joyous  parties  there 
occasionally,  and  the  friends  of  the  princess,  in  spite  of  their  sor- 
rows and  indignation,  contrived,  with  their  illustrious  protegee,  to 
pass  a  merry  time  of  it  between  the  lulls  of  the  stoiin.  The  mer- 
riest hours  there,  were  those  passed  in  playing  at  blind  man's  buff, 
where  the  princess  herself,  that  grave  judge.  Sir  William  Scott, 
and  that  equally  grave  senator,  George  Canning,  were  the  spright- 
liest  at  the  game.  It  is  a  game  which  has  been  dignified  by 
another  fallen  potentate,  and  Napoleon  Bonaparte,  at  St.  Helena, 
made  more  than  one  hour  glad  by  a  romping  game  at  blind  man's 
buff  with  the  ladies  and  children  at  the  house  of  Colonel  Wilkes. 

The  Princess  of  Wales  had  not  been  long  a  resident  at  Montague 
House,  before  her  daughter,  the  Princess  Chariotte,  was  removed 
to  a  man>ion  in  the  %'icinity,  where,  under  the  superintendence  of 
Lady  Elgin,  her  early  education  was  commenced,  with  favorable 


CAROLINE  OF  BRUNSWICK. 


245 


auspices.  It  may,  however,  be  questioned  whether  that  be  a  proper 
tei-m  to  employ  in  a  case  where  a  mother  is  deprived  of  the  right 
to  superintend  the  education  of  her  own  child.  But  it  must  be  al- 
lowed, that  though  the  Princess  of  Wales  had  a  little  taste,  about 
the  same  amount  of  knowledge,  and  could  stick  natural  flowers  on 
ground  glass,  so  as  to  deceive  the  most  minutely  examining,  or  the 
most  courtly  of  Germans,  she  was  as  little  capable  of  being  govern- 
ess to  her  own  daughter,  as  her  mother  had  been  of  being  instruct- 
ress to  the  Princess  Caroline.  The  interviews  between  the  latter 
and  the  Princess  Charlotte  now  occurred  but  once  a-week,  and 
under  the  circumstances,  that  was  as  frequent  interviews  as  could 
be  permitted.  The  little  princess,  meanwhile,  did  not  fare  badly, 
nor  did  she  lack  wit,  or  lose  opportunity  of  showing  it.  She  de- 
lighted Dr.  Porteus,  Bishop  of  London,  who,  during  a  visit,  had 
told  her  that  when  she  repaired,  as  was  intended,  to  Southend,  for 
sea-bathing,  she  would  then  be  in  his  diocese, — by  at  once  going 
down  on  her  knees  and  askin*?  his  blessinor. 

Her  poor  mother  was  always  as  ready  to  make  friends,  but  she 
wanted  judgment  to  balance  her  tenderness.  She  never  had  such 
cause  to  repent  at  leisure  for  over-hastiness  of  action  as  when  she 
made  the  acquaintance  of  Sir  John  and  Lady  Douglas.  The 
former  was  an  otiicer  lately  returned  from  Egypt,  the  latter  was 
the  mother  of  an  infant  whose  reported  beauty' inspired  the  prin- 
cess with  a  desire  to  see  it.  Without  any  previous  intimation  to 
Lady  Douglas,  with  whom  she  was  totally  unacquainted,  the  prin- 
cess, one  winter  morning,  the  snow  lying  deep  upon  the  ground, 
crossed  the  heath,  "  in  a  lilac-satin  pelisse,  primrose-colored  half- 
boots,  and  a  small  lilac  travelling-cap,  furred  with  sable,"  and  pre- 
sented herself  at  the  gate  of  Lady  Douglas's  house.  She  was  in- 
vited to  enter,  under  the  supposition  that  she  wished  to  rest.  She 
did  not  see  the  infant,  but  there  was  an  old  Lady  Stuart  there, 
quite  as  childish,  and  of  her,  the  lady  in  attendance  upon  the  prin- 
cess (during  the  hour  the  visit  lasted),  made  some  "fun;"  the 
same  old  lady  "  being  a  singular  character,  and  talking  all  kind 
of  nonsense." 

It  was  in  all  respects  an  evil  hour  when  this  acquaintance  was 
first  formed.     It  ripened,  for  a  time,  into  intimacy,  and  when  the 


246 


LIVES   OF  THE   QUEENS   OF   ENGLAND. 


CAROLINE  OF  BRUNSWICK. 


247 


mutual  intercourse  was  at  its  highest,  in  1802,  the  princess,  who 
had  a  strong  inclination  to  patronize  infants,  and  had  several  placed 
out  at  nurse,  at  her  charge,  in  a  house  upon  the  heath,  "  took  a 
liking"*  for  the  infant  son  of  a  poor  couple  named  Austin.  The 
boy  was  bom  in  Brownlow-street  lying-in-hospital,  and  ]Mrs. 
Austin  was  his  mother.  These  two  imjwrtant  facts  were  estab- 
lished beyond  all  doubt.  Why  the  princess  should  have  resolved 
to  take  personal  charge  of  so  young  an  infant,  only  a  few  months 
old,  almost  defies  conjecture.  It  may,  perhaps,  be  accounted  for 
by  the  fact  that  she  knew  she  was  narrowly  M-atched  by  enemies 
who  felt  an  interest  in  accomplishing  her  ruin,  and  she  was  elated 
with  the  idea  of  mystifying  them  by  the  presence  of  an  inflint  at 
Montague  House. 

However  this  may  have  been,  the  intercourse  with  the  Douglases 
continued  with  some  degree  of  warmth  on  both  sides.  It  was  ul- 
timately broken  off  by  the  princess,  who  had  been  warned  to  be  on 
her  guard  against  Lady  Douglas,  as  a  dangerous  and  not  very 
irreproachable  character;  and  thereon,  the  Princess  of  Wales 
declined  to  receive  any  more  visits  from  her.  The  baronet  and 
his  lady,  with  Sir  Sidney  Smith,  a  very  intimate  friend  of  both 
parties,  so  incessantly  besieged  the  princess  for  some  exphmation 
of  her  conduct,  that  she  at  length  called  into  her  council,  her 
brother-in-law,  the  Duke  of  Kent. 

The  duke  consented  to  see  Sir  Sidney  Smith  upon  the  subject, 
and  from  him  his  royal  highness  learned  that  Sir  John  was  not 
so  much  aggrieved  at  the  refusal  of  the  princess  to  receive  Lady 
Douglas,  as  he  was  at  an  anonymous  letter,  accompanying  a  coarse 
drawing  representing  Sir  Sidney  and  Lady  Douglas  which  had 
been  forwarded  to  him,  and  of  which  he  believed  the  princess  to 
be  the  author. 

The  Duke  of  Kent  was  a  little  too  credulous,  but  he  did  not  act 
unwisely.  Apparently  afraid  that  there  was  ground  for  the  charge 
implied  by  Sir  John,  he  was  still  more  fearful  of  the  effect  the 
knowledge  of  it  would  have  upon  the  king,  then  in  a  higlilv  nervous 
condition,  and  he  was  more  than  all  afraid  of  the  evil  consequences 
it  might  have,  if  divulged,  of  exasperating  the  existing  fierce  quar- 
rel between  the  Prince  of  Wales  and  the  king,  whose  visit  to  the 


princess  excited  the  utmost  wrath  in  the  bosom  of  the  prince ; 
taking  all  these  circumstances  into  consideration,  he  succeeded  in 
advising  the  parties  to  "  let  the  matter  drop."  Sir  John  consented 
to  do  so,  if  he  were  left  unmolested.  It  must  be  added  that  Lord 
Cholmondeley,  who  was  perfectly  acquainted  with  the  princess's 
hand-writing,  pronounced  the  letter  as  certainly  not  having  been 
written  by  her.  Of  the  drawing  he  could  form  no  opinion,  except 
.  one  not  at  all  flattering  to  the  artist. 

It  was  not  likely  that  the  matter  would  rest  as  the  Duke  of  Kent 
desired.  Sir  John  himself  was  not  as  quiescent  as  he  had  pro- 
mised to  be,  and  the  details  already  mentioned  came  to  the  ears  of 
the  Duke  of  Sussex.  The  latter  considered  it  his  duty  to  make 
report  thereof  to  the  Prince  of  Wales ;  and  the  heir-apparent,  of 
course,  called  upon  Lady  Douglas  for  a  statement.  His  request 
was  complied  with,  and  a  deposition  was  taken  down  from  the 
lady's  own  lips.  It  is  a  document  of  too  great  length  to  be  inserted 
here,  but  its  chief  points  may  be  stated.  It  professed  great  admi- 
ration of  the  Prince  of  Wales,  and  the  exact  reverse  of  his  consort. 
It  detailed  the  circumstances  of  the  origin  of  the  acquaintance  be- 
tween the  princess  and  Lady  Douglas,  and  of  the  latter  becoming 
one  of  the  ladies-in-waiting  to  the  former.  The  princess  was  de- 
scribed as  coarse  in  character,  loose  in  conversation,  and  impure 
in  action.  Circumstances  were  detailed  of  her  alleged  intrigues, 
of  her  attempt  to  corrui)t  the  virtue  of  Lady  Douglas  herself,  of 
trying  to  seduce  her  into  the  commission  of  very  serious  sin,  and 
of  her  laughing  at  her  for  not  yielding  to  the  seduction. 

The  lady  went  on  to  describe  the  common  talk  of  the  princess 
as  beinir  such  as  to  disgrust  the  men,  and  to  cause  mothers  to  send 
away  their  daughters  if  the  latter  happened  to  be  listeners.  The 
queen  was  said  to  be  the  especial  object  of  the  ridicule  of  the 
princess,  and  she  hinted  at  an  improper  intercourse  existing  be- 
tween her  majesty  and  Mr.  Addington.  The  whole  royal  family, 
it  was  further  alleged,  were  the  objects  of  her  satire  ;  but  all  the 
statements  in  the  dej>osition  fades  into  nothing  before  one  respect- 
ing the  princess  in  which  the  latter  is  represented  as  confessing  to 
Lady  Douglas  that  she  was  about  to  become  a  mother ;  laughing 
heartily  at  the  confession  itself;  hinting  that  it  would  not  be  diffi- 


248 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


cul    to  fix  the  paternity  on  the  prince,  and  ending  by  declaring 
that  the  matter  would  be  .etllad  satisfactorily  by  m.iking  the  world 
beheve  that  she  had  adopted  an  infant  bc-longing  to  :ome  other 
person.     The  deponent  then  says  that  she  saw  the  princess  a  short 
time  previous  to  her  alleged  adoption  of  the  child  (subsenuentlv 
proved  to  be  the  son  of  the  Austins) ;  that  then  her  condhion  of 
health  was  not  to  be  mistaken,  and  that  some  time  subsequently, 
she  saw  the  child  and  princess  together,  and  that  the  latter  lau.»h' 
mgly  acknowMgcd  it  to  be  her  own.     The  immediately  succeed- 
ing details  will  not  bear  telling;  and  this  is  the  less  necessary,  ts 
tbey  are  excessively  improbable,  and  were  pix^ved  to  be  unn^uc. 
They  are  followed  by  others  regarding  the  coohess  which  sprung 
up  between  the  princess  and  lady,  with  consequent  squabbles  an3 
final  separation  at  the  end  of  1803.     I„  conclusion,  «l  hea   of  the 
return  of  the  Douglasses  from  Devonshire,  the  refUl  of  the  p.  n 
2^  to  receive  her  ormcr  lady-in-waiting,  the  receipt  of  the  anony- 
mous letters  and  drawings,  the  appeal  to  the  Duke  of  Ken.  "he 

mITu::rT    ";«'''""''''^-^'  "-"  '-"^■'  "•«  -mmunication 
made  to  th.  Duke  of  Sussex,  which  the  latter  conveyed  to  the 

Prince  of  Wales,  and  which  was  followed  by  the  deposition  of 
Inch  I  have  endeavored,  however  imperfectly,  to  furnis  .  a  Zlnfe 
that  may  be  comprehended  without  giving  offence.  Tho.e  "d.o 
are  acquainted  with  the  original  documenrwiil  allow  tluat'hs 
no  very  easy  task.  '""  '* 

Upon  this  statement,  made  in  1805,  a  commission  was  formed 
January    180G,  -\\ilham  Cole,  page  to  the  princess.     He  was  a 

the  lrmce.,of  A\ales,for  no  worse  offence  than  looking  indi<T,ant 
at  conduct  between  his  mistress  and  Sir  Sidney  Smith  S 
shocked  him,  the  page.  lie  described  various  immoral  pro  "d- 
ngs  as  having  gone  on  during  his  residence,  that  he  had  hea  d  of 
worse  after  las  departure  from  other  servants ;  ^articularly  fron^ 
Janny  Lloyd,  who  had  kindly  infonned  him  of  tlfe  yJXmoZ 
eondue  of  her  royal  highness  ^a  Captain  Manby  of'he  Rofa 

1804  ,  and  Cole  a.Idcd  that  he  himself  had  witnessed  conduct  Z 


CAROLINE  OF  BRUNSWICK. 


249 


infamous,  between  the  princess  and  "  Lawrence  the  painter "  as 
early  as  1801,  ' 

Another  witness,  Bidgood,  who  after  being  in  the  service  of  the 
Prince  of  Wales  near  a  quarter  of  a  century,  was  transferred  to 
that  of  the  princess  in  1798,  went  farther  than  his  predecessors. 
The  least  offensive  part  of  his  depositions  was  that  in  which  he 
8wore  that  he  had  seen  Captain  Manby  kiss  the  princess,  who  was 
in  tears  at  his  leaving  her.  This  witness  spoke  to  alleged  facts 
equally  startling,  respecting  her  royal  highness  and  Captain  Hood. 
The  depositions  of  the  female  servants  were  even  more  strong  in 
the  coarseness  and  weight  of  testimony  against  the  princess.  °AU 
these  persons,  it  must  be  remembered,  were  appointed  to  serve 
her ;  she  herself  having  had  no  voice  in  the  selection.  When 
they  became  witnesses  against  her  she  was  not  allowed  to  know 
the  nature  of  their  evidence. 

It  was  in  con.-^equence  of  their  allegations  having  been  submitted 
to  his  majesty  that  the  king  issued  his  warrant  in  May,  180G,  to 
lords  Erskine,  Grenville,  Spencer,  and  Ellenborough,  whereby 
they  were  directed  to,  inquire  into  the  truth  or  falsehood  of  these 
allegations,  and  report  accordingly. 

The  witnesses  were  all  examined  on  oath ;  and  it  is  due  to  Sir 
John  Douglas  to  say,  that  he  seemed  to  wish  to  make  of  his 
evidence  a  simple  account  of  hearsay  communications  from  his 
wife.  He  knew  nothing  of  what  had  taken  place  between  his  wife 
and  the  princess,  but  what  the  former  had  told  him  of  long  after 
the  period  of  its  occurrence.  He  swore,  however,  to  having  been 
convinced  that  the  princess  was  about  to  become  a  mother.  The 
depositions  of  most  of  these  witnesses  varied  considerably  from 
those  previously  made  by  them,  and  fresh  witnesses,  caUed  to 
prove  the  case  against  the  princess,  did  more  harm  than  good  to 
their  own  side.  Others,  who  were  servants  of  the  princess,  dis- 
tmctly  denied  that  the  allegations  made  against  her  were  true. 
The  proof  that  young  Austin  was  simply  an  adopted  child  was 
complefe.  The  commissioners  were  unanimous  on  this  point,  and 
therewith  was  established  the  falsehood  of  the  depositions  made  by 
the  Dougla:^es  with  respect  to  it.  The  commissioners,  however, 
did  not  feel  so  certain  upon  the  other  items  of  evidence ;  and  they 

11* 


250 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OP  ENGLAND. 


CAROLINE  OF  BRUNSWICK. 


251 


gave  It  as  their  opinion,  not  that  the  princess  should  be  held  in- 
nocent until  she  could  be  proved  guilty,  but  that  the  allegations 
should  be  credited  until  they  could  be  satisfactorily  disproved. 
Never  was  accused  woman  more  hardly  used  than  the  princess 
•  m  this  matter.     For  a  long  time  she  knew  nothing  of  the  nature 
ot  the  evidence  tendered  against  her ;  and  every  obstacle  was,  for 
as  long  a  time  as  possible,  put  in  her  way  to  rendcrin^r  the  «ati<^. 
factory  answer,  wanting  which  the  commissioners,  thou-h  they 
acquitted  her  of  high  treason,  thought  she  must  be  held  mum 
convicted  of  immorality.  She  was  equal,  however,  to  every  difficulty 
and  she  did  not  lack  assistance.     Mr.  Perceval  wrote,  in  her  name 
a  memorial  to  the  king,  which  is  a  masterpiece  of  ability,  so  search- 
mgly  does  it  sift  the  evidence,  crush  what  was  unfavorable  to  her 
point  out  where  she  had  a  triumph,  even  ^vithout  a  witness  in- 
dignantly deny  the  charges  laid  against  her,,  and  which  she  had 
not  hitherto  been  permitted  to  disprove,  and  touchingly  appeal 
to  her  only  protector,  the  king  himself,  for  a  continuance  of  his 
favor  to  one  not  unworthy  of  that  for  which  she  so  ardently  peti- 
tions.    The  memorial  would  almost  occupy  this  volume  entirely  • 
It  IS  only  possible,  therefore,  thus  to  describe  and  refer  to  it      A 
passage  or  two  from  the  conclusion  will  give,  however,  some' idea 
ot  its  spirit : — 

"In  happier  days  of  my  life,  before  my  spirit  had  been  yet  at 
all  lowered  by  my  misfortunes,  I  should  have  been  disposed  to 
have  met  such  a  charge  with  the  contempt  which    I  trust  by  this 
time,  your  Majesty  thinks  due  to  it ;  I  should  have  been  disposed 
to  have  defied  my  enemies  to  the  utmost,  and  to  have  scorned  to 
answer  to  anything  but  a  legal  charge  before  a  competent  tribunal. 
But  m  my  present  misfortunes  such  force  of  mind  is  -one      I 
ought,  perhaps,  so  far  to  be  thankful  to  them  for  their  wMe^ome 
lessons  of  humility.     I  have  therefore  entered  into  this  Ion-  detail 
to  endeavor  to  remove  at  the  first  possible  opportunity  Iny  un- 
favorable  impressions,  to  rescue  myself  fn)m  the  dangers  which 
the  continuaiice  of  these  suspicions  might  occasion,  and  to  preserve 
to  me  your  Majesty's  good  opinson,  in  whose  kindness,  hitherto,  I 
have  found  infinite  consolation,  and  to  whose  justice,  under  all 
circumstances,  I  can  confidently  appeal." 


The  memorial,  however,  would  have  been  of  very  little  worth, 
but  for  the  depositions  by  which  it  was  accompanied.  Thesf*  were 
sworn  to,  not  by  discarded  servants,  but  by  men  of  character — men 
that  is,  of  reputation.  Thus  Captain  Manby,  on  oath,  replies  to 
the  allegation  of  Bidgood  that  he  had  seen  the  Captain  kiss  the 
Princess  of  Wales : — "  It  is  a  vile  and  wicked  invention,  wholly 
and  absolutely  false  ;  it  is  imj)ossible  that  he  could  ever  have  seen 
any  such  thing,  as  I  never  upon  any  occasion,  or  in  any  situation, 
had  the  presumption  to  salute  her  royal  highness  in  any  such 
manner,  or  to  take  any  such  liberty,  as  to  offer  any  such  insult  to 
her  person."  To  Bidgood's  allegation  that  the  Captain's  frequent 
sleeping  in  the  house  was  a  subject  of  constant  conversation  with 
the  servants ;  Captain  Manby  again  declares  upon  oath,  that  he 
never  in  his  life  slept  in  any  house  any  where  that  had  ever  been  oc- 
cupied by  her  royal  highness.  "  Never,"  he  adds,  "  did  anything 
pass  between  her  royal  highness  and  myself,  that  I  should  be  in 
any  degree  unwilling  that  all  the  world  should  have  seen." 

This  was  conclusive ;  the  deposition  of  Lawrence,  the  great 
artist,  was  not  less  crushing.  In  answer  to  a  strongly  worded  de- 
position of  Cole,  the  page,  Lawrence  declares  on  oath  that  during 
the  time  he  was  painting  the  portrait  of  the  princess  at  Montagu 
House,  he  never  was  alone  with  her,  but  upon  one  occasion,  and 
then  simply  to  answer  a  question  put  to  him  at  a  moment  he  was 
about  to  retire  with  the  rest  of  the  company.  Like  Captain  Man- 
by, he  solemnly  swears  that  nothing  ever  passed  between  her 
royal  highness  and  himself  which  he  would  have  the  least  objection 
that  all  the  world  should  see  and  hear. 

One  of  the  female  servants  had  accused  Mr.  Edmondes,  the 
surgeon  to  her  royal  highness's  household,  of  having  acknowledg- 
ed circumstances  touching  the  princess,  which,  if  true,  would  have 
proved  her  to  have  been  the  very  basest  of  women.  Mr.  f^dmondes 
was  said  to  have  made  this  statement  to  a  menial  servant,  after 
having  bled  her  royal  highness.  That  gentleman,  however,  denied 
on  oath  that  he  had  ever  made  such  a  statement  as  the  one  in 
question ;  and  perhaps  the  animus  of  the  inquisitors  was  betrayed 
on  the  reiterated  denial  of  Mr.  Edmondes,  by  a  remark  to  him  of 
Lord  Moira.     "Lord  Moira,"  says  the  surgeon,  "with  his  hands 


252 


LIVES  OF  TUE  QUEENS  0¥  K.\GLAND. 


behmd  h,m,  lus  head  over  his  shoulder,  his  eye  directed  towards 
me,  with  a  sort  of  smile,  observed,*  that  he  could  not  help  thinking 
there  must  be  somH/nnff  in  the  servant's  deposition,'  as  if  he  did 
not  give  perfect  credence  to  what  I  said." 

Mr.  Mills,  another  medical  man  attached  to  the  princess's  l.ouse- 
10  d  and  also  accused  by  a  female  servant  of  having  intimated,  in 
1802,  that  her  royal  highness  was  in  a  fair  way  of  becomi,,,.  a 
mo  her  proved  that  he  had  not  been  in  the  house  since  1801,  a^nd 
Tleclare,   .he  accusation  to  be  a  most  infamous  faI.ehoo<l.     Finally 
two  of  the  men  servants  at  Montague  House  swore  to  having  seen 
Lady  Douglas  and  Bidgood  in  communication  with  each  other 
hat  ,s,  meetmg  and  conversing  together,  a  short  time  previous  to 
the  commission  of  inquiry  being  opened. 

With  respect  to  the  alleged  familiarities  said  to  have  taken  place 
between  the  princess  and  Sir  Sidney  Smith,  the  princess  hei^elf 
remarks  upon  them,  in  the  memorial  addressed  by  her  to  the  kin", 
o   he  effect  that  "if  his  visiting  frequently  at  Montague  Housl 
both  wuh   Sir  John  and  Lady  Doughis,  and  without  them ;  at 
luncheon,  dinner,  and  supper;  and  staying  with  the  rest  of  the 
company  till  t<vclve  or  one  o'clock,  or  even  later;  if  those  were 
.^ome  of  the  facts  which  must  give  oc«ision  to  unfavorable  inter- 
pretations, they  were  facts  which  she  could  never  contradict,  for 
hey  were  periectly  true."     She  further  admits   that   Sir  Sidney 
iKul  paid  her  morning  visits,  and  that  they  had  frequently  on  such 
oc-casions  been  alone      M5ut,"..ud  the  memorial  "if  suffering  a 
n  an  to  be  so  alone  is  evidence  of  guilt,  fi^m  whence  the  com- 

to  rrr  r  r  "  --"'y  "■"'"-'•"'''•^  "■*■"<=-«.  I  m-t  leave  them 
to  dr.iw  It,  fori  cannot  deny  that  it  has  happened  frequently  not 
only  with  Sir  Sidney  Smith,  but  with  m-'ly  othersi^Jm  n 
who  have  visited  me-tradesmen  who  have' come  for°orde^ 

i'-ngl.sh-that  I  have  received  them  without  any  one  bein<.  by      I 

ran'l  ,1         ''T  ''""'  ^'"  "°"""S  '"""°'"'  '"  "'«  thing 
t.o  f,  and  I  have  understood  tliat  it  was  quite  usual  for  ladies  of 

rank  and  character  to  receive  the  visits  of  gentlemen  in  the  Zm- 

•ng,  though  thoy  might  be  themselves  alone  at  the  time      ButTf 


CAROLINE   OF  BRUNSWICK. 


253 


this  is  thDught  improper  in  England,  I  hope  every  candid  mind 
will  make  allowance  for  the  different  notions  which  my  forei^^n 
education  and  habits  may  have  given  me." 

Nine  weeks  elapsed  since  the  princess  had  addressed  the  above 
memorial  and  depositions  to  the  king,  and  still  no  reply  reached 
her,  except  an  intimation  through  the  Lord  Chancellor  that  his 
majesty  had  read  the  documents  in  question,  and  had  ordered  thorn 
to  be  submitted  to  the  commissioners.     She   complained,  justly 
enough,  at  being  left  nine   weeks  without  knowledge  as  to  what 
judgment  the  commissioners  had  formed  of  the  report,  drawn  up  in 
reply  to  their  sentence,  which  acquitted  her  of  gross  guilt,  yet  left 
her  under  the  weight  of  an  accusation  of  having  acted  in  a  manner 
unbecoming  her  high  station,  or  indeed  unbecoming  a  woman  in 
any  station.     From  such  delay,  she  said,  the  world  began  to  infer 
her  guilt,  in  total  ignorance,  as  they  were,  of  the  real  state  of  the 
facts.     "  I  feel  myself,"  she  then  said,  "  sinking  in  the  estimation 
of  your  majesty's  subjects,  as   well  as  what   remains  to  me  of  my 
own  family,  into  (a  state  intolerable  to  a  mind  conscious  of  its  own 
purity  and  innocence)  a  state  in  which  my  honor  appears  at  least 
equivocal,  and  my  virtue  is  suspected.     From  this  state  I  humbly 
entreat  your  majesty  to  perceive,  that  I  can  have  no  hope  of  being 
restored  until  either  your  majesty's  favorable  opinion  shall  be  gra- 
ciously notified  to  the  world,  by  receiving  me  again  into  the  royal 
presence,  or  until  the  false  disclosures  of  the  facts  shall  expose  the 
malice  of  my  accusers,  and  do  away  every  j^ossible  ground  for  un- 
favorable inference  and  conjecture." 

The  princ«?ss  then  alluded  to  the  fact  that  the  occasion  of  as- 
sembling the  royal  family  and  the  king's  subjects  "in  dutiful  and 
happy  commemoration  of  her  majesty's  birth- day"  was  then  at 
hand  ;  and  she  intimated  that  if  the  commissioners  were  prevented 
from  presenting  their  final  report  before  that  time,  and  that  conse- 
quently, at  such  a  period,  she  should  be  without  any  knowledge  of 
the  king's  pleasure,  the  world  would  infallibly  conclude  that  her- 
answers  to  the  charges  must  have  proved  altogether  unsatisfactory, 
and  the  really  infamous  charges  would  be  accounted  of  as  too  true. 

Some  months  longer,  notwithstanding  this  urgent  appeal,  was  the 
princess  kept  in  suspense.     There  seemed  a  determination  existing 


254 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF   ENGLAND. 


^  eomewhere,  that  if  her  accusers  could  not  prove  her  guilt,  she  should 
at  least  not  be  permitted  to  substantiate  her  innocence.  At  length 
on  the  25th  of  January,  1807,  the  king  having  referred  the  entire 
matter,  with  her  royal  highness's  letters,  to  the  cabinet  ministers, 
the  latter  delivered  themselves  of  their  lengthily  gestated  resolu- 
tion. 

The  ministers  modestly  declared  themselves  an  incompetent  tri- 
bunal to  pronounce  judicially  a  verdict  o^  guilty  or  not  guilty,  upon 
any  person  of  whatever  rank.     Their  office  was  indeed,  more  that 
of  grand  jurymen,  called  upon  to  pronounce  whether  a  charo-e  is 
based  upon  such  grounds,  however  slight,  as  to  justify  further  pro- 
ceedings against  the  person  accused.     They  acquitted  the  princess 
by  their  judgment  that  further  proceedings  were  not  called  for,  but, 
having  been  requested  by  the  king  to  counsel  him  as  to  the  reply 
he  should  render  to  his  daughter-in-law,  the  nature  of  such  counsel 
may  be  seen  in  the  royal  answer  to  the  princess's  memorial.     The 
king  exculpated  her  from  the  most  infamous  portion  of  the  charge 
brought  against  her  by  Lady  Douglas,  and  declared  that  no  further 
legal  proceedings  would  be  taken  except  with  a  view  of  punishing 
that  appalling  slanderer.     Of  the  other  allegations  stated  in  the 
preliminary  examinations,  the  king  declared  that  none  of  them 
would  be  considered  as  legally  or  conclusively  established.     But, 
.  said  the  king,  and  severely  imperative  as  wiis  this  sovereign  but,  it 
wa^  not  uncalled  for—"  In  these  examinations,  and  even  in  the 
answer  drawn  in  the  name  of  the  princess  by  her  legal  advisers, 
there  have  appeared  circumstances  of  conduct  on  the  part  of  the' 
princess,  which  his  majesty  never  could  regard  but  with  serious 
concern.     The  elevated  rank  which  the  princess  holds  in  this  coun- 
try,  and  the  relation  in  which  she  stands  to  his  majesty  and  the 
royal  family,  must  always  deeply  involve  both  the  interests  of  the 
state,  and  the  personal  feelings  of  his  majesty,  in  the  propriety  and 
correctness  of  her  conduct.     And  his  majesty  cannot,  therefore, 
•  forbear  to  express,  in  the  conclusion  of  the  business,  his  desire  and 
expectation  that,  in  future,  such  a  conduct  may  be  observed  by  the 
princess  as  may  fully  justify  those   marks  of  paternal  regard  and 
affection  which  the  king  always  wishes  to  show  to  every  part  of 
the  royal  family."  .  '^ 


CAROLINE   OF  BRUNSWICK. 


255 


Tliere  is  no  doubt  that  this  admonition  was  seriously  called  for. 
The  conduct  of  the  princess  had  been  that  of  an  indiscreet,  rash, 
and  over-bold  woman.  At  the  court  of  the  two  preceding  Georges 
such  conduct  would  only  have  been  called  lively ;  but  the  example 
of  Charlotte  had  put  an  end  to  such  vivacity.  The  Queen  Caro- 
line of  the  former  reign  had,  in  her  conversations  with  Sir  Robert 
Walpole,  especially,  gone  far  beyond  the  gaiety  of  the  dialogues 
maintained  by  the  Princess  Caroline  and  Sir  Sidney  Smith,  under 
George  the  Third.  But  the  princess  was  as  yet  "  without  blemish," 
only  in  the  degree  that  Queen  Caroline  was.  She  was  not  deli- 
cately minded,  and  was  defiant  of  the  court-world  when  she  had 
been  cast  out  from  it  unjustly.  The  two  Carolines  were  wronged 
in  much  the  same  degree,  but  the  husband  of  the  one  respected  the 
virtue  of  the  wife  whom  he  insulted ;  the  husband  of  the  other  had 
no  respect  for  either  virtue  or  wife ;  nay,  he  would  have  been  glad 
to  prove  that  there  had  been  a  divorce  between  the  two.  He  had 
failed  to  do  so,  and  the  king's  intimation  to  the  princess  that  "  his 
majesty  was  convinced,  that  it  was  no  longer  necessary  for  him  to 
decline  receiving  the  princess  into  the  royal  presence," — while  it 
was  the  triumphant  justification  of  the  wife,  was  the  unqualified 
condemnation  of  the  husband,  beneath  whose  roof  the  slander  was 
first  uttered  by  Sir  John  Douglas  to  the  Duke  of  Sussex.  And  so 
ended  the  "  delicate  investigation." 

The  husband  of  Caroline  was  at  this  time  suffering  from  a  double 
anguish.  He  was  snubbed  by  his  political  friends,  and  he  was 
what  he  called  deeply  in  love  with  Lady  Hertford.  The  "  passion" 
for  this  lady  was  contracted  during  some  negotiations  with  her 
family,  entered  upon  for  the  purpose  of  placing  Miss  Seymour  (a 
niece  of  Lady  Hertford's)  under  the  care  of  Mrs.  Fitzherbert. 
When  this  passion  was  in  progress,  the  prince  aimed  at  bringing  it 
to  a  successful  issue  by  the  strangest  of  love-processes.  He  was 
accustomed,  if  not  actually  ill,  to  make  himself  so,  in  order  that  he 
might  appear  interesting,  and  have  a  claim  upon  the  compassion 
of  the  "  fair,"  who  might  otherwise  have  proved  obdurate.  With  this 
end  in  view,  he  would  submit  to  be  bled  several  times  in  the  same 
night,  and  by  several  operators,  when  in  fact  "  there  was  so  little 
necessity  for  it,  that  different  surgeons   were  introduced  for  thy 


256 


LIVES  OF  THK   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


I 


> 


purpose,  unknown  to  each  other,  lest  they  should  object  to  so  un- 
usual a  loss  of  blood."* 

If  he  was  ridiculous  in  this,  he  was  criminal  in  other  respects. 
The  pretty  child,  Miss  Seymour,  was  placec^ with  Mrs.  Fitzherbert, 
and  the  prince  became  greatly  attached  to  it.     The  guardians  of 
the  young  lady,  however,  very  naturally  thought  that  a  person  in 
the  position  which  Mrs.  Fitzherbert  occupied,  was  not  exactly  a 
fitting  guide  for  a  motherless  girl.     The  law  was  had  recourse  to 
in  order  to  obtain  the  removal  of  the  latter,  and  ultimately  the  mat- 
ter  was  brought  before  the  supreme  tribunal  of  the  peers.     It  is  a 
well-known  fact,  that  when  this  was  the  case  the  prince,  in  who^e 
heart  there  had  been  lit  up  a  Hame  of  genuine  affection,  warmer 
than  anything  he  had  ever  felt  for  his  own  daughter,  became  alarmed 
at  the  idea  of  losing  Miss  Seymour.     He  therefore  actually  stooped 
to  canvass  for  the  votes  of  peers  in  this,  a  purely  judicial  question, 
which  they  were  called  upon  to  decide  according  to  law  and  their 
consciences.     An  heir-apparent  to  a  throne,  and  so  enga-od,  pre- 
sented no  edifying  spectacle.     And  it  must  be  remembered  that  at 
the  time  he  was  thus  suborning  witnesses  (for  to  canvass  the  vote 
of  a  judicial  peer  was  subornation  of  those  whose   othce  it  was  to 
^vitness  the  due  administration  of  the  law)   he  had  set  his  small 
affections  upon  a  child,  and  was  living  in  oi)en  disregard  of  tlie 
seventh  commandment,  and  of  that  portion  of  the  tenth  which  re- 
ates  to  our  neighbor's  wife.     He  was  accusing,  through  suborned 
tes  imoii^',  his  own  wife  of  crimes  and  sentiments  of  a  similar  nature 
and  with  no  better  result  than  to  make  patent  his  own  infamy,  and 
to  establish  nothing  worse  than  thoughtless  indiscretion  on  the  part 
ot  the  consort  whom  he  had  abandone<l. 

The  princess,  who  was  still  suflering  from  debility  consequent 
upon  an  attack  of  measles,  was  naturally  elated  at  the  result  of  the 
protracted  inquiry,  and  respectfully  requested  to  b^.  pennitted  to 
throw  herself  at  his  majesty's  feet,  on  the  following  Monday  " 
Ihe  monarch  reminded  her  of  her  debility,  bade  her  take  patience 
and  promised  to  name  a  day  for  receiving  her,  when  he  was  assured 
of  her  being  fully  restored  to  health.  She  waited  patiently  for 
the  expression  of  the  king's  pleasure  upon  the  matter,  and  was 
preparing  once  more  for  the  enjoyment  of  again  being  received  by 

*  Lord  Holland. 


CAROLINE  OF  BRUNSWICK. 


257 


him,  when  all  her  hopes  were  suddenly  annihilated  by  an  intima- 
tion from  the  king  that, — the  Prince  of  Wales  having  stated  that 
he  was  not  satisfied  with  the  result  of  the  late  inquiry,  that  he  had 
placed  the  matter  in  the  hands  of  his  legal  advisers,  and  therefore 
requested  his  majesty  to  refrain  from  taking  further  steps  in  the 
business  for  the  present ;  the  king  consecpiently  "  considered  it  in- 
cumbent on  him  to  defer  naming  a  day  to  the  Princess  of  Wales, 
until  the  further  result  of  the  prince's  intention  shall  have  been 
made  known  to  him."  This  note  was  dated  "  AVindsor  Castle, 
February  10th,  1807.'*  From  that  day,  the  princess  looked  upon 
her  husband  as  assuming  the  ofRce  of  public  accuser  against  her. 
The  Blackheath  plot  had  ftiiled,  and  the  prince  was  now  appealinf*- 
against  the  decision  of  judges  to  whose  arbitrement  he  had  com- 
mitted the  responsible  duty  of  examination  and  sentence.  What 
he  required  was  a  judgment  unfavorable  to  his  wife ;  not  having 
succeeded,  he  sought  for  another  tribunal,  and  virtually  requested 
the  monarch  and  the  nation  to  hold  his  consort  guilty,  until  he 
might  have  the  luck  or  leisure  to  prove  her  to  be  so.  Had  she 
been  twice  the  im})rudent  woman  she  was,  such  conduct  as  this  on 
the  part  of  the  prince,  was  sure  to  make  a  popular  favorite  of  the 
princess. 

The  courage  of  the  latter  rose,  however,  as  persecution  waxed 
hotter ;  and  the  advisers  who  now  stood  by  her,  of  whom  Mr. 
Perceval  was  the  chief,  were  doubly  stimulated,  by  political  as 
well  as  personal  feelings.  The  princess  continued  to  address 
vigorous  appeals  to  the  king,  whose  intellect  was  beginning  to  be 
too  weak  to  comprehend,  and  his  eyesight  too  feeble  for  him  to 
be  able  to  read  them.  Their  cry  was  still  for  justice;  they 
claimed  for  her  a  public  reception  at  court,  and  apartments  in  some 
one  of  the  royal  palaces,  as  more  befitting  her  condition.  Inti- 
mation, too,  was  made  that  if  the  justice  demanded  were  not 
awarded  her,  a  full  detail  of  the  whole  affair  taken  from  the  view 
held  of  it  by  the  advisers  of  the  princess,  would  be  forthwith 
published.  It  is  said  that  the  menace  touched  even  Queen 
Charlotte  herself,  who  had  a  dread  of  "The  Book,"  as  it  was 
emphatically  called,  uj)on  which  Mr.  Perceval  was  known  to  be 
busily  engaged,  and  which  it  was  feared  he  was  about  to  publish. 


258 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS    OF  ENGLAND. 


i 


But  the  temporary  triumph  of  the  princess  was  at   hand.     In 
March,  1807,  the  Grenville  administration,  the  members  of  which 
were  known  to  be  favorites  with  the  queen,  and  enemies  of  the 
Pnncess  of  Wales,  retired   from  office,  and  within  a  month  the 
new  mmistrj  advised  the  king  that  the  complete  innocence  of  the 
prmcess   had   been    established,  and    that   it  would  be  well   for 
him    to    receive    her    at    court   in    a   manner   suitable    to   her 
rank   and   station.     The    ministers   present   at   the   meetin-   of 
council  when  this  advice  was  rendered,  were  Lord    Chancellor 
Eldon,  Lord  President    Camden,   Lord  Privy    Seal  Westmore- 
land,  the  Duke  of  Portland,  the  Eari  of  Chatham,  the  Eari  of 
Bathurst,  Viscount  Castlereagh,  Lord  Mulgrave,  Mr.  Canning,  and 
Lord  Ilawkesbury. 

In  May,  1807,  the  princess  was  accordingly  received  at  court 
at  a  drawing-room  held  by  Queen  Charlotte.      The    latter  illus-' 
trious  lady  exhibited  no  demeanor  by  which  it  could  be  construed 
that  she  was  happy  to   see   her  daughter-in-law.      The  utmost 
honor  paid  her  was  n  cold  and  rigid  courtesy.     The  queen  was 
again  "civil,  but  stiff."     The  nobility  and  gentiy  present  were 
more   expansive  in  the  warmth  of  their  welcome.     From  them 
tlie  prmcess  received    a  homage  of  apparently  cordial  respect. 
On  the  occasion  of  the  king's  birth-day  on  the  following  month, 
the  princess  again  repaired  to   court.     The  welcome  resembled 
that  which  she  had  received  at  her  last  visit,  but  there  was  an 
mcident  at  this  which  rendered  it  more  ititeresting,  at  all  events 
to  lookers^n.     It  was    at    this   drawning-room  the  Prince    and 
rrincess  of  Wales   encountered   each  other  for  the    last    time  • 
they  met  in  the  very  centre  of  the  apartment-they  bowed,  stood 
face  to  face  for  a  moment,  exchanged  a  few  words  which  no  one 
heard,  and  then  passed  on  ;  /..,  stately  as  an  iceberg,  and  as  cold 
she,  with  a  smile,  half  mirthful,  half  melancholy,  as  though  she 
rejoiced  that  she  was  there  in  spite  of  him,  and  yet  regretted  that 
her  visit  was  not  under  happier  auspices.     The  triumph,  however 
was  complete  as  for  as  it  went,  for  she  assuredly  was  present  that 
day  contrary  to    the    inclination  of  both  her  husband  and   her 
mother-in-law. 

Tliere  was  one  being  upon  earth  whom  this  princess  unreservedly 


CAROLINE   OF  BRUNSWICK. 


259 


loved,  and  of  whom  she  was  deprived  this  year.  We  allude  to 
her  father,  the  Duke  of  Brunswick.  He  had  been  but  an  indiffe- 
rent husband  and  father,  but  his  wife  did  not  complain,  and  his 
daughter  Caroline  feared  and  adored  him. 

The  father  of  the  Princess  of  Wales  at  the  age  of  seventy-one 
perished  on  the  fatal  field  of  Jena,  on  that  day  on  which  Prussia 
was  made  to  pay  the  penalty  of  mingled  treachery  and  imbecility. 
It  had  been  her  policy  throughout  the  troubles  of  the  time,  to 
save  herself  at  any  other  nation's  cost.  Such  a  policy  caused  her 
to  fall  into  the  ruin  which  overcame  her  at  Jena,  without  securing 
the  sympathy  even  of  those  nations  which  then  fought  against 
the  then  common  enemy.  In  this  battle  the  father  of  Caroline 
had  done  his  utmost  to  win  victory  for  Prussia,  but  in  vain,  and 
he  lost  his  own  life  in  the  attempt.  His  ability  and  courage  were 
all  cast  away.  He  had  with  him  in  the  camp  a  very  unseemly 
companion,  in  the  person  of  a  French  actress,  who  was  the  friend 
of  his  aide-de-camp,  Montjoy.  This  officer  was  close  to  him 
when  in  the  midst  of  his  staff,  and  at  a  distance  altogether  from 
where  the  battle  was  raging,  the  old  duke  was  shot  by  a  man  on 
foot,  "  who  presented  his  carabine  so  close,  that  the  ball  went  in 
under  the  left  eye  (the  duke  was  on  horseback)  and  came  out 
above  the  right,  quite  through  the  upper  part  of  the  nose."  It 
is  Lord  Malmesbury  who  suggests,  without  pretending  to  assert, 
that  "  Montjoy's  brother,  the  Grand  Veneur  to  Prince  Max,  the 
pretended  King  of  Bavaria,  and  who  was  with  Bonaparte,  knew 
exactly  where  the  Duke  of  Brunswick  was  to  be  found,  and  by  a 
connivance  with  Montjoy  produced  the  event." 

After  the  death  of  the  duke,  the  duchess  became  a  fugitive, 
for  the  Duchy  of  Brunswick  was  in  the  possession  of  the  French. 
And  accordingly  the  poor  Augusta,  at  whose  birth  in  St. 
James's  Palace  there  had  been  such  scant  ceremony  and  excess 
of  commotion,  came  now  in  her  old  age,  and  after  an  absence  of 
forty  years,  to  ask  a  home  at  the  hearth  of  the  brother  who  loved 
her,  as  she  used  to  say  equivocally,  as  warmly  as  he  could  love 
anything  ;  and  of  the  sister-in-law  who,  as  the  poor  duchess 
knew,  regarded  her  with  some  dislike,  and  who  was  met  with  the 


11 


260 


UYES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


I' 


same  amount  and   quality  of  affection   on  the  part  of  Augusta 
of  Brunswick. 

She  had,  however,  little  cause  to  complain  as  far  as  these  rela- 
tives were  conceraed.  They  received  her  cordiallv,  and  thou  Mi 
thej  gave  her  no  home  in  the  palace  in  which  she  was  born,  they 
helped  her  to  a  humbler  home,  elsewhere,  and  occasionally  lent 
it  cheerfulness,  by  paying  her  a  visit.  In  the  meantime,  the 
widowed  mother  sat  at  the  hearth  of  her  deserted  daughter,  and 
though  neither  of  them  had  sutficient  depth  of  sentiment  to 
bring  her  affliction  touchingly  home  to  the  other,  each  wiis  suf- 
ficiently stricken  by  severity  of  real  sorrow  to  render  her  elo- 
quent upon  her  own  misery,  if  not  attentive  to  the  twice-told  tale 
of  her  companion. 

Meanwhile,  there  was  pressure  of  another  sort  upon  the  prin- 
cess—a pressure  of  debt,  incurred  principally  by  the  uncer- 
tainty with  which  she  had  hitherto  been  supplied  with  pecuniary 
means,  and  also  the  want  of  a  controlling  treasurer  to  give  wamin"- 
when  expenditure  was  exceeding  probable  income.  Pruden't 
people  tind  such  an  othcer  in  themselves,  but  then  the  princess  was 
not  a  prudent  person,  and  among  the  things  she  least  understood 
was  the  management,  or  the  worth,  of  money.  She  was,  however, 
in  1800,  in  so  embarrassed  a  situation,  as  to  render  an  application 
to  the  king's  ministers  necessary,  when  it  was  found  that  her  debts 
exceeded  50,000/.  A  final  arrangement  was  then  come  to.  The 
prince  and  princess  signed  a  deed  of  sepanuion.  The  fonner 
consented  to  pay  the  debts  to  the  amount  of  49,000/.  on  condition 
of  being  held  non-responsible  for  any  future  liabilities  incurred  by 
his  consort.  Her  fixed  income  was  settled  at  22.tK>0/.  per  annum, 
under  the  control  of  a  treasurer,  who  was  to  discharge  the  re- 
maining liabihties  out  of  the  present  year's  income,  and  to  guard 
against  any  other  occurring  in  years  to  come,  if  he  could. 


CAKOLINE   OF  BRUNSWICK. 


261 


CHAPTKR  IV. 


MOTHERS    AND    DAUGHTERS. 

By  the  exertions  chiefly  of  Mr.  Perceval,  the  princess  had  been 
declared  innocent  of  the  charges  brought  against  her,  had  been 
received  at  court,  and  had  apartments  assigned  her  in  Kensington 
Palace,  which  she  occupied  conjointly  with  her  house  at  Black- 
heath.  The  clever  friend  of  the  princess  was  high  in  the  popular 
esteem  for  these  things,  and  the  public  awaited  at  his  hands  that 
banquet  of  scandal  which  he  had  promised  them  in  tbe  volume  to 
be  called  '•  The  Book."  When,  however,  they  found  the  work 
suppressed  by  its  author,  and  that  he  was  soon  after  made 
Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer,  the  public  professed  to  discern  here 
both  cause  and  effect.  They  looked  upon  the  elevation  of  Perceval 
as  the  reward  of  his  literary  self-denial.  The  honorable  gentle- 
man cared  little  for  what  the  public  thought,  nor  can  it  be  said 
that  either  as  friend  of  the  princess,  or  servant  of  the  prince,  he 
served  either  of  these  illustrious  persons,  or  even  the  public,  un- 
faithfully. 

In  1810,  when  imbecility  settled  definitively  upon  the  mind  of 
George  the  Third,  Perceval  proposed  a  restricted  regency,  but 
there  was  less  cause  for  restriction  now  than  there  had  been  before, 
and  the  restriction  was  only  maintained  during  one  year.  It  was 
a  period  of  great  distress  at  home;  and  abroad,  of  such  costly 
triumphs  as  made  victory  itself  a  glory  not  to  be  glad  over.  At 
this  juncture,  the  regent  acquired  some  degree  of  public  esteem, 
and  it  was  not  ill-earned,  by  declining  to  receive  an  increase  of 
revenue  when  the  people  were  taxed  to  an  extent  such  as  no 
nation  had  ever  before  experienced.  The  public,  however,  would 
fain  have  seen  the  Princess  of  Wales  raised  also  in  a  correspond- 


t 


262 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


1^ 


f 


ing  degree  with  the  regent,  by  some  distinctive  mark  to  show  that 
she  was  the  regent's  wife. 

It  was  rather  an  unreasonable  expectation,  and  Mr.  Perceval 

was  rather  unreasonably  censured  for  not  realizing  it.     The  deed 

of  separation  was,  if  not  a  cause,  at  least  an  apology,  or  authority, 

for  keeping  the  princess  in  the  condition  of  a  private  person.    She 

could  claim  no  higher  title  till  the  period  that  should  make  her 

husband  a  king.     But  this  was  no  reason  that  she  should   be 

irritated  by  obstructions  thrown  in  the  way  of  her  seein^^  Jier 

daughter.      These  obstructions  were  unworthy  of  their  author, 

and  failed  in  their  object.     They  were  excused  on  the  ground 

that  the  manners  of  the  mother  were  not  edifying  to  the  child,  but 

when  the  two  did  meet,  there  was  ample  evidence  of  an  affection 

existing  between  them,  stronger  than  might  have  been  expected 

at  the  hands  of  a  daughter  who  had  certainly  not  been  educated  in 

the  holy  faith  that  her  mother  was  worthy  of  all  the  filial  reverence 

that  child  could  pay  her. 

In  the  meantime  the  regent  had  his  difficulties.  He  who  be- 
trayed the  Whigs,  by  whose  advice  he  had  been  guided  during  the 
time  of  his  father's  sanity,  but  who  had  cast  them  off;  after  the 
death  of  Fox,  in  180G,  now  sought  to  strengthen  his  goveninient 
by  the  accession  of  some  of  his  old  friends.  The  Whigs,  however, 
would  not  act  with  Perceval,  and  after  the  assassination  of  that 
minister  in  1812,  they  lost,  by  their  arrogance,  the  opportunity  of 
forming  an  independent  administration.  The  boast  of  Grey  juid 
Grenville  that  they  would  ride  roughshod  through  Carlton  Palace, 
led  to  the  formation  of  the  Liverpool  Tory  Ministry,  which  begaii 
its  long  tenure  of  office  in  June,  1812. 

During  these  changes  and  negotiations,  the  Princess  of  Wales 
remained  at  Kensington  or  Blackheath,  wliile  her  mother  was  very 
indifferently  lodged  in  New  Street,  Spring  Gai'dcns,  in  half- 
furnished,  dirty,  and  comfortless  apartments.  Amid  filthy  lamps 
on  a  sideboard,  and  common  chairs  ranged  along  dingy  walls,  sat 
the  aged  duchess,  "  a  melancholy  spectacle  of  decayed  royalty." 
She  is  described  as  having  good-nature  impressed  upon  her 
features,  frankness  in  her  manners,  with  a  roughly  abrupt  style  of 
conversation,  that  rendered  her  remarkable.     She  loved  to  dwell 


CAROLINE  OF  BRUNSWICK. 


263 


upon  the  past,  though  it  was  full  of  melancholy  remembrances ; 
and  she  is  said  to  have  been  charitable  to  the  frailties  of  the 
period  of  her  own  early  days,  but  a  strict  censurer  of  those  of  the 
contemporaries  of  her  old  age. 

Up  to  the  period  of  the  king's  illness,  the  Princess  of  Wales  did 
not  want  for  friends  to  attend  her  dinners  and  evening  parties. 
When  the  only  advocate  she  had  among  the  royal  fimiily  virtually 
died,  and  the  Prince  of  AVales  became  really  king,  under  the  thle 
of  regent,  the  number  of  her  allies  seriously  diminished.  They 
had  to  choose,  as  in  the  days  of  the  first  and  second  George, 
between  two  courts.  They  declared  for  that  which  was  most 
likely  to  bring  them  most  profit  in  galas  and  gaieties.  Still  the 
diminished  court  at  Kensington  was  not  so  dull  as  that  made  up 
of  a  few  venerable  dowagers  at  the  Duchess  of  Brunswick's.  The 
princess  called  her  mother's  court  a  "  Dullification,"  and  yawned 
when  she  attended  it,  with  more  sincerity  than  good  manners. 
But  freedom  from  restraint  was  ever  a  delight  to  her,  and  she  has 
been  known  on  a  birth-day,  kept  at  Kensington,  to  receive  her 
congratulating  visitors,  wrapped  up  in  a  pink  dressing  gown.  It 
was  at  a  birth-day  reception  that  her  brother,  the  Duke  of  Bruns- 
wick, who  afterwards  fell  at  Quatre  Bras,  presented  her  with  a 
splendid  compliment  and  a  worthless  ring.  It  was  as  much  as 
duchyless  duke  could  afford.  On  the  other  hand,  on  the  same 
natal-day,  December,  1810,  Queen  Charlotte  showed  a  good-natui^- 
ed  memory  of  the  festival,  by  sending  the  princess  a  very  hand- 
some aigrette.  The  young  Princess  Charlotte  was  with  her  mother 
on  that  day,  and  she  observed,  rather  flippantly,  that  the  present 
was  "  really  pretty  well  considering  who  sent  it !  "*  The  princess 
was  at  this  time  a  fine  girl,  somewhat  given  to  romping,  but  with 
the  power  of  assuming  a  fine  air  of  dignity  when  the  occasion 
required. 

At  the  pleasant  dinners  at  Kensington,  when  the  servants  were 
out  of  the  room,  and  a  dumb  waiter  (all  the  better,  as  Sir  Sidney 
Smith  used  to  say,  for  being  a  deaf  waiter  also,)  was  at  the  elbow 
of  every  guest,  the  princess  would  seem  to  take  delight  in  going 

*  Diary  illustrative  of  the  TimcR  of  George  IV. 


264 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


1^ 


iJi 


over  the  history  of  the  past.  Wliat  little  there  was  good  in  her, 
she  once  remarked  to  Count  Munster,  was  owing  to  the  count's 
mother,  who  had  been  her  governess.  She  acknowledged  that  the 
natural  petulance  of  her  character  was  rather  active  at  the  period 
of  her  marriage.  ^'One  of  the  civil  things  his  highness  said  just 
at  first  was  to  find  fault  with  my  shoes ;  and  as  I  was  very  young 
and  lively  in  those  days,  I  told  him  to  make  me  a  better  pair,  and 
send  them  to  me.  I  brought  letters  from  all  the  princes  and  prin- 
cesses to  him,  from  all  the  petty  courts,  and  I  tossed  them  to  him 

and  said :  '  There ,  that's  to  prove  I'm  not  an  impostor.'  " 

She  married,  she  said,  entirely  to  please  her  father,  for  whom  she 
would  have  made  any  sacrifice.  She  regretted  that  the  union  was 
determined  on  before  the  parties  had  been  introduced  to  each 
other.  "  Had  I  come  over  here  as  a  princess,  with  my  father,  on 
a  visit,  as  Mr.  Pitt  once  wanted  my  father  to  liave  done,  things 
might  have  been  very  diflTerent ;  but  what  is  done  cannot  be  un- 
done."* Her  own  condition  at  home,  however,  was,  at  the  time, 
but  a  melancholy  one.  She  had  there  but  a  sorry  life,  between 
her  father's  mistress  and  her  own  mother.  Civility  to  the  one  al- 
ways procured  her  a  scolding  from  the  other.  No  wonder  that 
she  was,  as  she  asserted,  "  tired  of  it," 

Her  spirit,  depressed  as  it  often  was  during  her  presence  at 
Kensington,  except  on  the  few  occasions  when  her  daughter  was 
t)ermitted  to  see  her,  sometimes  experienced  the  very  liveliest  of 
outbreaks.     She  thought  nothing,  for  instance,  of  slipping  throu-h 
the  gardens,  with  a  single  lady  in  waiting,  both  of  them  attirc^d, 
perhaps,   m   evening   costume,    and,   crossing   Bayswater,   stroll 
through  the  fields,  and  dong  by  the  Paddington  Canal,  at  the 
great  risk  of  being  insulted,  or  followed  by  a  mob,  if  recognized. 
She  thought  as  little  of  entering  houses  that  were  to  let,  and  in- 
quinng  about  the  terms.     These  are  but  small,  yet  they  are  signi- 
ficant traits.     One  of  more  importance  is  her  study  and  perception 
of  character.     At  Kensington  she  kept  a  book,  in  which  she  wrote 
down    in  indifferent  English,   but  with  great  boldness  and  spirit, 
the  characters  of  many  of  the  leading  persons  in  England.     It  is 

♦  Diary  illustrative  of  the  Times  of  George  IV. 


CAROLINE   OF  BRl^NSWICK. 


265 


doubtful  whether  this  book  was  destroyed,  as  the  writer,  when 
dying,  ordered  it  to  be.  If  it  could  be  recovered,  with  the  diary 
of  Queen  Charlotte,  and  that  kept  by  poor  Sophia  Dorothea, 
something  from  them  might  be  culled  of  more  interest  than  any 
thing  that  is  yet  to  be  found  in  the  histories  of  these  three  queens. 
I  recommend  the  search  to  Mrs.  Everett  Green,  skilled  dike  in 
discovering  and  in  decyphering  documents. 

The  indiscretion  of  the  princess  was  very  strongly  marked,  by 
her  selecting  Sundays  as  the  days  for  her  greatest  dinner  parties, 
and  her  evening  concerts.  Queen  Chariotte,  before  her,  used  to 
hold  drawing-rooms  on  Sundays,  without  any  idea  of  wrong. 
Since  her  time,  too,  the  Countess  of  St.  Antonio,  and,  indeed, 
other  English  ladies,  were  accustomed  to  hold  highest  festival  on 
this  holiest  day.  In  the  case  of  the  princess,  there  is  no  doubt 
that  much  prejudice  was  excited  against  her,  in  consequence  of 
such  proceedings.  And  yet  she  was  not  insensible  to  public  opi- 
nion ;  and  she  not  only  wished  to  know  what  was  said  of  her,  but 
wished  to  hear  it  from  the  lips  of  the  people. 

**  One  day,"  says  the  author  of  the  Diary  of  the  Court  and 
Times  of  George  IV.,  « the  princess  set  out  to  walk,  accompanied 
by  myself  and  one  of  her  ladies,  round  Kensington  Gardens.     At 
last,  being  wearied,  her  royal  highness  sat  down  on  a  bench  occu- 
pied by  two  old  persons,  and  she  conversed  with  them,  to  my  in- 
finite  amusement,  they  being  perfectly  ignorant  who   she  was. 
She  asked  them  all  manner  of  questions  about  herself,  to  which 
they  replied  favorably.     Her  lady,  I  observed,  was  considerably 
alarmed,  and  was  obliged  to  draw  her  veil  over  her  face,  to  pre- 
vent her  betraying  herself,  and  every  moment  I  was  myself  afraid 
that  something  not  so  favorable  might  be  expressed  by  these  good 
people.     Fortunately,  this  was  not  the  case,  and  her  royal  high- 
ness walked  away  undiscovered,  having  informed  them  that  if  they 
would  be  at  such  a  door,  at  such  an  hour,  at  the  palace,  on  any 
day,  they  would  meet  with  the  Princess  of  Wales,  to  see  whom 
they  expressed  the  strongest  desire."     These  off-hand  adventures 
she  delighted  in,  as  she  did  in  off-hand  expressions.     One  day, 
when  the  princess  was  ready  to  set  out  on  a  visit  to  the  British 
Museum,  and  three  of  her  gentlemen,  Keppel  Craven,  Gell,  and 
Vol.  II.— 12 


266 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


Mercer,  stood  awaiting  her  orders,  "  Now,"  said  she,  as  she  stepped 
into  her  carriage,  "toss  up  a  guinea  to  know  which  shall  be  the 
happy  two  to  come  with  me ! "  the  trio  had  not  a  guinea  amongst 
them,  and  the  princess  named  Mercer  and  Kcppel  Craven. 

Except  in  reading  aloud,  the  princess  does  not  appear  to  have 
had  any  intellectual  pursuits  at  Kensington.  Her  health  too  was 
at  times  indifferent,  but  her  constitution  was  not  undermined, 
mentally  and  physically,  as  the  regent's  was  at  this  period ;  and 
she  had  one  joy,  which,  however,  she  seemed  to  appreciate  less 
than  at  its  true  worth,  in  the  occasional  society  of  the  Princess 
Charlotte.  The  daughter  is  described  as  having  been  at  this  time 
"  extremely  spread  for  her  age ;  her  bosom  full,  but  finely  shaped ; 
her  shoulders  large,  and  her  whole  person  voluptuous."  There 
was  thus  early  a  prospect  of  that  obese  development  which  so  soon 
despoiled  the  attractions  of  her  mother,  and  which  very  early 
marred  her  own  gi-ace  and  beauty. 

"  Her  skin  is  white,"  says  Lady  Charlotte  Campbell,  "  but  not 
a  transparent  white ;  there  is  little  or  no  shade  in  her  face,  but  her 
features  are  very  fine.  Their  expression,  like  that  of  her  general 
demeanor,  is  noble.  Her  feet  are  rather  small,  and  her  hands  and 
arms  are  finely  moulded.  She  has  a  hesitation  in  her  speech, 
amounting  almost  to  a  stammer — an  additional  proof,  if  any  were 
wanting,  of  her  being  her  father's  own  child ;  but  in  everything 
she  is  his  own  image.  Her  voice  is  flexible,  and  her  tones  dulcet, 
except  when  she  laughs ;  then  it  becomes  too  loud,  but  is  never 
unmusical."  Her  royal  highness  exhibited  to  this  observer,  traits 
of  disposition  which  seemed  to  certify  to  an  existence  in  her  char- 
acter of  self-will,  some  caprice,  and  also  obstinacy ;  but  in  a  person 
so  kind-hearted,  clever,  and  enthusiastic  as  this  young  princess, 
these  symptoms  were  susceptible  of  being  converted  into  positive 
virtues ;  for  a  sensible,  kindly-natured,  and  ardent  character  can 
sooner  be  taught  to  bend  its  own  will  to  the  liking  of  others — 
caprice  becomes  fixedness  of  principle,  and  obstinacy  gives  way  to 
resolution,  which  is  only  determinedly  maintained  on  conviction 
of  its  being  rightly  grounded.  The  young  heiress  to  the  throne 
was  more  gentle  in  her  demeanor  to  her  mother  than  the  latter 
was  to  her  parent,  the  old  Duchess  of  Brunswick.     To  her  the 


CAROLINE  OF  BRUNSWICK. 


267 


Princess  of  Wales  was  harder  in  her  demeanor  than  she  was  to 
others.     The  duchess  was  certainly  a  mother  who  had  never  won 
her  daughter's  respect,  and  who  did  not  now  know  how  to  properly 
estimate  her  daughter's  sorrows.     The  duchess  was  not  only  visited 
by  Queen  Charlotte,  but  she  was  invited  to  dinner  by  the  regent ; 
and  of  this  last  honor  she  triumphantly  boasted  in  the  presence  of 
that  daughter  who  wtis  ejected  from  the  regent's  house.     But  the 
poor  "  Lady  Augusta"  was  as  awkward  in  her  remarks  in  her  old 
days  as  she  had  been  in  the  days  of  her  youth.     When  the  dis- 
mayed circle,  amid  which  the  invitation  was  boasted  of,  observed 
a  silence,  which  a  sensible  old  lady  would  have  taken  for  as  severe 
a  comment  as  could  be  passed,  she  broke  the  silence  by  abruptly 
asking  the  daughter,  "  Do  you  think  I  shall  be  carried  up-stairs  on 
my  cushion  ?"     To  which  the  princess  coolly  replied :  "  There  is 
no  up-stairs,  I  believe;  the  apartments   are   fdl   on  one  floor." 
"Oh,  charming!  that  is  delightful!"  rejoined  the  duchess;  and 
with  a  few  more  queries,  to  which  the  princess  always  replied  with 
the  greatest  self-possession  and  sang-froid,  as  though  she  were  not 
in  the  least  hurt,  this  strange  royal  farce  ended. 

The  brother  of  the  Princess  of  Wales,  if  he  had  not  an  un- 
bounded regard  for  his  sister,  at  least  knew  what  was  due  to  her 
and  propriety,  better  than  his  mother.  By  his  directions  the  prin- 
cess represented  to  the  duchess,  that  if  she  accepted  the  prince's 
invitation  she  would  tacitly  acknowledge  that  he  was  justified  in 
his  treatment  of  his  wife.  The  old  lady,  as  obstinate  as  her  own 
grandfather,  George  H.,  was  not  to  be  moved.  She  saw  the  mat- 
ter,  she  said,  in  quite  another  light.  She  loved  her  daughter, 
would  do  anything  in  the  world  /or  her,  but  certainly  she  would 
not  give  up  going  to  Cai-lton  House.  And  in  this  determination 
she  remained  fixed,  till,  mediliiting  upon  the  matter,  and  conceiv- 
ing that  the  invitation  may  have  been  less  out  of  compliment  to 
herself  than  intended  to  draw  her  into  a  tacit  condemnation  of  her 
daughter,  she  suddenly  declined  to  go;  and  with  mingled  womanly 
and  especially  matronly  feeling,  she  invited  the  princess  to  dine 
with  her,  instead. 

The  Princess  of  Wales  was,  undoubtedly,  fast  losing  the  small 
remnant  of  popularity  among  the  higher  classes  which  had  hitherto 


268 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


I 


sustained  her.  As  her  more  noble  friends  silently  cast  her  ofl^  she 
filled  the  void  left  by  them,  with  persons  of  inferior  birth,  and 
sometimes  of  indifferent  reputation.  Her  own  immediate  attend- 
ants laughed  at  her,  her  ways,  her  pronunciation,  and  her  opinions. 
She  was  i.iioed  a  puzzle  to  them.  Sometimes  they  found  in  her 
a  tone  of  exalted  sentiment ;  at  others  she  was  coarse  or  frivolous : 
the  **  tissue  of  her  character"  was  made  up  of  the  most  variegated 
web  that  ever  went  to  the  dressing  of  a  woman.  Perhaps  one  of 
the  most  foolish,  if  not  the  most  unnecessary,  of  her  acts,  was  an 
attempt  which  she  made  to  sell  a  portion  of  her  jewels.  It  was 
doubtless  intended,  by  way  of  proof,  that  an  application  to  parlia- 
ment for  an  increased  allowance  was  a  necessity  on  her  part. 

She  was,  however,  most  intent  on  bringing  forward  the  story  of 
her  wrongs  before  the  public;  and  she  was  doubtless  encouraged 
in  this  by  a  party,  some  members  of  which,  without  any  of  the 
sympathy  which  they  affected  to  profess,  looked  upon  her  as  an 
admirable  tool  wherewith  to  shape  their  particular  and  political 
ends.  In  the  meantime  the  dinner-parties  at  Kensington  were  of 
a  joyous  and  unrestrained  character ;  and  our  Ariadne  often  seemed 
to  be  as  perfectly  consoled  for  the  loss  of  her  Theseus,  as  the  lady 
of  old  was  who,  when  condemned  to  a  separate  maintenance,  dined 
every  day  with  the  son  of  Semele. 

Not  that  she  had  not  sometimes  better  company;  she  had  poets 
and  philosophers  at  her  table,  when  the  royal  fugitives  from  France 
invented  maladies,  as  an  excuse  for  not  visiting  her;  and  she 
gained  by  the  exchange ;  but,  strange  to  say,  with  a  very  liberal 
income,  irregularly  paid  perhaps,  she  wiis  as  poor  as  the  poets,  and 
had  not  the  consolation  of  philo^phy.  The  house  of  Drummond 
&  Co.,  declined  to  advance  her  the  poor  sum  of  500/.,  although 
she  is  said  to  have  offered  to  pay  cent,  per  cent,  for  the  loa^n. 
Probably  the  stupendous  liberality  promised  by  the  would-be  bor- 
rower, rendered  the  bankers  suspicious. 

As  she  failed  to  acquire  all  the  public  sympathy,  which  she 
thought  herself  entitled  to  by  her  condition,  she  became  at  once 
more  melancholy  and  more  recklessly  minhful.  The  dinner  par- 
ties, beginnmg  late,  continued  to  sit  till  dawn.  On  one  of  these 
heavily  entertainmg  occasions,  one  of  the   guest;*,  weary  of  his 


CAROLINE   OF  BRUNSTTICK. 


269 


amusement,  ventured  to  hint  that  morning  was  at  hand.  "  Oh ! " 
exclaimed  the  princess,  "  God,  he  knows  when  we  may  meet  again." 
And  then,  using  her  favorite  expression,  she  added,  ^'to  tell  you 
God's  truth,  when  I  am  happy  and  comfortable,  I  would  sit  on  for 
ever."  The  describer  of  this  scene  says :  "  There  was  heaviness 
in  the  mirth,  and  every  one  seemed  to  feel  it ;  so  they  sat  on.  At 
Last  one  rose  from  the  table  ;  many  of  the  guests  went  away ;  some 
few  hngered  in  the  drawing-room,  amongst  whom  I  was  one.  I 
was  left  the  last  of  all.  Scarcely  had  Sir  H.  Englefield,  Sir  AVil- 
liam  Gell,  and  Mr.  Craven  reached  the  drawing-room,  when  a 
long  and  protracted  roll  of  thunder  echoed  all  around,  and  shook 
the  palace  to  the  very  foundations ; — a  bright  light  shone  into  the 
room,  brighter  thtm  the  beams  of  the  sun ;  a  violent  hissing  noise 
followed,  and  some  ball  of  electric  fluid,  very  like  that  which  is 
represented  on  the  stage,  seemed  to  fall  close  to  the  window  where 
we  were  standing.  Scarcely  had  we  recovered  the  shock,  when 
all  the  gentlemen,  who  had  gone  out,  returned,  and  Sir  II.  P^n^le- 
field  informed  us  that  the  sentinel  at  the  door  was  knocked  down, 
a  great  portion  of  the  gravel  walk  torn  up,  and  every  servant  and 
soldier  were  terrified.  "  Oh ! "  said  the  princess  undismayed,  but 
solemnly,  "  this  forbodes  my  downfall,"  and  she  shook  her  head ; 
then  rallying,  she  desired  Sir  H.  Englefield  to  take  especial  notice 
of  this  meteoric  phenomena,  and  give  an  account  of  it  in  the  Phil- 
osophical Transactions  ; — which  he  did."  * 

So  passed  away  her  life  up  to  the  period  when  the  restrictions 
were  taken  off  the  regency,  and  the  Prince  of  Wales  became  vir- 
tually king.  The  friends  of  the  princess,  in  the  House  of  Com- 
mons, served  her  cause  with  some  dexterity,  and  seldom  made  a 
statement  in  reference  to  her,  without  temporarily  reviving  some 
of  the  half-extinct  sjTnpathy  of  the  general  public.  Others  of  her 
"  faction,"  as  her  friends  were  called,  kept  her  in  a  state  of  irrita- 
bility and  excitement,  by  speaking  of  publishing  her  memoirs  in 
full  detaiL  Some  persons,  with  less  pretence  to  the  name  of 
friends,  injured  her  extremely,  by  statements  affectedly  put  for- 
ward in  her  behalf.    Her  agitated  condition  of  life  was  still  further 

*  Diary  illustrative  of  the  Times  of  George  IV. 


{ 


270  LIVES  OF  THE    QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 

aggravated  by  the  obstacles  put  in  her  way,  so  as  to  prevent  her 
seeing  her  daughter  as  often  as  she  desired.     She  was  even  bold 
enough,  and  justifiably  bold  enough,  under  the  circumstances,  to 
go  down  to  Windsor  to  see  the  princess.     This  audacious  step,  as 
It  was  considered,  was  met  by  a  message  from  the  regent,  through 
i^rd  Liverpool,  requesting  her  never  to  repeat  so  uncalled-for  an 
expedition.     She  promised  obedience,  on  condition  that  she  should 
be  permitted  to  see  the  princess  once  a-week ;  but  otherwise  she 
threatened  a  repetition  of  the  visit.     Such  menaces  gratified  those 
i^o  provoked  them.     The  more  they  could  goad  the  Princess  of 
Wales  into  demonstrations  of  violent  and  vulgar  indignation,  the 
more,  as  they  well  knew,  would  she  lose  of  the  public  esteem. 
Her  nature  was  too  prone  thus  to  lose  sight  of  dignity  and  self- 
possession,  on  being  provoked.     The  grandeur  of  endurance  was  a 
flight  beyond  her  ken.     She  mourned  the  loss  of  a  wise  friend  in 
1  erceval,  who  was  partly  lost  to  her,  however,  before  his  death,  as 

Zl    H,      nT""^  T^"^''"'-    ^^''''  '''''  '""^'''^  *^'  ^^^  t^"'^  time, 
probably  ill-founded,  that  she  was  to  be  removed  to  Hampton 

Court,  the  apartments  at  Kensington  Palace  being  required  for  the 

Princess  Charlotte.     This,  and  the  abandonment  of  her  by  some 

of  her  old  partisans  among  the  nobihty,  rendered  her  naturally 

querulous.     "No  no  I"  she  said,  "there  is  no  more  society  for  me 

m  England ;  for  do  you  think,  if  Lady  Ilarmwby  and  the  Duchess 

that  I  wfn  "'• '"  :'  '"^  ''''  ^^^^^  '^  ^^-  -""^  ^«  -^  no. 
that  I  would  mvite  them  to  my  intimacy?     Never!     They  left 

me,  ..thout  a  reason,  as  time-servers,  ami  I  never  can  wil  for 
hem  back  agam/-  She  felt  that  she  could  hold  no  court  in  pr  " 
ence  of  that  of  the  regent,  and  that  as  long  as  he  lived  she  must 
be  patient,  and  " nothing."  Could  she  onl/have  beenle  L^r 
she  perhaps  would  not  have  come  to  be  of  such  small  esteem  ^' 
that  which  she  uUimately  experienced. 

The  princess,  however,  still  had  some  good  taste.     She  natron 
ized  poets,  in  other  fashion  than  that  followed  by  Sophi^Doro  hea, 
who  gave  them  rings ;  by  Caroline,  who  made  poor  pa  In  T  t  c^ 
poetic  ploughmen,  like  Duck ;  or  by  Charlotte,  who'  gave  to  the 

*  Diary  illustrative  of  the  Times  of  George  IV. 


CAROLINE  OF  BRUNSWICK. 


271 


sons  of  the  Muses  little  beyond  empty  praises  and  smiles,  that 
would  not  nourish.  The  Princess  of  Wales  was  a  great  admirer 
of  Campbell,  and  in  1812  he  was  presented  to  her  by  his  own 
"  chieftain's  fair  daughter,"  Lady  Charlotte  Campbell— a  lady  who 
has  etched  the  doings  of  her  royal  mistress,  in  aqua  fortis.  The 
princess  showed  her  esteem  for  the  Scottish  poet,  by  dancing  reels 
with  him  in  her  drawing-room  at  Blackheath.  Campbell  has  left 
his  opinion  of  her,  at  this  time,  in  a  letter  addressed  to  a  friend. 
"  To  say  what  I  think  of  her,  without  being  bribed  by  the  smiles 
of  royalty— she  is  certainly  what  you  would  call  in  Scotch  a  fine 
body ;  not  fne,  in  the  English  sense  of  the  word,  but  she  is  good- 
humored,  appears  to  be  very  kind-hearted,  is  very  acute,  naive, 

and  entertaining ;  the  accent  makes  her,  perhaps,  comic I 

heard  that  she  was  coarse  and  indelicate.  I  have  spent  many 
hours  with  her  and  Lady  Chariotte  alone ;  and  I  can  safely  say 
she  showed  us  no  symptoms  of  that  vulgarity  attributed  to  her." 
An  instance  of  the  mistakes,  rather  than  the  peculiarity  of  pronun- 
ciation, which  distinguished  her,  is  given  by  Dr.  Wm.  Beattie. 
He  relates  that,  one  day,  the  princess  was  showing  her  pleasantly- 
arranged  house  to  a  noble  peer  of  great  celebrity.  They  were 
both  in  the  gallery,  where  the  princess  had  recently  hung  some 
new  pictures,  and  to  one  of  these  she  directed  the  attention  of  her 
guest.  It  was  his  own  portrait ;  and  he  acknowledged  the  honor 
by  a  very  profound  bow.  The  princess,  to  enhance  the  value  of 
the  compliment,  said,  "  You  see,  my  lord,  that  I  do  consider  you 
one  of  my  great  household  dogs."  She  meant  "  gods,"  poor  lady ; 
but  she  did  terribly  abuse  the  divinities ;  and  her  daughter  was 
ever  to  her,  not  her  dear  "  angel,"  but  her  very  dear  "  angle." 
These  faults  of  orthography,  and  errors  in  pronunciation,  bring 
less  blame  upon  her  than  upon  her  mother.  That  the  child  of  an 
Englishwoman  born  should  have  been  so  ignorant,  was  the  fault 
of  the  Englishwoman,  and  not  of  her  child.  But  the  "  Lady  Au- 
gusta" never  seems  to  have  recovered  the  flurry  with  which  she 
came  into  the  world,  after  the  hurried  drive  of  her  mother  from 
Hampton  Court  to  St.  James's.  The  sister-in-law  of  Queen  Char- 
lotte was  incapable  of  instructing  her  children  as  that  queen  did, 
but  she  might  have  taught  her  daughter  English  by  conversin<y 


272 


t 


« 


LIVES   OF  THE  QUEENS  OF   ENGLAND. 


With  her  in  that  language.     The  latter  knew,  however,  less  of  it 
than  she  did  of  French  and  German ;  and  when  she  conversed  in 
these,  it  was  not  upon  subjects  that  were  edifying  to  the  future 
Queen  of  England,  or  creditable  to  herself.     Queen  Cliarlotte  was 
far  more  particular  on  the  question  of  correct  delivery.     In  the 
case  of  her  husband,  Quin  had  "taught  the  boy  to  speak;"  and  it 
was  the  exact  propriety  of  the  utterance  of  Mrs.  Siddons  that  led 
to  her  appointment  as  reading  preceptress  of  Queen  Charlotte's 
daughters.     Of  the  husband  of  the  Princess  Caroline,  it  will,  per- 
haps, be  remembered  that,  after  an  evening  spent  with  him  at 
Carlton  House  by  John  Kemble,  the  prince  expressed  his  fears 
lest  he  may  have  shocked  the  ears  of  so  fine  a  master  of  elocution 
by  some  offence  in  pronunciation.     The  only  word  which  Kemble 
could  correct  was  oblige,  which  the  prince   pronounced   in   the 
French  way,  as  if  it  were  written  obleege.     The  prince  adopted  the 
English  ?;  and  henceforth  the  word,  which  lexicographers  allowed 
to  be  pronounced  indifferently,  with  the  English  or  French  pro- 
nunciation, as  if  the  /  had  but  one  sound,  used  that  adopted  by  the 
prince.     He  fixed  the  style,  as  the  little  Louis  XIV.  did  the  gen- 
der of  carosse.    It  was  properly  feminine,  but  as  the  boy-king  mis- 
takenly made  it  masculine  one  day,  all  loyal  subjects  with  carriages 
thenceforth  called  for  7)wn  and  not  for  ma  carosse.     Such  is  The 
irresistible  power  of  princes. 


CHAPTER  V. 


HAR3II    TRIALS    AND    PETTY   TRIUMrnS. 

From  the  comparative  retirement  in  which  the  princess  had 
lived  for  a  few  years,  she  was  now,  in  1813,  again  to  issue  and 
appear  before  the  public  more  like  an  athlete  on  the  arena  than 
a  su|)pliant  with  wrongs  to  be  redressed. 

Her  retirement  had  given,  however,  much  subject  for  comment 
on  the  part  of  the  public ;  for  censure  on  the  part  of  her  enemies. 
The  latter  still  pointed  to  her  habits  of  life   as  forming  apology 


\     m-^. 


CAROLINE   OF  BRUNSWICK. 


273 


enough  for  the  restrictions  set  upon  her  intercourse  with  her 
daughter.  The  fashion  of  opening  aU  her  apartments  to  her  visi- 
tors at  Kensington  was  considered  indecorous  ;  and  the  popular 
tongue  dealt  unmeasuredly  with  her  cottage  at  Bayswater,  at  which 
she  was  said  to  have  presided  at  scenes  of  at  least  consummate 
folly ;  and  folly,  in  such  a  woman,  was  but  next  to  serious  guilt, 
and  almost  as  sure  to  accomplish  her  utter  ruin. 

It  is  difficult  to  say,  positively,  in  what  light  the  Princess  Char- 
lotte looked  upon  the  restrictions  which  kept  her  mother  and 
herself  apart.  Report  accredited  her  with  being  a  thorn  in  the 
side  of  Queen  Chariotte,  and  a  continual  trouble  to  the  regent. 
She  is  said  to  have  paid  to  neither  an  over-heaped  measure 
of  respect,  and  she  seriously  offended  both  by  marrin^-  the 
splendor  of  her  first  "drawing-room,"  at  which  she  was  to 
have  been  presented  by  the  Duchess  of  York,  and  which  was 
postponed,  because  she  insisted  upon  being  presented  by  her 
mother. 

Early  in  January,  a  sealed  letter  was  addressed  to  the  Prince 
Regent  by  the  Princess  of  Wales,  and  forwarded  by  Lady  Char- 
lotte Campbell,  through  Lord  Liverpool  and  Lord  Eldon.     It  was 
immediately  returned  unopened.     The  letter  was  sent  back   as 
before.     It  was  again  returned,  with  an  intimation  that  the  prince 
would  not  depart  from  his  determination  not  to  enter  into  any 
correspondence.  Under  legal  advice,  it  was  once  more  transmitted, 
with  a  demand  that  the  ministers  should  submit  it  to  the  prince! 
Finally,  intimation  was  conveyed  to  the  princess  that  the  regent 
had  become  acquainted  with  the  contents  of  the  letter,  but  had 
no  reply  to  make  to  it.     Upon  this,  the  letter  was  published   in  a 
moniing  paper.     Though  addressed  to  the  regent,  it  was  evidently 
intended  for  the  public  solely ;  and  its  appearance  in  the  papers 
excited   a  wrath   in   the   prince   which  brought   upon  the  prin- 
cess much   of  her  subsequent  persecution,  and  exposed   her  to 
considerable  present  animadversion,  even  at  the  hands  of  many 
of  her  friends. 

The  letter  was  a  long  one,  but  it  may  be  substantially  described 
as  containing  a  protest  of  the  supposed  writer's  innocence;  a 
remonstrance   against   the  restrictions  now  more  stringent  than 

12* 


■     I 


i  i 


274 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


CAROLINE   OF  BRUNSWICK. 


275 


ever,  which  kept  her  apart  from  her  daughter  ;  an  assertion  that 
such  restrictions  were  injurious  to  the  latter,  and  a  fatal  blow 
against  the  honor  of  the  mother  ;  and  finally  a  stinging  criticism 
upon  the  secluded  system  of  education  by  which  her  daughter  was 
not  educated,  and  which  was  not  calculated  to  develope  the  cha- 
racter of  the  future  Queen  of  Great  Britain. 

A  bomb  in  the  palace  could  not  have  created  more  excitement 
than  was  caused  by  the  appearance  of  this  letter  in  the  papers. 
It  was  met  by  a  refusal  to  allow  any  meeting  at  all,  for  the  pre- 
sent, between  the  Princess  Charlotte  and  her  mother,  and  by  an 
assembling  of  the  Privy  Council,  the  members  of  which  speedily 
showed  why  they  had  been  called  together,  by  making  a  report  to 
the  regent,  in  which  it  was  stated,  that  the  lords  of  the  council, 
having  read  the  letter  of  the  princess,  and  having  examined  the 
documents  connected  with  the  investigation  into  the  conduct  of  the 
princess  in  1806,  were  decidedly  of  opinion  that  any  intercourse 
between  the  mother  and  daughter  should  continue  to  be  subject  to 
regulations  and  restraint.  This  report,  which  was  tantamount 
to  a  mortal  stab  to  the  reputation  of  the  Princess  of  Wales,  and 
not  altogether  unprovoked  by  her,  was  signed  by  the  two  archbi- 
shops and  all  the  ministers.  The  stab  was  dealt  back  as  fiercely 
as  it  could  be,  by  an  appeal  to  the  people  through  parliament. 
To  this  body,  the  princess,  in  March,  addressed  a  letter,  asserting 
her  innocence,  denouncing  the  system  which  pronounced  her 
guilty  without  letting  her  know  on  what  evidence  the  verdict  was 
founded,  and  without  allowing^her  to  produce  testimony  to  rebut 
it ;  and  finally,  requiring  that  parliament  would  authorize  a  full 
and  strict  investigation,  from  which  she  felt  that  her  honor  would 
issue  pre-eminently  triumphant.  This  request  brought  on  an  ani- 
mated debate,  upon  a  motion  for  the  production  of  i)apers  con- 
nected with  the  inquiry  of  1806,  and  the  evidence  adduced  thereon. 
The  motion  was  lost  ;  but  ministers  were  compelled  to  acknow- 
ledge that  the  princess  stood  fully  acquitted  of  the  charges  then 
and  there  brought  against  her.  The  assertion  made  by  Lord 
Castlereagh,  that  government  had  not  proceeded  against  the 
degraded  and  infamous  Sir  John  and  Lady  Douglas,  because  they 
were  reluctant  to  trouble  the  world  with  the  indelicate  matters 


that  must  be  raked  up  again,  excited  shouts  of  derision  Mr 
Whitbread  stoutly  asserted,  that  never  had  woman  been  so  falsely 
accused,  or  so  fully  triumphant  ;  and  Mr.  Wortley,  despite  all  his 
respect  for  the  house  of  Brunswick,  could  not  help  lamenting  that 
the  royal  family  was  the  only  one  in  the  kingdom  that  seemed 
careless  about  iis  own  welfare  and  respectability. 

The  subject  was  frequently  brought  before  parliament,  but  with 
no  other  eflTect  than  to  show  that  there  was  much  exaggerated 
bitterness  of  feeling  on  both  sides,  and  that  the  best  friends^'of  the 
prmcess  were  those  who  were  of  no  party.     Pariiament  was,  at 
last,  but  too  happy  to  let  the  matter  drop.     Meanwhile,  the  publi- 
cation of  the  "  Spirit  of  The  Book  "  did  the  princess  no   good, 
and  was,  perhaps,  not  intended  to  have  that  result.     The  daughter 
was  now  established  at  Warwick  House,  and  the   Duchess   of 
Leeds  had  succeeded,  as  governess,  to  Lady  De  Clifford,  much  to 
the  dissatisfaction  of  the  Princess  Charlotte  herself,  who  asserted 
that  she  was  old  enough  to  live  without  such  superintendence. 
She  could  not  be  frightened  into  a  conviction  of  the  contrary  by 
rude  remarks  from  Lord  Eldon,  who  also  sought  to  terrify  the 
Princess  of  Wales  into  absolute  silence,  on  the  ground  that  such  a 
course  would  more  entirely  conduce  to  her  own  safety  ;    to  which 
that  spirited  lady  replied,  that  she  was  under  the  safeguard  of  the 
British  constitution,  and  had  no  fears  for  her  own  safety,  what- 
ever. 

That  she  saw  her  daughter,  "  in  spite  of  them,"  was  to  her  a 
matter  of  legitimate  triumph.  She  had  been  forbidden  to  call 
at  Warwick  House,  but  she  could  not  fail  to  encounter  the 
Princess  Charlotte  on  the  public  highways.  This  meeting  first 
occurred  early  in  the  spring;  the  mother  espied  the  daughter's 
carriage  at  a  distance,  and  ordered  her  own  to  be  driven  rapidly 
after  it.  She  was  then  on  Constitution  Hill— the  princess  was 
near  Hyde  Park— and  the  pursuer  came  up  with  the  pursued 
near  the  Serpentine.  Each  leaned  forward  from  her  own  car- 
riage to  kiss  the  other,  and,  for  several  minutes,  they  remained 
in  deep,  and,  apparently,  affectionate  conversation  ;— a  crowd 
the    while    surrounding    them    with    ever-ready   sympathy,    as 


276 


LIVES  OF  THE    QUEENS  OF  ENGLAXD. 


is   the    case   with    crowds   when    its    feelings    are    intelligibly 

appealed  to. 

It  'was  said,  however,  that  in  the  rarely-permitted  meetings 
which  subsequently  took  place  between  the  mother  and  daughter, 
the  former  occasionally  complained  of  the  coldness  of  manner 
of  the  latter.  The  Princess  of  Wa1»^«  was,  in  fact,  not  satisfied 
with  an  ordinary  demonstration  ut  attachment  from  anvone. 
She  required  enthusi;ism. — sought  and  bid  for  it.  AVhen  the 
regent  was  rising  into  something  like  popularity,  by  the  splendid 
entertainments  which  he  gave — panly  for  the  benefit  of  trade,  and 
partly  because  he  was  pleased  to  the  very  top  of  his  bent  when 
plavin?  the  masniificent  Amphvtrion. — the  princess  appeared  in 
public  at  a  it  te  at  Vauxhall,  whither  she  was  escorted  by  the  Duke 
of  Gloucester,  on  whose  arm  she  leaned  as  she  passed  along,  soli- 
ciiin<^,  as  it  were,  signs  of  sympathy  at  a  festival  patronized  and 
presided  over  by  the  Duke  of  York. 

In  these  public  scenes  she  assumed  a  dignity  which  well  became 
her,  but  which  she  was  as  well-pleased  to  lay  aside,  as  soon  as  the 
occasion  which  called  for  it  had  piissed.  Nothing  gave  her  more 
gnitification.  for  instance,  after  receiving  congratuhitory  addresses 
from  corporations  and  other  similar  bodies,  which  ^he  did  with 
mingled  stateliness  and  courtesy,  than  to  not  only  change  her  dress 
of  ceremony  for  a  more  ordinary  one,  but  to  lake  off  her  stays  I 
The  latter  odd  fashion  was  not  favorable  to  a  figure?  which  was  now 
far  removed  from  the  grace  which  had  distinguished  the  princess 
in  her  eiU'lier  rears. 

m 

It  can  l>e  scarcelv  said  that  in  this  veju*  she  lost  one  friend  more 
bv  the  death  of  her  mo: her.  The  declining  years  of  the  aged 
Duchess  of  Brunswick  had  been  years  of  sorrow.  She  had  long 
beea  a  sufferer  from  confirmed  asthma;  and  in  March,  1813,  she 
was  attacked  bv  an  epidemic  which  was  fatally  prevalent  through- 
out the  metropolis.  It  was  attended  by.  or.  rather,  consisted  of, 
cou<*h  and  difficultv  of  breathin:!.  This  attack  ajjtrrarated  her 
other  sufferings ;  buL  though  confined  to  her  bed,  she  was  not  con- 
sidered in  tlan^er  when  her  daughter  saw  her  for  the  last  time,  on 
the  22d  of  March.  1S13.  The  princess  remained  with  the  duchess 
several  hours,  and  took  leave  without  suspecting  that  she  was 


CAROLINE  OF  BRUNSWICK. 


277 


never  again  to  see  her  mother  alive.  At  nme,  that  night,  the 
duchess  was  seized  with  violent  spasmodic  attacks,  under  which 
she  rapidly  sunk ;  and,  at  seventy-six  years  of  age,  the  "  Lady 
Augusta,"  who  was  bom  in  St.  James's  Palace,  died  in  a  modest 
lodging-house,  and  was  quietly  interred  in  Westminster  Abbey. 

It  is  due  to  the  Prince  Regent  to  say,  that  on  the  occasion  of 
the  death  of  the  Duchess  of  Brunswick,  he  exhibited  becoming  and 
courteous  feeling,  by  suggesting  to  the  Princess  Charlotte  that  she 
should  pay  a  visit  to  her  mother,  to  condole  with  her  on  this  lic- 
reavement.     It  was  suggested  that  after  the  funeral  would  be  the 
most  appropriate  season  for  such  a  visit ;  but  the  princess,  with 
quicker  wit  or  more  ready  sympathy,  repaired  at  once  to  her 
mother  s  residence,  and  thus  afforded  her  a  gratification,  which 
was  probably  the  more  appreciated,  as  it  was  the  less  expected. 
This  was  more  sympathy  than  she  received  at  the  hands  of  some 
persons,  who  probably  conceived,  that  by  behaving  rudely  to  her, 
they  should  be  paying  court  to  a  higher  r>ower.     Thus,  in  the 
course  of  the  summer,  the  princess  went  to  sup  at  Mr.  Angerstein*s, 
Lord  and  Lady  Buckinghamshire  were  there.     **The  latter  be- 
liaved  very  rudely,  and  went  away  inmiediately  after  the  princess 
arrived.     Whatever  her  principles,  iK)Utical  or  moral,  may  be,  I 
think."  says  Lady  Charlotte  Campbell  who  tells  the  anecdote, 
"  tliat  making  a  curtsey  to  the  person  invested  with  the  rank  of 
Princess  of  Wales,  would  be  much  better  taste  and  more  like  a 
lady,  than  turning  her  back,  asd  hunting  out  of  the  room." 

f n  addition  to  her  mother,  the  princess  may  be  said  to  have  also 
lost  her  brother  this  year ;  for  though  the  gallant  Duke  of  Bruns- 
wick  did  not  faU  at  Quatre  Bras,  till  l^flo.  she  saw  him  again,  but 
for  a  brief  moment,  after  his  departure  from  this  country,  two 
years  previously.  The  duke  was  simply  a  soldier  and  nothing 
more,  except  that  he  was  a  gallant  one.  He  Ud  a  few  r^rlics  with 
him,  in  this  country,  of  the  treasures  of  J|Tia-wick.  such  as  old 
books  and  antique  '^^ms,  the  value  of  neither  of  which  did  he  in 
the  least  understand.  His  habits  were  of  the  simplest,  except  in 
the  fashionable  dissipation  of  the  times ;  but  i^  he  was  the  slave 
of  some  pleasures,  he  was  by  no  means  the  servant  of  luxury.  He 
slept  on  a  thin  mattress  placed  on  an  iron  frame,  and  covered  by 


278 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS    OF  ENGLAND. 


a  single  sheet.     He  had  enjoyed  sweeter  sleep  on  it,  he  used  to 
say,  than  many  who  lay  upon  the  softest  down. 

When  he  went  to  take  leave  of  his  sister,  he  was  in  the  highest 
spirits,  from  having  at  last  the  prospect  of  an  active  career  in  arms. 
The  actor  and  the  scene  are  so  well-described  by  the  author  of 
"  The  Diary,"  that  citation  will  be  preferable  to  comment,  in  this 
case : — "  There  never  was  a  man  so  altered  by  the  hope  of  glory. 
His  stature  seemed  to  dilate,  and  his  eyes  were  animated  with  a 
fire,  and  an  expression  of  grandeur  and  delight,  which  astonished 
me.     I  could  not  help  thinking  the  princess  did  not  receive  him 
with  the  warmth. she  ought  to  have  done.     He  detailed  to  her  the 
whole  of  the  conversation  he  had  with  the  ministers,  the  Prince 
Regent,  &c.     He  mimicked  them  all  admirably ;  particularly  Lord 
Castlereagh— so  well  as  to  make  us  all  laugh ;  and  he  gave  the 
substance  of  what  had  passed  between  himself  and  those  persons, 
with  admirable  precision,  in  a  kind  of  question  and  answer  collo- 
quy, that  was  quite  dramatic.     I  was  astonished,  for  I  had  never 
seen  any  person  so  changed  by  circumstance.     He  really  looked 
a  hero.     The  princess  heard  all  that  he  said,  in  a  kind  of  sullen 
silence,  while  the  tears  were  in  several  of  the  bystanders'  eyes. 
At  length,  when  the  Duke  of  Brunswick  said,  *  the  ministers  re- 
fused me  all  assistance,  they  would  promise  me  neither  money 
nor  arms.     But  I  care  not.     I  will  go  to  Hamburgh,  I  hear  that 
there  are  some  brave  young  men  there,  who  await  my  coming,  and 
if  I  have  only  my  orders  from  the  Prince  Regent  to  act,  I  will  go 
without  either  money  or  arms,  and  gain  both.'     <  Perfectly  right ! ' 
replied  the  princess,  with  something  like  enthusiasm  in  her  voice 
and  manners.     *  How  did  Bonaparte  conquer  the  greater  part  of 
Europe  ?'  (the  duke  continued),  he  had  neither  money  nor  arms, 
but  he  took  them ;  and  if  he  did  that,  why  should  not  7,  who  have 
so  much  more  just  a  cause  to  defend  ?'     The  duke  then  proceeded 
to  state  how^the  regent  and  the  ministers  were  all  at  variance,  and 
how  he  had  obtamed'ltom  the  former  an  order  which  he  could  not 
obtain  from  the  ministers.     After  some  further  conversation,  he 
took  leave  of  his  sister.     She  did  not  embrace  him.     He  held  out 
liis  hand  to  me  kindly,  and  named  me  familiarly.     I  felt  a  wish  to 
express  something  of  the  kindly  feeling  I  felt  towards  him  :  but  I 


CAROLINE  OF  BRUNSWICK. 


279 


know  not  why,  in  her  presence  who  ought  to  have  felt  so  much 
more,  and  who  seemed  to  feel  so  little,  I  felt  chilled,  and  remamed 
silent.  I  have  often  thought  of  that  moment  since,  with  regret. 
When  the  duke  was  fairly  gone,  however,  she  shed  a  few  teafs,  and 
said,  emphatically, '  I  shall  never  see  him  more ! "' 

The  early  part  of  18U  was  spent  by  the  princess  m  lowness  ot 
spirit  and  littleness  of  pursuits.     She  was  now  established  in  Con- 
nau-ht  Place,  near  the  Edgeware  Road.     The  mansion  is  that 
now"  numbered  "  7,"   Connaught   Place.     She    seldom   saw  her 
daughter,  and  did  not  consult  her  own  dignity  by  taking  "  strolls 
acro°ss  the  fields  in  the  direction  of  the  canal,  or  by  ridiculmg  the 
regent  at  her  own  dinner-table.     It  was  this  sort  of  conduct  which 
made  people  account  of  her  as  being  worse  than  she  really  was. 
For  London,  it  was  a  year  of  triumphs  and  congratulations,  but 
she  shared  in  neither;  it  was  the  year  of  sovereigns,  when  Euro- 
pean  potentates  crowded  our  streets,  and  passed  by  the  door  ot  the 
princess  without  inquiring  for  her.     In  June,  mortification  was 
heaped  upon  her.     She  had  an  undoubted  right  to  be  present  a 
the  drawin-rooms  held  by  the  queen,  but  her  majesty,  who  had 
announcedlier  intention  to  hold  two  in  honor  of  the  foreign  mon- 
archs  then  in  England,  announced  to  the  princess  that  she  would 
not  be  permitted  to  be  present  at  either.     No  other  ground  for 
this  expulsion  was  alleged  than  the  regent's  will.     His  royal  high- 
ness had  declared  that  never  again  would  he  meet  her  either  m 
public  or  in  private,  and  consequently  her  appearance  on  the  occa- 
sions in  question  could  not  be  permitted  for  a  moment.     She  had 
prepared  a  letter  of  indignant  remonstrance,  but  Mr.  ^^  lutbread 
counselled  her  not  to  forward  it,  but  rather  to  write  one  in  a  sub- 
missive tone,  accepting  with  humility  the  ill-treatment  to  which  she 
was  thus  subjected.     This  council  is  said  to  have  given  consider- 
able discontent  to  Mr.  Brougham,  who  was  inclined  to  make  asser- 
tion of  her  right  to  be  present,  and  to  go  even  further,  if  that  were 

necessary.  ,/>!••• 

She  made,  however,  greater  sacrifices  than  that  of  reframmg 
from  appearing  at  court  on  a  gala  day.  Her  finances  had  become 
embarrassed,  in  spite  of  the  presence  of  a  controlling  treasurer; 
ana  her  friends  made  appUcation  to  pariiament  on  her  hehalt.     I  he 


280 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


CAROLINE   OF  BRUNSWICK. 


281 


regent  had  caused  it  to  be  understood  tliat  he  did  not  wish  to  cur- 
tad  her  personal  comforts,  or  cause  her  any  pecuniary  embarrass- 
ment, and  Lord  Castlereagrh  came  down  to  the  house  with  a  propo- 
sition of  settling  on  her  50,000/  per  annum.     Of  her  own  will,  she 
surrendered  15,000/.  of  this  sum,  and  it  was  agreed  that  the  revenue 
of  35,000/.  per  annum,  should  be  awarded  to  the  "  Princess  of 
Wales."     The   sacrifice   made   by   the   princess,  was   gracefully 
noticed  in  the  house,  by  Mr.  Whitbread,  at  whose  suggestion  it  is 
said  to  have  been  cordially  entered  into,  the  princess  having,  as  ho 
said,  a  full  sense  of  the  burthens  that  lay  heavy  on  the°nation. 
Such  conduct  ought  to  have  won  for  her  a  little  regard,  and  a  visit 
from  that  King  of  Prussia,  in  defence  of  whose  dominions  her 
father  had,  not  long  before,  laid  down  his  life,  a  stout  old  soldier, 
dying  in  his  harness,  like  a  knight  of  the  olden  time. 

She  sent  her  chamberlain  to  welcome  the  King  of  Prussia,  on 
his  arrival  in  this  country,  and  the  king  acknowledged  the  cour- 
tesy by  sending  Ms  chamberlain  to  return  thanks  for  it.     The 
same  stiff  intercourse  passed  with  the  other  sovereigns  and  princes  ; 
but  it  is  said  that  Sir  Thomas  Tyrwhitt  was  especially  charged  by 
the  prince  to  request  the  Russian  Emperor,  Alexander,  to  Abstain 
from  visiting   the  Princess   of  Wales !      They  saw  each   other, 
nevertheless,  though    under    different   circumstances  from   those' 
which  the  Princess  herself  could  have  desired.     The  incidents  of 
this  eventful  evening  are   thus   grai)hically  described  by  one  of 
the  ladies  in  wainting  on  the  princess;—*' There  came  a  note  from 
Mr.  Wliitbread  advising  her  at  tchat  hourshe  should  go  to  the  opera, 
and  telling  her  that  the  emperor  was  to  be  at  eleven  o'clock  at  the 
institution,  which  was  to  be  lighted  up  for  him  to  see  the  pictures. 
All  this  advice  tormented  the  princess,  and  I  do  not  wonder  that 
she  sometimes  loses  patience.     No  child  was  ever  more  thwarted 
and  controlled  than    she  is ;   and  yet  she  often  contrives  to  do 
herself  mischief,  in  spite  of  all  the  care  that  is    taken  of  her. 
When  we  arrived  at  the  opera,  to  the  i)rincess's  and  all  her  atten- 
dants' infinite  surprise,  we  saw  the  regent  placed  between  the  em- 
peror and  the  King  of  Prussia,  and  all  the  minor  princes  in  a  box 
to  the  right.     ^God  save  the  King,' was  pertbrming  when   the 
princess  entered  ;  and,  consequently,  she  did  not  sit  down.     I  was 


behind,  and  of  course  I  could  not  see  the  House  very  distinctly, 
but  I  saw  the  regent  was  at  that  time  standing,  applauding  the 
Grassinis.  As  soon  as  the  air  was  over,  the  whole  pit  turned 
round  to  the  princess's  box,  and  applauded  her.  We  who  were 
in  attendance  on  her  royal  highness  entreated  her  to  rise  and  make 
a  curtsey  ;  but  she  sat  immoveable  ;    and,  at  last,  turning  round, 

she  said  to  Lady ,     *  My  dear,  Punch's  wife  is  nobody,  when 

Punch  is  present.'  We  all  laughed,  but  still  thought  it  wrong  not 
to  acknowledge  the  compliment  paid  her,  but  she  was  right,  as  the 
sequel  will  prove.  *  We  shall  be  hissed,*  said  Sir  W.  Gell.  '  No, 
no,*  again  replied  the  princess,  with  infinite  good  humor,  *  I  know 
my  business  better  than  to  take  the  morsel  out  of  my  husband's 
mouth.  I  am  not  to  seem  to  know  that  the  applause  is  meant  for 
me,  till  they  call  my  name.*  The  prince  seemed  to  verify  her 
words,  for  he  got  up  and  bowed  to  the  audience.  This  was  con- 
strued into  a  bow  to  the  princess,  most  unfortunately,  I  say  most 
unfortunately,  because  she  has  been  blamed  for  not  returning  it. 
But  I,  who  was  an  eye-witness  of  the  circumstance,  knew  that  the 
princess  acted  just  as  she  ought  to  have  done.  The  fact  was  that 
the  prince  took  the  applause  to  himself,  and  his  friends  to  save 
him  from  the  imi)utation  of  this  ridiculous  vanity,  chose  to  say 
that  he  did  the  most  beautiful  and  elegant  thing  in  the  world,  and 
bowed  to  his  wife  !  When  the  opera  was  finished,  the  prince  and 
his  supporters  were  applauded,  but  not  enthusiastically,  and  scarce- 
ly had  his  royal  highness  left  the  box,  when  the  people  called 
for  the  princess,  and  gave  her  a  very  warm  applause.  She  then 
went  forward  and  made  three  curtsies,  and  hastily  withdrew."* 
The  semi-ovation  in  the  house  was  followed  by  a  demonstration 
something  more  noisy  in  the  streets.  The  princess's  charioteer 
Tvas  unable  to  drive  through  the  crowd  of  vehicles  in  Charles 
Street.  The  carriage  was  therefore  "  backed,"  and  driven  round 
by  Carlton  House.  In  front  of  this  royal  residence,  the  mob 
surrounded  her  royal  highness,  saluting  her  with  loud  and  reite- 
rated shouts.  The  ladies  who  were  accompanying  her,  were 
more  alarmed  at  the  popular  demonstration  than  she  was.     The 

*  Diary  illustrative  of  the  Times  of  George  IV. 


;  I  J 

-i  1 


<l1 


282 


LIVES   OF  THE  QUEENS   OF   ENGLAND. 


people  opened  the  carriage  door,  insisted  on  shaking  hands  with 
her,  and  asked  if  they  should  burn  Carlton  House.  "  No,  my 
good  people,"  was  her  reply,  **  be  quite  quiet,  let  me  pass,  and 
go  home  to  your  beds."  They  then  allowed  the  carriage  to  pass 
on  its  way,  as  she  desired,  but  they  continued  following  it,  as  long 
as  they  had  strength,  swiftness,  and  breath  enough,  shouting  the 
while,  the  favorite  popular  cry,  "  The  Princess  of  Wales  for  ever !" 
She  was  pleased,  says  the  original  narrator  of  this  scene,  at  this 
demonstration  of  feeling  in  her  favor,  and  she  never  showed  with 
so  much  dignity,  or  looked  so  well,  we  are  told,  as  she  did  under 
this  excitement.  She  was  depressed  in  spirits,  however,  the  next 
day,  for  the  same  people  crowded  the  parks,  and  flung  those  strong 
salutes  which  so  offended  the  delicate  Casca,  at  the  company  of 
foreign  sovereigns  and  princes  who  were  riding  in  the  ring,  and  who 
refused  to  pay  her  the  scant  courtesy  of  a  visit,  in  the  house  from 
which  she  could  hear  the  loud  huzzas  that  greeted  them  as  they 
passed  by  it. 

She  lived  on,  feverishly,  and  in  continually  disappointed  hope 
that  the  Emperor  of  Russia  would  yet  offer  her  the  jwor  homage 
of  a  morning  call.  In  this  hope  she  was  encouraged  by  some  of 
her  ladies-in-waiting,  who  told  her  that  they  had  heard,  from  good 
authority,  it  was  the  imperial  intention  to  i)ay  a  formal  visit  to 
Kensington,  on  a  day  named.  With  no  better  oflicial  authority 
than  this  to  trust  to,  she  sat  up,  dressed  ready  for  the  reception 
of  the  potentate,  whose  presence,  she  hoped,  would  lend  her  some 
of  the  prestige  of  respectability  which  she  fancied  herself  losing 
by  his  prolonged  absence.  And  still  he  came  not.  On  the  other 
hand,  she  met  with  disappointment  even  more  bitter.  Her  city 
friends  did  not  even  render  her  the  courtesy  of  forwarding  an 
invitation  to  the  grand  banquet  at  which  they  were  about  to 
regale  the  sovereigns  and  the  retinue  of  princes  in  their  tniin. 
Not  that  they  entirely  forgot  her,  but  then  their  remembrance  of 
her  w^as  rather  insulting  than  flattering.  Alderman  Wood,  for 
instance,  was  absurd  enough  to  ofter  her  a  window  in  Cheapside, 
from  which  she  might  view  the  procession  of  monarchs  and  minor 
j)otentates  on  their  way  to  dine  with  the  city  king!  This  vexed 
her  sorely,  as  so  emphatically  ''  rude  "  a  proceeding  was  likely  to 


CAROLINE  OF  BRUNSWICK. 


283 


do.  The  princess  would  have  less  felt  her  exclusion  from  an  en- 
tertainment in  the  city,  where  her  friends  abounded,  had  it  been' 
a  festival  from  which  ladies  were  altogether  excluded.  Her 
«'  sensibility  "  was  wounded  at  hearing  that  the  Duchess  of  Olden- 
burg, the  sister  of  the  Emperor  Alexander,  was  to  be  present, 
with  four  other  ladies.  "  This  was  galling,"  says  Lady  Chariotte 
Campbell,  in  her  «  Diary,"  and  the  princess  felt  her  own  particu- 
lar exclusion* from  this  fete  given  by  the  city  very  hard  to  bear, 
as  she  had  considered  the  city  folks  her  friends.  They,  however, 
were  not  to  blame,  as  these  royal  ladies  were  self-invited,  or  in- 
Tited  by  the  regent,  and  the  princess's  friends  had  not  time  to  call 
a  council  and  discuss  the  matter.  Immediately  after  this  bitter 
pill  came  another  from  Mr.  Whitbread,  recommending  her,  vpon 
no  account,  to  go  to  Drury  Lane,  on  Thurday  evening,  after 
having,  a  few  days  before,  desired  her  to  go.  "  You  see,"  said  the 
princess  to  one  of  her  ladies ;  "  you  see,  my  dear,  how  I  am 
plagued,"  and,  although  she  mastered  her  resentment,  the  tears 
came  into  her  eyes.  "  It  is  not,"  she  said, "  the  loss  of  the  amusement 
which  I  regret,  but  being  treated  like  a  child  and  made  the  puppet 
of  a  party.''  What  does  it  signify  whether  1  come  in  before  or 
after  the  regent,  or  whether  I  am  applauded  in  his  hearing  or  not; 
that  is  all  for  the  gratification  of  the  party,  not  for  my  gratification  ; 
'tis  of  no  consequence  to  the  princess,  but  to  Mr.  Whitbread ;  and 
that's  the  way  things  go,  and  always  will  till  I  can  leave  this  vile 

country." 

Wonderfully  elastic,  however,  were  the  spirits  of  the  princess, 
and  at  dinner,  on  the  day  when  her  disappointment  drew  tears 
from  her  eyes,  she  entertained  a  large  party,  with  some  grace  and 
more  gaiety.  The  question  of  her  being  present  at  the  theatre  on 
the  following  Thursday  was  discussed,  and  a  baronet  present,  whom 
the  authoresl  of  the  "  Diary  "  partially  veils  under  the  initials  of 
Sir  J— B— ,  insisted  that,  unless  Mr.  Whitbread  gave  some  very 
gtron<r  reasons  to  the  contrary,  the  princess  would  do  right  in 
goincr!  "  But,  I  fancy,"  said  Sir  John,  "  he  has  some  good  rea- 
sons,''and  then  she  must  yield.  Gad!"  he  added  to  a  neighbor 
at  table,  "  if  I  were  she,  and  AVhitbread  didn't  please  me,  I  would 
send  for  Castlercagh,  and  everyone  of  them,  till  I  found  one  that 


i'm 


i 


Hi 
1 1 


m 


284 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


did.  To  tell  you  the  truth,  I  am  sorry  the  princess  ever  threw 
herself  into  the  hands  of  Whitbread — it  is  not  the  staft'  on  which 
the  royalties  should  lean." — "  Ah !"  replied  the  baronet's  neigh- 
bor, "  but  at  the  moment  he  stepped  forth  her  champion  and 
deliverer,  who  was  there  that  would  have  done  as  much  ?" 

The  sequel  is  too  characteristic  and  singular  to  be  passed  over. 
The  princess  was  sometimes  more  vigorous  than  refined  in  her 
expressions,  and  this,  less  from  coarseness  tlian  ignorance  of  the 
value  and  sound  of  English  terms.  Thus,  when  a  letter  arrived 
from  Mr.  Whitbread,  during  this  very  dinner,  intimating  to  her 
that  there  was  a  box  reserved  for  her,  if  she  strongly  desired  to 
be  present  at  the  theatre  when  the  foreign  potentates  were  to 
appear  there  ;  but,  at  the  same  time,  strongly  urging  her  to  refrain 
from  being  present  ;  she  exclaimed,  after  dispatching  a  lady  to 
request  Mr.  Whitbread  to  come  to  her  immediately  : — **  If  he 
gives  me  good  reasons  I  will  submit ;  but  if  he  does  not,  d — n  me, 
den  1  go  !"  "  Those  were  her  words,  at  which  I  could  not  help 
smiling,"  says  the  authoress  of  the  "  Diary,"  "  but  she  was  in  no 
mind  to  smile,  so  I  concealed  the  impulse  I  felt  to  laugh." 

When  Mr.  Whitbread  waited  on  the  princess,  she  received  him 
rather  coolly,  and  listened  silently  to  his  enumeration  of  the  per- 
sons whose  opinion  it  was  that  she  should  not  appear  at  Drury 
Lane.  He  said  Mr.  Tiemey,  Mr.  Brougham,  and  Lord  Sefton 
were  of  opinion  that,  however  much  tlie  princess  might  be 
applauded,  the  public  would  say  it  was  at  the  instigation  of  Mr. 
Whitbread,  and  was  not  the  spontaneous  feeling  of  the  people  ;  that 
the  more  she  was  applauded,  the  more  they  would  say  so,  and  that 
if,  on  the  contrary,  a  strong  party  of  the  prince  regent's  friends 
and  paid  hirelings  were  there,  and  that  one  voice  of  disapproba- 
tion were  heard,  it  might  do  her  considerable  harm.  "  Besides," 
continued  Mr.  Whitbread,  "as  the  great  question  about  an  esta- 
blishment for  your  royal  highness  comes  on  to-morrow,  I  think  it 
is  of  the  utmost  importance  that  no  one  should  be  able  to  cast  any 
invidious  observation  about  your  forcing  yourself  on  the  public, 
or  seeming  to  defy  your  royal  highness's  husband."  In  fine,  the 
princess  was  overruled. 

In  the  mi<lst  of  her  disappointments  she  was   enlivened  by 


CAROLINE   OF   BRUNSWICK. 


285 


renewed  hopes  of  a  visit  from  the  Emperor  of  Russia,  whose 
expressed  intention  to  that  effect  was  said  to  have  given  consi- 
derable uneasiness  to  the  regent.  Meanwhile,  the  princess  found 
solace  in  various  ways — and  not  always  in  the  most  commendable, 
if  we  are  to  put  implicit  truth  in  the  following  account  of  a  freak, 
which  seems  more  a  like  a  "  freedom  "  of  the  kdies  at  the  court 
of  Charles  the  Second,  than  a  frolic  of  more  modern  and  less 
lively  times.  Such  a  story  is  best  told  in  the  words  of  a  witness, 
and,  if  we  may  so  speak,  a  confederate. 

"  To  amuse  herself  is  as  necessary  to  her  royal  highness  as  meat 
and  drink ;  and  she  made  Mr.  Craven,  and  Sir  W.  Gell,  and  my- 
self, promise  to  go  with  her  to  the  masquerade.     She  is  to  go  out 
at  her  back  door,  on  the  Uxbridge  (Bayswater)  road,  of  which 
*no  person  under  Heaven'  (her  curious  phraseology)  has  a  key  but 
her  royal  self,  and  we  are  to  be  in  readiness  to  escort  her  royal 
highness  in  a  hackney-coach  to  the  Albany,  where  we  are  to  dress. 
What  a  mad  scheme  at  such  a  moment,  and  without  any  strong 
motive  either,  to  run  the  ri^k  !     I  looked  grave  when  she  proposed 
this  amusement ;  but  I  knew  I  had  only  to  obey.     I  thought  of  it 
aU  night  with  fear  and  trembling."     In  the  supplementary  matter 
to  the  «  Diar}-,"  we  have   the  following  detail  as  the  curious  story 
respecting  this  masquerade  :— "  The  princess,"    says  the   editor, 
apparently,  "  it  was  related  to  me  by  undoubted  authority,  would 
go  to  the  masquerade,  and,  with  a  kind  of  girlish  folly,  she  enjoyed 
the  idea  of  making  a  grand  mystery  about  it,  which  was  quite  un- 
necessary.     The   Duchess  of  York  frequently  went  to   similar 
amusements  incognito,  attended  only  by  a  friend  or  two;    and 
nobody  found  fault  with  her  royal  highness.     The  princess  might 
have  done  the  same  ;  but  no !— the  fun,  in  her  estimation,  con- 
sisted in  doing  the  thing  in  the  most  ridiculous  way  possible.      So 
she  made  two  of  the  ladies  privy  to  her  schemes  ;  and  the  pro- 
gramme of  the  revel  was  that  her  royal  highness  should  go  down 
her  back  staircase  with  one  of  her  ladies,  while  the  cavaliers 
waited  at  a  private  door  which  led  into  the  street,  and  then  the 
partie  quarree  was  to  proceed  on  foot  to  the  Albany,  where  more 
ladies  met  her  royal  highness,  and  where  the  change  of  dress  was 
to  be  made.     AU  of  this  actually  took  place  ;  and  Lady told 


if' 


286 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


me  she  never  was  so  frightened  in  her  life  as  when  she  found 
herself  at  the  botton  of  Oxford  Street,  at  twelve  at  night,  on 
her  cavalier's  arm,  and  seeing  her  royal  highness  rolling  on  before 
her.  It  was  a  sensation,  she  told  me,  betwixt  laughing  and  crying, 
that  she  should  never  forget.  The  idea  that  the  princess  might 
be  recognized,  and  of  course  mobbed,  and  then  the  subsequent 
consequences,  which  would  have  been  so  fatal  to  her  royal  high- 
ness, were  all  so  distressing  that  the  party  of  pleasure  was  one  of 

real  pain  to  her.     This  mad  prank.  Lady told  me,  passed  off 

without  discovery,  and  certainly  without  any  impropriety  whatever, 
except  that  which  existed  in  the  folly  of  the  thing  itself.  It  was 
similar  imprudences  to  this  which  were  so  fatal  to  the  princess's 
reputation."  And  no  wonder,  if  indeed  these  stories,  as  alleged, 
were  true  in  their  details,  or  are  founded  on  truth. 

It  was  assuredly  a  time  when  the  mob  was  accustomed  to  speak 
pretty  plainly.  What  a  contrast  is  this  pedestrian  ramble  by 
night,  to  dress  for  Mrs.  Chichester's  masquerade,  to  the  state  pro- 
cession of  the  regent  into  the  city,  where  he  twice  dined, — once  at 
an  entertainment  given  by  the  merchants,  and  once  at  a  banquet 
given  by  the  lord  mayor  and  corporation.  On  the  latter  occasion 
especially,  his  passage,  from  Temple  Bar  nearly  to  the  dinner- 
table  itself,  was  assailed  by  most  uncomplimentary  vociferations 
on  the  part  of  the  populace.  Their  most  general  cry  was, 
"Where's  your  wife?" — and  that  portion  of  the  mob  which  ap- 
parently consisted  of  women  was  loudest  in  its  unsavory  exclama- 
tions against  the  vicegerent  of  the  kingdom.  He  dined  with  what 
appetite  he  might,  and  he  made  the  lord  mayor  (Domville),  ac- 
cording to  ancient  custom,  when  kings  sat  at  the  board  of  the  first 
magistrate,  a  baronet ;  but  he  registered  a  vow,  which  he  never 
broke,  that  never  again  would  he  condescend  to  be  a  guest  among 
citizens  to  whose  table  he  could  not  pass  without  running  the 
gauntlet  through  the  scourge  of  vile  tongues  that  attacked  him  on 
way.  His  mother.  Queen  Charlotte,  it  may  be  remembered,  did 
subsequently  honor  a  lord  mayor  with  her  presence ;  but  at  her, 
too,  the  loud  popular  tongue  wagged  so  insolently  that  the  royal 
lady,  although  she  courageously  concealed  her  alarm,  became  in- 
disposed on  her  return  home,  where  she  was  first  seized  with  those 


CAROLINE  OF  BRUNSWICK. 


287 


cruel  spasmodic  attacks  which  ultimately  overcame  her  strength 
and  surrendered  her  to  death. 

But  the  way  in  which  the  populace  resented,  on  the  head  of  the 
prince,  his  conduct  to  his  wife,  was  but  small  consolation  to  the 
latter  for  the  disappointment  and  insults  which  she  experienced  at 
the  hands  of  her  persecutors.  She  may  be  said  to  have  been 
literally  ejected  from  court.  She  was  not  allowed  to  present  her 
own  daughter,  although  that  daughter  had  declared  she  would  be 
j)resented  by  her  mother,  or  by  nobody.  It  was  not  enough  either 
that  the  foreign  sovereigns  and  great  captains,  for  or  with  whom 
her  father  had  fought  and  shed  his  blood — it  was  not  enough  that 
these  should  be  induced  to  turn  away  fi'om  the  house  where  dwelt 
a  lady  who,  through  her  father,  at  all  events,  had  some  claims 
upon  such  small  courtesy — but  the  determination  that  she  should 
not  meet  them  at  court  was  more  insulting  still.  The  queen 
thought  she  had  skilfully  provided  against  every  possible  emer- 
gency, when  the  two  drawing-rooms  were  announced  as  about  to 
be  held  in  1814.  It  was  doubless  intended,  at  first,  not  to  exclude 
the  princess  from  both,  but  simply  to  prevent  her  from  being  pre- 
sent at  the  one  to  be  graced  by  the  regent  and  his  imperial  and 
royal  guests.  But  the  regent  himself  was  determined  that  his 
consort  should  not  be  permitted  to  appear  at  either.  He  addressed 
a  letter  to  his  mother,  in  which  he  modestly  intimates  that  her 
court  would  be  no  court  without  him ;  that  he  should  attend  both 
draji'ing-rooms,  to  lend  them  greater  lustre  (almost  as  much  was 
expressed  in  words)  ;  and  that  as  he  had  resolved  never  to  en- 
counter his  wife,  it  was  of  course  necessary  that  she  should  stay 
away.  The  queen  accepted  the  conclusion  as  most  logically  ar- 
rived at ;  and  to  the  dignified  letters  addressed  to  her  by  the  prin- 
cess— letters  which  would  have  been  as  touching  as  they  were 
dignified,  had  they  been  of  her  own  inditing,  and  not  the  vicarious 
sentiments  of  her  friends — the  queen  addressed  now  taunting,  now 
contemptuous  replies.  The  spirit  of  them  was,  in  a  bitter  insinua- 
tion, that  though  the  commission  which  had  examined  into  her 
conduct  had  pronounced  her  free  from  guilt,  her  husband  would 
account  of  her  as  still  guilty,  and  the  court  would  hold  her  as  one 
convicted.     In  this  correspondence,  **  Caroline  P."  shines  with 


•  11 


288  LIVES  OF  THE   QUEEN'S  OF   ENGLAND. 

more  lustre  than  ''  Charlotte  R."  The  latter  appears  so  to  have 
hated  the  foiiner  as  to  be  glad  of  the  opportunity  to  hail  her  in- 
famous,— or  at  least  to  insinuate  that  she  was  so. 

But    "Caroline"   turned   from   exchanging   sharp   notes  with 
"Charlotte"  to  addressing  her  husband.     He  might,  she  said,  pos- 
sibly refuse  to  read  the  letter,  but  the  world  must  know  that  she 
had  written  it.     In  this  communication  she  states  she  would  have 
exercised  her  right  of  appearing  at  the  drawing-room  had  she  not 
been  *'  restrained  by  motives  of  personal  consideration  towards  her 
majesty."     She  protests  against  the  insult,  appeals  to  her  acquit- 
tal, to  her  restoration,  thereupon,  by  the  king  to  the  full  enjoy- 
ment of  her  rank  in  his  court,  and  she  adds :  '•  Since  his  majesty's 
lamented  illness,  I  have  demanded,  in  the  face  of  parliiuncnt  and 
the  country,  to  be  proved  guilty,  or  to  be  treated  as  innocent.     I 
will  not  submit  to  be  treated  as  guilty."     There  is  something,  too, 
of  the  taunting  style  which  the  queen  could  manage  with  so  much 
effect,  in  the  succeeding  passage.     The  prince   had  vowed  that 
never  again  would  he  meet  her  either  in  public  or  in  private. 
*•  Can  your  royal  highness,"  she  asks,  "  have  contemplated  the  full 

extent  of  your  declaration  ? Occasions  may  arrive  (one, 

I  trust,  is  fiir  distant)  when  I  must  appear  in  public,  and  your 

royal  highness  must  be  present  also Has  your  royal 

higlmess   forgotten  the  approaching   marriage  of  our  daughter, 

and  the  i)ossibility  of  our  coronation The  illustrious 

heir  of  the  House  of  Orange  had  announced  himself  to  he|^  she 
said,  as  her  future  son-in-law ;  and  then  she  adds,  couplin*r  the 
presence  of  the  Orange  Prince  with  that  of  the  illustrious  stran- 
gers m  the  metropolis  :  -  This  season  your  roval  highness  has 
chosen  for  treating  me  with  fresh  and  unprovoked  indignity ;  and 
of  all  his  majesty's  subjects  I  alone  am  prevented,  by  your  royal 
highness,  from  appearing  in  my  i)lace  to  partake  of  the  general 
joy,  and  am  deprived  of  the  indulgence  in  those  feelings  of  pride 
and  affection  permitted  to  everj-  mother  but  me."  It  wL  possible, 
as  the  writer  remarked,  that  this  letter  was  never  read  to  the  ex- 
alted individual  to  whom  it  wa^  addressed.  It  is  certain  that  the 
letter  was  not  thought  worthy  of  notice.  But  the  presumed  writer 
was  determined  that,  escaping  the  courteous  notice  of  her  husband, 


CAROLINE  OF  BRUNSWICK. 


289 


it  should  not  escape  the  more  general  notice  of  the  world.  She 
accordingly  sent  copies  of  her  correspondence  with  the  queen  and 
one  of  \he  correspondence  of  the  latter  with  the  prince,  to  the 
House  of  Commons,  with  an  expression  of  her  fears  that  there 
were  "  ultimate  objects  in  view  pregnant  with  danger  to  the  secu- 
rity of  the  succession  and  the  domestic  peace  of  the  relm." 

This  communication  raised  a  discussion,  and  Mr.  Methuen  pro- 
posed an  address  to  the  prince,  requesting  him  to  acquaint  the 
house  by  whose  advice  he  had  determined  never  to  meet  the  prin- 
cess. The  proposition,  however,  was  withdrawn.  Mr.  Bathurst, 
the  only  government  advocate,  stated  that  no  imputation  was  in- 
tended against  the  character  of  the  princess.  « The  charges  of 
guilt,"  he  admitted,  '-had  been  irresistibly  refuted  at  a  former 
I.eriod."  The  so-called  exclusion  from  court,  he  said,  simply  re- 
solved itself  into  the  non-invitation  of  the  i)rincess  to  a  court  festi- 
val—nothing more.  But,  as  Mr.  Whitbrcad  subsequently  re- 
marked, "such  non-invitation  was  an  infliction  worse  than  loss  of 
life :  it  is  loss  of  reputation,  blasting  to  her  character,  fatal  to  her 
fame."  The  government  thought  to  pacify  the  princess  by  hold- 
mg  out  to  her  the  prospect  of  an  increase  of  income ;  but  her 
friends  in  pariiament  asserted  that  she  would  sconi  to  barter  her 
rights  for  an  increased  income,  or  to  allow  her  silence  to  be  pur- 
chased in  exchange  for  an  adequate  provision. 


CHAPTER  VL 


A    DOUBLE    FLIGHT. 


Among  the  refugees  of  exalted  rank  whom  revolution  and  the 
fortunes  of  war  had  driven  to  seek  an  asylum  in  England,  the 
members  of  the  family  of  the  Stadt holder' of  Holland\ere  the 
most  conspicuous.  The  eldest  son  of  this  noble  family  became 
almost  an  Englishman  by  education  and  habit,  and  Oxford  yet 
reckons  him,  with  pride,  among  the  most  honored  of  her  alumni. 
As  revolution  and  the  fortunes  of  war  had  brought  the  famiW 
Vol.  II.~l;j  ^ 


''i  i\ 


290 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OK  ENGLAND. 


ill 


CAROLINE   OF  BRUNSWICK. 


hither,  so  a  liappy  turn  in  the  same  took  them  home,  and  restored 
them  to  a  cx)untry  which  had  now  become  for  them  a  kinrrdom. 
At  the  peace  of  1814,  tlie  Prince  of  Orange  once  more  came  to 
England,  not  as  a  refugee,  but  a  visitor  and  suitor.  The  heir  to 
a  Dutch  throne  came  to  sue  for  the  hand  of  the  heiress  to  the 
crown  of  Great  Britain,  and  his  suit  was  powerfully  backed  by 
the  sanction  of  the  heiress's  father.  Her  mother  gave  no  such 
sanction,  nor  was  she,  indeed,  asked  for  any.  Most  imiwrtant  of 
all,  the  young  lady  thus  wooed  did  not  at  all  sanction  the  proceed- 
mg.  Of  all  the  episodes  of  the  season,  there  was  none  more  stir- 
ring than  this. 

It  was  said  that  the  regent  himself  had  procured  the  previous 
admission  into  Warwick  House,  under  the  feigned  name  of  the 
CheviUier  de  St.  George,  but  that  the  princess  would  not  receive 
him.  In  this  refusal  she  was  supposed  to  be  supported  by  her 
mother,  and  to  act  under  the  advice  of  the  Duchess  of  Oldenburgh, 
who  already  had  in  view  a  humbler,  and,  as  it  turned  out,""  a 
luckier  aspirant,  for  the  hand  of  the  heiress.  Meanwhile,  all 
England  agreed  to  approve  of  the  match,  and  chose  to  look  upon 
the  union  as  a  thing  settled.  The  ballad-singers  made  the  streets 
re-echo  with  singing  -  Orange  Boven,"  and  Irish  wits  smilin-Iy 
accused  her  royal  highness  of  holding  an  Orange  L(xlge. 

The  regent  had  this  match  at  heart,  and  longed  to  see  it  con- 

eluded.      The    princess    allowed   herself  to   be    handed   to   her 

carnage  by  the  princely  wooer  from  the  dykes,  and  granted  him 

more  than  one  interview.     It  .ixm  became  evident  that  they  were 

not  agreed.     The  princess  pleaded  her  youth,  her  love  of  country, 

and  her  desire  to  be  more  intimately  acquainted  with  the  latter 

and  with  Its  laws,  history,  and  constitution,  before'she   should 

surrender  herself  to  the  cares  and  duties  of  the  married  state. 

Ihe  Fnnce  of  Orange  insisted,  as  far  as  lover  dared,  that  his  wife 

must  necessarily  reside  with  him  in  Holland.    The  prospect  made 

the  princess  shudder ;  but  it  remarkably  suited  the  wishes  of  her 

sire,  whose  most  ardent  desire  was,  to  place  as  wide  a  distance 

as  possible  between  the  daughter  and  her  mother.     The  Prince 

of  Orange  had  made  no  secret  of  his  desire,  that,  in  the  event  of 

his  marriage  with  the  princess,  her  mother  should  tal^e  up  no 


291 


permanent  residence  in  Holland.  This  desire— not  over  mildly 
expressed— had,  periiaps,  the  most  to  do  with  rendering  the  union 
imix)ssible.  The  princess,  indeed,  was  not  inclined  towards  the 
prince,  and  would  not  willingly  have  left  the  country  of  her  birth; 
but  to  her  warm  friends,  at  least,  she  declared,  that,  in  the  present 
critical  situation  of  the  Princess  of  AVales,  she  would  not  abandon 
her  mother.  The  latter  was  touched  ;  but  it  was  just  the  moment 
when  she  was  most  strongly  possessed  by  a  desire  to  go  abroad, 
and  she  thought  that  this  desire  might  be  more  speedily  realized 
if  her  daughter  were  married  thaji  if  she  remained  single.  She 
was,  on  the  whole,  rather  disappointed  than  otherwise— except 
that  the  breaking  otr  of  the  match  was  an  annoyance  to  the  regent, 
and  t/iat  was  some  consolation,  at  all  events. 

Meanwhile,  the  dinners  at  Connaught  House  and  the  little  par- 
ties at  Blackheath  continued  as  usual.  If  a  great  deal  of  frivolity 
were  present  at  them,  it  cannot  be  said  that  grave  wisdom  was 
always  lacking;  for,  by  the  side  of  a  public  singer,  would  some- 
times  be  seated  no  less  a  person  than  Doctor  Parr.  Of  personal 
intercourse  between  the  mother  and  daughter,  there  was  now 
scarcely  any,  but  their  correspondence  was  still  kept  up ;  and  it 
was  not  the  less  sincere  on  the  poor  mother's  side,  from  the  cir- 
cumstance of  her  occasionally  forgetting  orthography  in  the  ardor 
of  her  affection. 

The  regent,  soured  by  his  defeat  with  respect  to  the  union  of 
his  daughter  and  the  Prince  of  Orange,  was  more  than  commonly 
irritated  by  the  knowledge  that  his  wife  and  child  were  engaged 
in  a  frequent  epistolary  corresimndence,  and  that  he  had,  hitherto, 
been  unable  to  prevent  it.  He  was  satisfied  that  such  corres- 
pondence could  not  be  maintained  without  the  connivance  of  the 
ladies  of  his  daughter's  household,  and  he  determined  to  meet  the 
evil  by  dissolving  the  establishment. 

Before  this  resolution  had  been  arrived  at,  the  princess  was 
subjected  to  much  petty  persecution,  rendered  the  more  annoying 
by  being  continual,  and  which  made  up  in  enduring  length  what  i^t 
wanted  in  intensity.  It  was  said,  at  the  time,  that  even^'the  letters 
in  her  writing-desk  found  their  way  into  her  father's  hands ;  and 
there  was  so  much  done  at  this  time  that  was  degradincr  to  th« 


111 


Il  r 


292 


LIVES   OF   THE    QUEENS   OF   ENGLAND. 


doers,  that  the  report  is  recomraendeil  at  least  by  its  probability. 
At  all  events,  "  wearied  out  by  a  series  of  acts  all  proceeding 
from  the  spirit  of  petty  tyranny,  and  each  more  vexatious  than 
another,  though  none  of  tliem  very  important  in  itself,"  the  princess 
was  driven  to  a  very  extreme  measure  by  the  uncalled-for  and  un- 
dignified severity  of  her  irritated  sire. 

On  the  16th  of  July,  1814,  the  prince  regent,  who  had  previous- 
ly secured  Cranbourne  Lodge,  in  Windsor  Forest,  as  a  residence 
for  his  daughter,  and  had  even,  equally  unknown  to  her,  but  in 
concert  with  Queen  Charlotte,  nominated  the  new  ladies  of  the 
princess's  household,  repaired  to  Warwick  House,  accompanied  by 
the  ladies  so  named.  The  party  had  only  to  traverse  the  gardens 
of  Carlton  House  to  arrive  at  their  destination.  The  ladies  were 
the  Countess  Dowager  of  Rosslyn  and  the  Countess  of  Ilchester, 
the  two  Miss  Coates,  and  Miss  Campbell,  fonnerly  sub-governess 
to  the  princess.  They  were  placed  in  an  apartment  ai^acent  to 
that  into  which  the  regent  entered  as  soon  as  he  knew  that  it  was 
occupied  by  the  princess. 

Without  ceremony,  he  announced  to  the  astonished  lady  that  her 
establishment  in  that  house  was  from  that  moment  dismissed ;  that 
she  must  instantly  repair  to  the  seclusion  of  Cranbourne  Lodge ; 
and  that  the  newly-appointed  ladies  of  her  household  were  in  the 
next  apartment,  ready  to  wait  upon  and  accompany  her. 

The  princess  was  astonished,  but  she  was  wonderfully  self- 
possessed,  and  her  presence  of  mind,  helped  by  her  love  for  a  little 
romantic  adventure,  admirably  served  her  on  this  occasion.  She 
requested  a  few  minutes'  respite,  that  she  might  retire,— take  leave 
of  her  now  dismissed  ladies,  and  superintend  some  preparations 
for  departure.  The  prince  acquiesced,  and  leaving  the  new  ladies 
in  charge  of  the  princess,  retumea  to  Cariton  House  to  dress  for  a 
dinner  en  vt'lle. 

He  was  hardly  gone  when  the  princess  was  gone  too.  Silently 
and  swiftly  descending  the  stairs,  she  issued  from  the  doors,  and 
in  half  a  minute  stood  alone  upon  the  pavement  of  Cockspur 
Street.  Lord  Brougham  says,  '*  it  was  a  fine  evening  in  July, 
about  the  hour  of  seven,  when"— he  adds  with  a  sort  of  contempt 
for  people  of  the  lower  order,  and  indeed  with  much  inaccuracy  to 


Ik 


CAROLINE   OF  BRUNSWICK. 


293 


boot — "  when  the  streets  were  deserted  by  all  persons  of  condition  J' 
From  the  old  stand  at  the  bottom  of  the  Haymarket  she  called  a 
coach,  whose  lucky  driver  (Higgins)  obeyed  the  summons,  and 
having  handed  the  heiress  of  P^ngland  into  the  damp  straw  of  his 
dirty  and  ricketty  vehicle,  listened  to  her  order  to  drive  towards 
Oxford  Street ;  in  short,  to  the  Princess  of  AVales'  in  Connaught 
Place, — to  be  quick,  and  he  should  not  have  to  regret  it.  The 
guileless  Higgins  concluded  that  he  w^as  taking  a  lady's  lady  out 
to  tea,  and  that  the  maid  of  one  establishment  was  going  to  make 
an  evening  of  it  with  the  maids  of  another.  Unconscious  that  he 
was  contributing  in  his  own  person  to  the  history  of  England  on 
that  eventful  summer's  evening,  Higgins  in  due  course  of  time 
reached  Connaught  Place,  and  when  he  heard  to  the  inquiry  of 
nis  "fare"  whether  her  mother  was  at  home,  that  the  page  an- 
swered, "  No,  your  royal  highness,  the  Princess  of  Wales  is  at 
Blackheath,"  he  became  proudly  sagacious  of  largesse  to  come,  and 
was  convinced  that  he  had  been  a  right  royal  coachman  that  night, 
by  token  that  he  received  three  guineas  for  his  honorarium. 

A  messenger  was  dispatched  to  Blackheath  with  a  request  to 
the  princess  to  return  immediately  to  her.  She  was  met  by  the 
bearer  of  the  message  on  her  way,  and  with  ready  good  sense 
drove  to  either  house  of  Parliament,  in  search  first  of  Mr.  Whit- 
bread,  then  of  Lord  Grey,  but  without  success  in  either  case. 
Meanwhile,  another  messenger  had  been  dispatched  for  Mr. 
Brougham,  the  law-adviser  of  the  Princess  of  Wales,  and  a  third 
for  Miss  Mercer  Elphinstone,  the  yound  bosom-friend  of  the  Prin- 
cess Charlotte.  Mr.  Brougham  arrived  first,  and  soon  after  Miss 
Elphinstone  had  reached  the  house,  the  Princess  of  Wales  also 
arrived,  accompanied  by  Lady  Charlotte  Lindsey.  "It  was 
found,"  said  Mr.  Brougham,  "  that  the  Princess  Charlotte's  fixed 
resolution  was  to  leave  her  father's  house,  and  that  which  he  had 
appointed  for  her  residence,  and  thenceforward  to  live  with  her 
mother."  But  Mr.  Brougham  is  understood  to  have  placed  him- 
self under  the  painful  necessity  of  explaining  to  her  that  by  the 
law,  as  all  the  twelve  judges  but  one  had  laid  it  down  in  George 
the  First's  reign,  and  as  it  was  now  admitted  to  be  settled,  the 
"king  or  the  regent  had  the  absolute  power  to  dispose  of  the  per- 


'     4.1 


294 


LIVES  OF  THE   QCEENS   OF   ENGLAND. 


CAROLINE   OF  BRUNSWICK. 


295 


sons  of  all  the  royal  family,  while  under  age."     Another  account 
states  that  the  princess  met  this  announcement  by  the  declaration, 
made  amid  many  tears  and  much  sobbing,  that  she  would  rather 
toil  for  her  daily  bread  at  five  shillings  a  week  than  continue  to 
endure  the  persecution  to  which  she  had  of  late  been  subjected. 
The  Princess  of  Wales  was  very  much  affected  by  this  demonstra- 
tion of  her  daughter's  affection  and  confidence,  but  she  united  with 
Mr.  Brougham  in  urging  her  to  submit  to  her  father's  will.     The 
Princess  Chai*lotte  continued  to  show  fixed  reluctance  to  adopt 
such  a  course,  and  was  expressing  her  determination  not  to  follow 
it,  when  the  Archbishop   of  Canterbury  arrived,  but  the  page 
refused  to  give  him  admission,  and  he  remained  at  the  door  seated 
in  a  hackney-coach.    The  first  great  official  from  the  regent's  side, 
who  was  admitted  into  the  house,  was  Lord  Eldon.     lie  had  been 
dispatched  from  the  Duke  of  York's,  where  the  regent  was  dining, 
when  the  intelligence  of  his  daughter's  flight  had  been  conveyed 
to  him  by  the  ladies  to  whose  care  he  had  committed  her.     "  The 
Lord  Chancellor  Eldon,"  says  Lord  Brougliara,  "  first  arrived,  but 
not  in  any  particular  imposing  state,  regard  being  had  to  his  emi- 
nent station,  for  indeed  he  came  in  a  hackney-coach.     Whether  it 
was  that  the  example  of  the  Princess  Charlotte  herself  had  for  the 
day  brought  this  simple  and  economical  mode  of  conveyance  into 
fashion,  or  that  concealment  was  much  studied,  or  that  disi)ateh 
was  deemed  more  essential  than  ceremony  and  [)om]),— certain  it 
is,  that  all  who  came,  includiug  the  Duke  of  York,  arrived  in 
similar  vehicles,  and  that  some  remained  enclosed  in  them,  without 
entering  the  royal  mansion."     Lord  Eldon  appears  to  have  treated 
the  princess  wjth  some  roughness,  adding  threats  to  the  entreaties 
of  others,  and  menacing  her  with  being  closely  shut  up,  if  she  did 
not  obey.     In  his  own  account  of  this  evening  and  its  incidents,  he 
says,  that  the  princess,  in  answer  to  his  observations,  only  "kicked 
and  bounced,"  and  protested  that  she  positively  would  not  go  back. 
The  chancellor  declared,  as  positively,  that  he  would  not  leave  the 
house  without  her.     "  At  length,"  Lord  Brougham  concludes  his 
narrative,  "after  much  pains  and  many  entreaties  used  bv  the 
Duke  of  Sussex  and  the  Princess  of  Wales  herself,  as  well  as  Miss 
Mercer  Elphinstone  and  Lady  Charlotte  Lindsey  (whom  she  al- 


ways  honored  with  a  just  regard),  to  enforce  the  advice  given  by 
Mr.  Brougham,  that  she  should  return  without  delay  to  her  own 
residence,  and  submit  to  the  regent,  the  young  princess,  accom- 
panied by  the  Duke  of  York  and  her  governess,  who  had  now 
been  sent  for  and  arrived  in  a  royal  carriage,  returned  to  Warwick- 
liouse  between  four  and  five  o'clock  in  the  morainsr.'* 

Soon  after  this  occurrence  the  princess  was  removed  to  Cran- 
bourne  Lodge,  where  she  bore  the  secluded  life  she  was  constrain- 
ed to  lead,  with  more  of  a  calm  than  a  cheerful  resignation.  She 
was  not,  however,  there  forgotten  by  her  friends.  The  Duke  of 
Sussex  rose  in  his  place  in  parliament  to  inquire  if  his  royal  niece 
was  or  was  not  in  a  sort  of  **  durance,"  and  whether  she  were  per- 
mit ted  to  see  her  friends.  Ministers  replied  to  these  queries  in 
that  official  way  which  answers  without  enlightening,  and  further 
measures  were  spoken  of;  but  the  Duke  of  Sussex  was  seized 
with  an  attack  of  asthma,  which  popular  report  attributed  to  a 
sharp  communication  made  to  him  by  the  regent,  and  therewith 
no  further  mention  was  made  of  the  royal  recluse  in  Windsor 
Forest. 

But  there  was  another  recluse  anxious  to  emancipate  herself 
and  fly  from  the  restrictions  and  conventionalities  of  English 
living  to  the  greater  liberty  allowed  on  the  continent.  There 
were  very  few  persons  who  thought  the  princess  well-advised  in 
this  desire,  except  Mr.  Canning.  Into  his  hands  the  wife  of  the 
regent  committed  a  letter  which  Lord  Liverpool  was  requested  to 
submit  to  the  prince.  It  contained  a  brief  description  of  her  un- 
merited condition,  expressed  a  wish  of  being  allowed  to  withdraw 
to  the  continent,  chiefly  for  thb  purpose  of  visiting  her  brother, 
and  finally  made  offer  of  resigning  the  Rangership  of  Greenwich 
Park  in  favor  of  her  daughter,  and  also  to  make  orer  to  her  the 
residence  (Montague  House)  which  her  mother  had  occupied  at 
Blackheath.  The  principal  reason  assigned  for  her  wishing  to 
withdraw  was  that  she  had  nothinfj  now  to  bind  her  to  Ennrhind 
but  her  daughter,  and  from  her  society  she  was  now  entirely  and 
most  unjustly  excluded. 

Through  Lord  Liverjx)ol,  the  regent  returned  for  answer  that 
she  was  entirely  free  to  go  or  stay ;  that  no  resti-aint  whatever 


296 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEEXS   OF  ENGLAND. 


would  be  put  upon  her  in  that  respect ;  that,  as  regarded  the  ran- 
gership,  on  her  resignarion  of  that  office,  the  regent  wouhl  see  to 

.  its  being  tilled  up  by  a  properly-qualified  person,  and  that,  with 
respect  to  Montague  House,  the  daughter  of  the  Prince  Regent 
could  never  be  permitted  by  him  to  reside  in  a  house  which  liad 
ever  been  the  dwelling-place  of  the  Princess  of  Wales ! 

This  reply— the  princess's  comment  on  which  was  "  end  well, 
all  well"— reached  her  at  Worthing,  whither,  after  a  brief  inter- 
view with  her  daughter,  she  had  already  repaired.  She  remained 
m  the  neighborhood  but  a  few  days  after  she  received  the  desired 
missive,  and  the  Jason  frigate,  commanded  by  Captain  King,  lay 
in  the  offing,  waiting  her  pleasure  and  convenience  to  embark. 
She  lingered  during  those  few  days  as  if  reluctant,  after  all,  to 
leave  the  land  where  she  had  not  known  an  hour's  happiness  since 
she  had  first  set  her  foot  upon  its  shore.  She  would  linger  on  the 
beach  at  night,  regardless  of  the  admonitions  of  her  Attendants, 
sitting  dreamily  and  despondingly,  gazing  over  the  waters  or  at 
the  moon  by  which  they  were  illumined,  and  once  breakin-  from 

her  reverie  with  the  ejacidat ion-"  Well,  grief  is  unavailingrwhen 

late  impels  me." 

On  the  9th  of  August  she,  for  the  last  time,  appeared  on  Worth- 
ing Beach,   with  Lady  Charlotte   Lindsey  and    Lady  Elizabeth 
Forbes.     It  was  her  intention  to  embark  from  thence,  but  fcaiful 
of  the  crowd  that  was  then  collecting,  she  quietly  withdrew  to 
South  Lancing,  about  two  miles  off,  whither  the  captain's  bar-e 
proceeded  to  meet  her.     She  was  followed,  however,  by  nearly 
all  the  persons  in  carriages,  mounted,  or  on  foot,  whose  curiosity, 
It  may  be  added,  was  especially  aroused  by  the  appearance  of  a 
large  tm-case  among  the  luggage,  on  which  was  painted  in  white 
letters,  "  IM  Royal  Highness  the  Princess  of  Wales,  to  be  always 
with  her."     It  seemed  as  if  she  for  ever  wished  to  have  some 
mystery  attached  to  her,  or  mystification  to  others.    Her  domestics 
had  gone  on  board  at  Worthing.     On  South  Lancing  beach  she 
appeared  dressed  in  "a  dark  cloth  pelisse  with  large  gold  clasp«» 
and  a  cap  of  velvet  and  green  satin,  of  the  Prussian  hussar  cos- 
tume, with  a  green  feather."     She  was,  with  her  ladies,  driven 
down  to  the  beach,  in  a  pony  chaise,  by  her  own  coachman. 


CAROLINE   OF  BRUNSWICK. 


297 


On  taking  her  seat  in  the  barge,  she  turned  round  and  kissed 
her  hand  to  the  assembled  .people,  by  way  of  farewell.  To  the 
mute  greeting  the  people  returned  as  mute  reply.  The  ladies 
waved  their  handkerchiefs,  the  men  uncovered.  She  probably 
construed  this  silent  adieu  as  intended  to  denote  respect  mid 
regret,  and  she  was  so  overcome  tliat  she  fainted  on  her  way  to 
the  ship.  On  the  deck,  she  was  received  by  Captain  King,  to 
whom  one  of  the  regent's  brothers  had  previously  remarked: 
**  You  are  going  to  convey  the  Princess  of  Wales  to  the  Conti- 
nent.    You  are  a  great  fool  if  you  don't  make  love  to  her." 

Greatly  as  her  spirits  were  depressed  at  starting,  their  natural 
elasticity  soon  brought  her  round  again  to  her  ordinary  condition 
of  cheerfulness.  On  the  12th  of  August,  the  regent's  birth-day, 
as  the  ship  was  passing  the  Texel,  a  royal  salute  was  fired,  by  her 
order,  it  is  said,  in  honor  of  the  day.  The  salute  would,  probably, 
have  been  fired  without  any  such  command.  What  were,  without 
doubt,  her  own  s[)ontaneous  acts,  were  the  birth-day  banquet  at 
which  she  presided ;  the  health  of  her  husband,  which  she  gave 
with  a  s])irit  that  might  have  been  taken  for  sincerity ;  and  the 
ball  at  which  she  danced  as  joyously  as  though  she  had  been  a 
youthful  bride,  being  borne  to  the  bridegroom  she  loved,  and  not  a 
mature  and  child-deprived  matron  cast  out  by  her  husband,  be- 
tween whom  and  herself  there  reigned  as  bitter  hatred  as  ever 
raged  in  the  bosom  of  any  pair  of  mortal  beings.  The  hatred  on 
his  part  is  illustrated  by  an  anecdote,  which  was  in  circulation  at 
this  unhappy  period.  According  to  this  story,  "  On  the  evening 
previous  to  the  Princess  of  Wales's  departure  from  England,  the 
regent  had  a  party  and  made  merry  on  the  joyful  occasion.  It  is 
even  said  that  he  proposed  a  toast: — *To  the  Princess  of  Wales* 

d n,  and  may  she  never  return  to  England.'     It  seems  scarcely 

possible  that  any  one  should  have  allowed  his  tongue  to  utter  such 
a  horrible  imprecation.  But  it  may  be  believed  the  regent  did,  so 
great  was  his  aversion  to  his  wife.  Besides,  he  was  not,  probably, 
\Gry  well  aware  what  he  was  saying  at  that  moment." 


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CAROLINE  OF   BUUNSWIOK. 


299 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE    ERRANT   ARIADNE. 

The  early  period  of  the  travels  of  the  princess  on  the  continent 
calls  for  nothing  more  than  simple  record.  81ie  left  the  Jason 
under  all  the  customary  honors ;  and  when  she  entered  HamlauMrh 
on  the  IGth  she  dropped  her  English  to  assume  a  German  tit?e, 
that  of  Countess  of  Wolfenbuttcl.  Her  suite  consisted  of  the  two 
ladies  we  have  already  named,  Mr.  St.  Leger,  and  Sir  William 
Gell.  Mr.  Keppel  Craven  subsequently  joined  her  at  Brunswick. 
Dr.  Holland  accompanied  her  as  physician,  and  Captain  Hesse  as 
equerr^'.  Thus  attended  she  appeared  at  the  theatre  at  Ilambur-h, 
where  she  was  received  with  a  storm  of  applause,  and  entered 
Brunswick,  where  she  was  welcomed  by  her  brother  the  duke, 
and  with  a  loud-tongucd  cordiality  by  the  inhabitants. 

The  reception  touched  her,  but  not  deeply  enough  to  induce  her 
to  profit  by  it.  AVithin  a  fortnight  she  brushed  the  tears  from  her 
eyes,  left  Brunswick  behind  her,  and  was  on  the  highroad  of 
Europe,  as  arrant,  as  self-willed,  and  as  obstinate  a  princess  as 
ever  destroyed  a  reputation,  and  rushed  blindfold  upon  ruin. 

She  now  travelled  under  the  appellation  of  Countess  of  CorH> 
wall,  and  had  one  English  gentleman  less  in  her  train,  Mr.  St. 
Leger  having  withdrawn  from  the  honor  of  waiting  on  her,  at 
Brunswick.  The  time  had  not  yet  arrived  when  the  mot  d'ordre 
had  been  given  to  treat  her  with  disrespect.  The  governors  of 
German  cities  were  courteous  to  her  as  she  passed,  and'tlie  Marshal 
Duke  de  Valmy,  with  all  the  authorities  of  Stnisburg,  offered  her 
the  expression  of  their  homage  when  she  traversed  that  portion  of 
France.  After  spending  the  greater  portion  of  September  in  a 
tour  through  Switzerland,  she  finally  sojourned  for  a  while  at 
Geneva,  where  she  met  with  the  ex-Empress  of  France,  Maria 
Louisa,  and  became  for  a  time  on  intimate  terms  with  an  imperial 
lady,  who,  like  herself,  was  separated  from  hi-r  husband.     Like 

13* 


her,  she  was  stripped  of  her  old  dignity ;  and  like  her  she  was  ac- 
companied by  a  young  boy.  But  those  boys  were  not  more  differ- 
ent in  rank  than  the  two  women  were  in  their  [)osition,  similar  as 
this  was  in  many  respects.  The  boys  were  Napoleon  Francis,  ex- 
King  of  Rome,  and  William  Austin,  son  of  the  Blackheath 
laborer. 

The  mother  of  the  former,  however,  like  the  adoptive  mother 
of  the  latter,  had  ever  manifested  an  alacrity  in  sinking ;  and  at 
the  overthrow  of  the  heroic  Corsican^her  husband, acknowledged 
with  a  curtesy  the  proceeding  which  robbed  her  of  an  imperial 
crown,  and  conferred  in  its  i)lace  the  ducal  coronet  of  three  cheese- 
making  duchies  in  Italy.  Again,  no  sooner  had  the  breath  of  life 
flown  from  the  lips  of  the  father  of  her  child  than,  in  character  of 
wife,  she  hurriedly  entered  the  humble  household  of  an  undis- 
tinguished German  soldier — a  Teutonic  man-at-arms,  who,  like 
Mark  Antony,  accepted  with  modest  thankfulness  "  the  cold  piece 
left  on  dead  Cicsar's  trencher." 

These  two  women,  illustrious  by  rank  rather  than  character, 
lived  much  in  each  other's  society.  They  dined  together,  sang 
together,  together  listened  to  the  discussions  of  the  philosophers 
whom  they  assembled  around  them  ;  and  when  together  they  at- 
tended a  fancy-dress  ball,  one  at  least  astonished  the  other, — the 
princess  surprising  the  ex-empress  by  appearing  in  what  was  called 
the  costume  of  Venus,  and  waltzing  with  a  lack  of  grace  that  might 
have  won  laughter  from  the  goddess  of  whom  the  waltzer  was  the 
over-fat  representative. 

Maria  Louisa  was  not  the  only  unhusbanded  wife  whom  the 
wandering  princess  encountered  in  Switzerland.  The  divorced 
wife  of  the  Grand  Duke  Constantine  was  of  this  illustrious  society. 
This  lady  was  the  Juliana  of  Saxe-Coburg,  who,  on  mairj  ing  the 
Russian  prince,  took  for  her  new  appellation  the  name  of  Anna 
Feodorowna,  and  who  wa^  so  rejoiced  to  lay  that  name  down  again 
after  she  had  escaped  from  the  brutalities  of  her  husband.  The 
Countess  of  Cornwall  looked  upon  her  with  more  than  ordinary 
interest  for  she  was  the  sister  of  that  Prince  Leopold  who  ulti- 
mately married  the  Princess  Charlotte,  and  whose  aspiring  hopes 
were  known  to  and  sanctioned  by  the  wandering"  countess"  her- 


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CAROLINE  OF  BRUNSWICK. 


801 


self.  The  presence  in  one  spot  of  three  princesse,  all  separated  from 
their  then  living  husbands,  had  something  as  singular  in  it  {is  the 
meeting  of  Voltaire's  unsceptred  kings  at  the  table  d'hote  at  Venice. 
The  ex-empress  was  separated  from  her  husband  because  she  did 
not  care  to  shai-e  his  fallen  fortunes;  the  Grand  Duchess  wiis 
living  alone,  because  the  Grand  Duke  did  not  care  for  his  wife  ; 
and  the  other  lady  and  her  husband  had  the  ocean  between  them, 
because  they  heartily  hated  each  other.  Three  sufficient  reasons 
to  unite  the  triad  of  wanderers  within  the  territories  of  the  Swiss 
republic. 

In  October  the  Countess  of  Cornwall,  or  Princess  of  Wales,  as 
it  will  be  more  convenient  to  call  her,  had  passed  into  the  Imperial 
city  of  Milan.  Her  passage  had  something  of  a  triumphant  as- 
pect ;  she  reviewed  the  troops  drawn  up  in  honor  of  her  visit- 
smiled  at  the  shouts  of  welcome,  mingled  with  cries  for  the  liberty 
of  Italy,  which  greeted  her— and  endured  the  noisy  homage  ut- 
tered hy  a  dozen  bouches  a  feu.  She  had  now  but  one  English 
lady  in  her  suite.  Lady  Charlotte  Lindsey  having  resigncd°her 
office  when  in  Germany. 

It  was  at  Milan  that  her  suite  first  began  to  assume  a  foreign 
aspect.     The  princess  was  about  to  enter  on  a  wide  course  of 
travel,  and,  it  was  said,  that  she  needed  the  services  of  those  who 
had  had  experience  in  that  way.     The  first,  and  most  celebrated, 
official  engaged  to  help  her  with  his  service,  was  a  Bartholomew 
Bergami,  a  handsome  man  of  an  impoverished  family,  who  had 
served  in  the  army  as  private  courier  to  General  Count  Pino 
(bearer  of  his  despatches,  it  is  to  be  presumed),  had  received  the 
decoration  of  some  ''order;"  and— whether  by  right  of  an  acre  or 
two  of  land  belonging  to  his  family,  or  because  of  his  merits— bore 
the  high-sounding  name,  but  not  very  exalted  dignity  of  "II  Signor 
Barone."     He  had  three  sisters,  all  of  whom  were  respectably 
married ;  the  eldest  and  best  known  was  a  Countess  Oldi,  a  true 
Italian  lady,  who  loved  and  hated  with  equal  intensity. 

At  Milan,  as  at  Geneva,  the  princess,  undoubtedly,  failed  to 
leave  a  favorable  impression  of  her  character.  At  the  latter  place, 
the;  sight  of  herself,  and  the  great  Sismondi,  both  stout,  and  the 
former  attired  as  the  Queen  of  Love,  waltzing  together,  was  a 


spectacle  quite  sufficient  tc  make  the  beholders  what,  it  is  said,  the 
princess  herself  would  have  called,  "  all  over  shock."  Then  she 
insisted  on  undue  homage  fmm  her  attendants,  and  made  such  con- 
fusion in  the  geographical  programme  of  her  travels,  "  that  it  was 
enough,"  as  she  herself  used  to  say  on  other  occasions,  *'  to  die  for 
laugh." 

On  the  progress  of  the  princess  through  Italy,  her  English  at- 
tendants fell  off,  one  by  one,  till  she  was  finally  left  without  a  sin- 
gle member  of  her  suite  with  whom  she  had  originally  set  out. 
They  probably  ventured  to  give  her  some  good  advice,  for  she 
complained  of  their  tyranny.  They  certainly  counselled  her  to  re- 
turn and  live  quietly  in  England ;  but  this  counsel  was  always 
under  consideration,  yet  never  followed  by  the  result  desired. 
She  was  rendered  peevish,  too,  by  receiving  no  letters  from  her 
daughter,  of  whom  she  had  taken  but  brief  and  hurried  leave  pre- 
vious to  her  departure  from  England. 

Meanwhile,  she  traversed  Italy  from  Milan  to  Naples,  and  was 
everywhere  received  with  the  greatest  possible  distinction.  In 
the  little  states,  the  minor  potentates  did  their  poor,  but  hearty, 
best  to  exhibit  their  sympathy.  The  crownless  sovereigns,  like 
those  of  Spain  and  Etruria,  condoled  with  her.  At  Rome,  the 
very  head  of  the  faithful  stooped  to  imprint  a  kiss,  or  whisper 
a  word  of  welcome  to  the  wandering  lady.  After  a  week  of  lion- 
izing at  Rome,  she  proceeded  to  Naples,  where  Murat  received 
her  with  the  splendor  and  ostentation  which  marked  all  his  acts. 
He  had  a  guest  who  was  quite  as  demonstrative  as  her  host. 
Court  and  visitor  seemed  to  vie  with  each  other  in  extravagance 
of  display.  Fetes  and  festivals  succeeded  each  other  with  con- 
fusing rapidity,  and  never  had  ParthenoiKi  seen  a  lady  so  given  to 
gaiety,  or  so  closely  surrounded  by  spies,  so  narrowly  watched,  and 
so  abundantly  reported,  as  this  indiscreet  princess.  It  was  at 
Naples  that  she  appeared  at  a  masked  ball,  attired  as  the  Genius 
of  History,  and  accompanied,  it  is  said,  by  Bergami.  She  changed 
her  dress  as  often  as  ^Ir.  Ducrow  in  one  of  his  "  daring  acts ;"  and, 
finally,  she  enacted  a  sort  of  pose  plastiqiie,  and  crowned  the  bust 
of  Joachim  Murat  with  laurel. 

It  seemed  as  if  she  wished  to  bury  memory  of  the  past,  mid  to 


I 


n 


S02 


LIVES  OF  THE    QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


I      f^ 


destroy  the  hopes  of  the  future,  in  the  dissipation  of  the  present. 
To  say  least  of  her  cond  ict,  her  imprudence  and  indiscretion  were 
great  and  gross  enough  to  liave  destroyed  and  rei)utation ;  and  yet 
the  herself  described  her  course  of  life  as  sedentary,  when  she 
often  retired  to  bed  "  dead  beat "  with  fatigue  from  sight-seeing 
by  day  and  vigorous  dancing  by  night.  It  was  here  that°she  made 
the  longest  sojourn,  and  enjoyed  herself,  as  she  understood  enjoy- 
ment, the  most.  The  purchase  of  the  villa  on  the  Lidce  of  Como 
was  also  now  effected  ;  and  Bergami  was  soon  after  raised  to  the 
dignity  of  chamberlain,  and  to  the  privilege  of  a  seat  at  her  own 
table.  She  claimed  a  right  to  bestow  honors,  and  to  distinguish 
those  on  whom  she  bestowed  them  ;  but  her  want  of  judgment 
in  both  regards  amounted  to  almost  a  want  of  intellect,  or  a°want 
of  respect  for  herself,  or  for  the  opinions  of  those  whose  good 
opinion  was  worth  having. 

At  one  of  her  festivals  at  Como,  she  indulged  in   some  free- 
doms with  a  guest  whom  she  strongly  suspected  of  being  a   spy 
upon    her.      Her   conversation  was  of  a   light  and  thoughtless 
nature,  well  calculated  to  give  him  abundance  of  matter^to  be 
conveyed   to    the   ears   of    his   employers.       A   friend    present 
suggested  to  her  that  caution,  on  her  part,  was  not  unnecessary, 
as  within  a  fornight,  everything  she  said  or   did  was  known  at 
Carlton  House.     "I  know  it,"  was  her  reply,  "and  therefore  do 
I  speak  and  act  as  you  hear  and  see.     The  wasp  leaves  his  sting 
in  the  wound,  and  so  do  I.     The  regent  will  hear  it?     I  hope  he 
will,  I  love  to  mortify  him."     And  to  satisfy  this  peevish   love, 
she  courted  infamy,  for  even  if  she  did  not  practise  it,  her  self- 
imposed  conduct  made  it  appear  as  if  she  and  mfamy  were  exceed- 
ingly familiar. 

Still  errant,  she  wandered  from  Como  to  Palermo,  visiting 
the  court  there,  and  receiving  a  welcome  which  could  not  have 
been  the  less  hearty  had  she  been  really  of  as  indifferent 
character  as  she  seemed  to  be.  At  this  court,  she  presented 
Bergami,  on  his  appointment  of  chamberlain,  and  shortly  after 
she  proceeded  to  Genoa,  where  she  intended  to  sojourn  for  a 
considerable  time.  She  was  conveyed  thither  in  the  Clorinde 
frigate,  tie  captain  of  which  spoke    to   those  around  him  in  no 


CAROLINE  OF  BRUNSWICK. 


303 


measured  terms  of  her  conduct  and  course  of  life,  particularly 
at  Naples.  She  was  well-lodged  at  Genoa.  The  scene,  and  she 
who  figured  on  it  so  strangely,  are  thus  described  by  the  writer 
of  a  letter  in  the  "  Diary  " : — "  The  Princess  of  Wales's  palace 
composed  of  red  and  white  marble.  Two  large  gardens,  in  the 
dressed  formal  style,  extend  some  way  on  either  side  of  the  wings 
of  the  building,  and  conduct  to  the  principal  entrance  by  a  rising 
terrace  of  grass,  ill-kept,  indeed,  but  which  in  careful  hands  would 
be  beautiful.  The  hall  and  staircase  are  of  fine  dimensions,  al- 
though there  is  no  beauty  in  the  architecture,  which  is  plain  even 
to  heaviness  ;  but  a  look  of  lavish  magnificence  dazzles  the  eyes. 
The  large  apartments,  decorated  with  gilding,  painted  ceilings,  and 
fine,  though  somewhat  faded,  furniture,  have  a  very  royal  appear- 
ance. The  doors  and  windows  open  to  a  beautiful  view  of  the  bay, 
and  the  balmy  air  they  admit,  combines  with  the  scene  around,  to 
captivate  the  senses.  I  should  think  this  palace,  the  climate,  and 
the  customs,  must  suit  the  princess,  if  anything  can  suit  her.  Poor 
woman  !  she  is  ill  at  peace  with  herself;  and  when  that  is  the  case, 
what  can  please  ?'....  Referring  more  directly  to  the 
princess,  the  writer  says : — "  The  princess  received  me  is  one  of 
the  drawing-rooms,  opening  on  the  hanging  terraces,  covered  with 
flowers  in  full  bloom.  Her  royal  highness  received  Lady  Char- 
lotte Campbell  (who  came  in  soon  after  me)  with  open  arms,  and 
evident  pleasure,  and  without  any  flurry.  She  had  no  rouge  on, 
wore  tidy  shoes,  was  grown  rather  thinner,  and  looked  altogether 
uncommonly  well.  The  first  person  who  opened  the  door  to  me, 
was  the  one  whom  it  was  impossible  to  mistake,  hearing  what  is 
reported, — six  feet  high,  a  magnificent  head  of  black  hair,  pale 
complexion,  mustachios  which  reach  from  here  to  London,  Such 
is  the  stork.  But,  of  course,  I  only  appeared  to  take  him  for  an 
under  servant.     The  princess  immediately  took  me  aside,  and  told 


me  all  that  was  true,  and  a  great  deal  that  was  not. 


Her 


royal  highness  said  that  Gell  and  Ci-aven  had  behaved  very  ill  to 
her ;  and  I  am  tempted  to  believe  that  they  did  not  behave  well, 
but  then  how  did  she  behave  towards  them  ?  ....  It  made 
me  tremble  to  think  what  .anger  would  induce  a  woman  to  do, 
when  she  abused  three  of  her  best  friends,  for  their  cavalier  man- 


304 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


ner  of  treating  her ^  Well,  when  I  left  Naples,  you 

see,  my  dear,'  continued  the  princess,  *  those  gentlemen  refused  to 
go  with  me,  unless  I  returned  immediately  to  England.  They 
supposed  I  should  be  so  miserable  without  them,  that  I  would  do 
anything  they  desired  me,  and  when  they  found  I  was  too  glad  to 
get  rid  of 'em,  (as  she  called  it),  they  wrote  the  most  humble  let- 
ters, and  thought  I  would  take  them  back  again,  whereas  they  were 
very  much  mistaken.     I  had  got  rid  of  them,  and  I  would  remain 


CAROLINE   OF  BRUNSWICK. 


805 


SO. 


>  » 


The  princess  appears  to  have  corresponded  with  Murat.  The 
soldier-king  is  said  to  have  addressed  to  her  a  very  flattering  note, 
beginning,  "  Madame,  ma  chere,  chere  soeur,"  as  if  she  had  al- 
ready been  a  queen,  and  that  he  were  treating  with  her  on  a  foot- 
ing of  equality.  Her  reply  is  described  as  clever,  but  flippant, 
beneath  her  dignity ;  and  so  wild  and  strange,  as  to  be  entitled  to 
be  considered  one  of  the  most  extraordinary  specimens  of  royal 
letter  writing  that  had  ever  been  seen. 

There  was  yet  no  inconsiderable  number  of  English  guests  who 
gathered  round  the  table  of  the  princess,  and  som^e  of  the  former 
ladies  of  her  suite  here  rejoined  her.  Among  the  guests  is  no- 
ticed a  "  Lord  B ,"  who  had  been  a  great  favorite  with  the 

Prince  of  Wales,  and  was  equally  esteemed  by  the  princess.  He 
had  been  a  witness  of  the  marriage  of  Mrs.  Fitzherbert  witli  the 
prince,  and  was  now  the  most  welcome  visitor  of  the  princess. 
The  illustrious  pair,  it  has  been  often  observed,  had  "  a  strange 
sympathy  in  their  loves  and  habits."  Alluding  to  the  style  of  the 
princess's  conversation    with  her  guests,  the  "  Diary"  affords  us 

another  illustration  .     «  Sometimes  Monsieur opened  his  eyes 

wide  at  the  princess's  declarations,  and  her  royal  highness  enjoys 
making  people  stare,  so  she  gave  free  vent  to  her  tongue,  and  said 
a  number  of  odd  things,  some  of  whicli  she  thinks,  and  some  she 
does  not;  but  it  amuses  her  to  astonish  an  innonent-minded  being, 
and  really  such  did  this  old  man  ai)pear  to  be.  He  won  her  heart, 
upon  the  whole,  however,  by  paying  a  compliment  to  her  fine  arm,' 
and  asking  for  her  glove.  Obtaining  it,  he  placed  it  next  his 
heart ;  and,  declaring  it  should  be  found  in  his  tomb,  he  swore  he 
was  of  the  old  school  in  all  things."     The  little  vanity  of  bein«T 


proud  of  a  fine  arm  was  one  as  strong  in  Queen  Charlotte  as  in 
her  daughter-in-law.  The  former  had  as  fine  an  arm  as,  and  per- 
haps not  a  better  temper  than,  the  latter,  but  she  could  better 
control  that  temper ;  and  had  the  additional  advantage  of  being 
possessed  of  a  nioixj  refined  taste.  This  was  not,  perhaps,  always 
shown  when  she  sat  and  listened  to  rather  loose  talk  from  the  re- 
gent, with  no  more  of  reproof  than  her  gently  uttered  "  George, 
George  !'*  by  way  of  remonstrances  She,  however,  never  erred 
so  gi'ossly  as  the  Princess  of  Wales,  who  not  only  would  listen  un- 
abashed to  converse  coarse  in  character,  but  was  not  at  all  nice 
herself  in  either  story  or  epitliet.  In  Italy  such  things  were  then 
accounted  of  but  as  being  small  foibles;  and  when  the  pope  visited 
her  at  Genoa,  he  probably  thought  none  the  worse  of  her,  nor  ba- 
ted no  jot  in  his  courtesy  towards  her,  because  of  her  reputation  m 
this  respect.  She  certainly  loved  to  mystify  people,  and  took  an 
almost  insane  pleasure  in  exciting  converse  against  herself.  Her 
adoption  of  Victorine,  a  daughter  of  Bergami,  was  a  proof  that  she 
had  acquired  no  profitable  experience  from  the  consequences  which 
followed  her  adoption  of  young  Austin. 

During  1815,  the  princess  was  ever  restless  and  on  the  move. 
She  was  now  entirely  surrounded  by  Italians.  Mr.  St.  Leger  re- 
fused to  be  of  her  household,  nor  would  he  allow  his  daughter  to 
be  of  it.  Many  others  were  applied  to,  but  with  similar  success. 
Sir  Humphry  and  Lady  Davy  also  declined  the  honor  offered 
them.  Mr.  AVilliam  Ilose,  Mr.  Davenport,  and  Mr.  Hartup, 
pleaded  other  engagements.  Dr.  Holland,  Mr.  North,  and  Mrs.' 
Falconet  were  no  longer  with  her.  Lord  ^lalpas  begged  to  be 
excused,  and  Lady  Charlotte  Campbell  withdrew,  after  her  royal 
highness's  second  arrival  at  Milan.  The  princess,  however,  had 
no  difficulty  in  forming  an  Italian  court.  Some  of  her  appoint- 
ments were  unexceptionable.  Such  were  those  of  Dr.  Machetti, 
her  physician,  and  of  the  Chevalier  Chiavini,  her  first  equerry. 
Many  of  the  Italian  nobility  now  took  the  place  of  former  English 
visitors  at  her  ^  court  ;"5and  two  of  the  brothers  of  Bergami  held 
respectable  offices  in  her  household,  while  the  Countess  of  Oldi, 
sister  of  the  chamberlain,  was  appointed  sole  lady  of  honor  to  the 
lady,  her  mistress.     On  several  of  the  excursions  made  by  her    . 


M 


306 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


royal  highness  from  her  villa  on  the  lake  of  Como  to  Milan,  Ven- 
ice, and  other  parts  of  Italy,  she  wa.s  aeeompanied  by  Mr.  Hurrell, 
a  son  of  Lord  Gwydyr.     This  gentleman  ultimately  fook  his  leave 
of  her  in  August,  to  i-etum  to  Kngland.     lie   was  sojourning  at 
Brussels  on  his  way,  when  his  servant.  White,  narnited  to  his^fel- 
lows,  some  accounts  of  what  he  described  as  the  very  loose  way  of 
life  of  the  princess  at  Milan.     These  stories,  all  infamous  but  few, 
perhaps,  which  could   not  be  traced  back  to  be  founded  on  some 
indiscretion  of  this  most  unhappy  lady,  and  marvellously  amplified 
and  exaggerated,  came  to  the  ears  of  the   Duke  juid  Duchess  of 
Cumberland,  then  sojourning  at  the  same  hotel;  and  it  is  declared, 
that  on  the  report  made  by  the  fomier  to  his  brother,  the  regent^ 
was  founded  the  famous  "  Milan  C<mimission,"— which  wasoire  of 
investigation,  apix)inted  to  sit  at  Milan,  to  in(piire  into  the  conduct 
of  the  princess,  and  to  rejwrt  accordino^ly.     The  commissioners  sat 
and  took  evidence  without  making  the  princess  aware  of  the  fact, 
and  to  an  indignant  remonstrance  addressed  to  the  regent,  wherein 
she  demanded  to  know  the  object  of  the  commission,  no  answer 
was  retJimed.     It  was  soon  known,  however,  that  the  report  wjis 
of  a  most  condemnatory'  character,  but  no  proceedings  were  inunc- 
diately  instituted.     Meanwhile,  the  princess  continued  her  roving 
life,  now  on  sea,  now  on  land ;  now  on  Ijoard   the  Uvinth,,,,  and 
sometimes  on  the  backs   of  horses  or  mules.     Her  familiarity  on 
all  these  occasions  with  her  chamberlain  was  offensive  to  persons 
of  strict  ideas  and  good  principles,  and   those  were  precisely  the 
•persons  whose  i)rejudices  she  loved,  jxriiaps  out  of  mere  mischief, 
to  startle.     He  dined  with  her,  at  her  table,  and  she  leant  upon 
his  arm,  in  their  walks. 

Early  in  January,  1816,  she  again  embarked  on  board  the 
Cion'nde,  Captain  Pechell,  with  the  intention  of  proceeding  to  Sy- 
racuse. The  captain,  having  previously  seen  Bergami  occupying 
a  menial  state  alx>ut  her  royal  highness,  declined  to  admit  him  to 
his  table,  at  which  he  entertained  the  princes>,--who  refused  such 
entertainment,  however,  on  the  captain  fn^rsisting  on  the  ejection 
of  the  chamberlain.  The  desired  port  was  reached  only  with  dif- 
ficulty, and  fbr  some  months  the  princess  resided  in  Sicily,  with  no 
one  near  her  but  this  Italian  hous<hold.     To  her  chaml)eHain  she 


CAROLINE   OF  BRUNSWICK. 


807 


certainly  was  some  such  a  mistress,  as  Queen  Guinever  to  Sir 
Launcelot.  In  liberality  of  sunny  smiles  and  largesses,  there  can 
be  no  doubt  of  this ;  and  perhaps  the  quality  of  her  favor  is  best 
illustrated  by  the  fjict  of  her  having  bestowed  her  picture  upon 
him,  for  which  she  had  sat  in  the  character  of  a  "  Magdalen."  She 
professed  to  have  procured  for  him  also  his  elevation,  to  be  a 
Knight  of  Malta,  and  she  did  obtain  for  him  the  dignity  of  Baron 
de  la  Francino,  to  heighten  the  imaginary  grandeur. 

The  next  seven  months  were  spent  in  continual  travelling  and 
change  of  scene.  The  limit  of  her  wandering  was  Jericho,  whither 
she  went  actually,  and  also  in  the  popular  sense  of  the  word,  which 
describes  a  person  as  having  gone  thither,  when  ruin  has  overtaken 
him  on  his  jouniey  through  life. 

She  embarked,  with  her  Italian  followers,  on  the  2Cth  of  March, 
and  nine  days  subsequently,  after  being  beaten  about  by  equinoc- 
tial storms  till  the  little  Rmjai  Charlotte  had  scarcely  a  sound  ])lank 
about  her,  she  reached  Tunis,  and  struck  up  a  very  warm  acquain- 
tance with  the  Bey.  He  lodged  and  partially  fed  her,  introduced 
her  to  his  seraglio,  perfumed  her  with  incense  till  she  was  nearly 
suffocated,  and  then  as  nearly  choked  her  with  laughter  by  causing 
to  [day  Ixifore  her  his  famous  female  band,  consisting  of  six  women 
who  knew  nothing  of  music,  every  one  of  whom  labored  under 
some  unsightly  defect,  and  of  whom  the  youngest  confessed  to  an 
honest  threescore  years.  For  this  entertainment  she  made  a  really 
noble  return,  by  purchasing  the  freedom  of  several  European 
slaves.  A  greater  liberator  than  she,  however,  was  at  hand,  in 
Exmouth  and  his  fleet.  It  was  in  obedience  to  the  advice  of  the 
Admiral,  who  expected  to  have  to  demolish  Tunis,  as  the  Bey 
seemed  disinclined  to  ransom  the  Christian  slaves  he  held  in 
durance,  that  the  princess,  after  a  hasty  glance  at  the  sites  of  Utica 
and  Carthage,  re-embarked,  after  a  month's  sojourn  with  the  most 
splendidly  hospitable  of  barbarians,  and  passing  through  the  salut- 
ing English  fleet,  directed  the  prow  of  her  vessel  to  be  turned  to- 
wards Greece.  She  went  on  her  way  accompanied  by  storms, 
w  hich  prevented  her  from  landing  until,  with  infinite  ditliculty,  she 
reached  the  Pinvus,  early  in  May,  and  [)roceeded  to  Athens,  where 
she  took  up  her  residence  iu  the  house  of  the  gallant  French  con- 


1 


i 
1» 


308 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS   OF  ENGLAND. 


sul.     Since  the  days  of  Aspasia,  Athens  had  seen  no  such  hVely 
times  as  marked  the  period  of  the  residence  there  of  the  princess 
Her  balls  were  brilliant  festivities.     In  return  for  them  she  was* 
permitted  to  witness  the  piously  ecstatic  dmicing  of  the  Der^•ises 
(for  the  city  of  Minerva  was  under  the  Crescent  then),  who  have 
plagiarized  a  maxim  of  St.  Augustine,  only  altering  it  to  suit  their 
purpose,  as  ecstatic  persons  will  do  with  sacred  texts,  and  proclaim- 
mg  orat  qui  saltat.     The  princess  had  some  nerve,  and  was  by  no 
means  a  fastidious  woman,  but  she  saw  here  more  than  she  had 
reckoned  upon,  and  was  glad  to  escape  from  the  exhibition  of  un- 
cleanness  and  ferocity.     Athens,  however,  afforded  more  interest- 
mg  spectacles  than  this ;  she  exhausted  them  all  according  to  the 
guide-books  and  the  cicerones ;  and  she  gratefully  expreLd  her 
pleasure,  by  liberating  three  hundred  captives,  whom  she  found 
anguishing  in  the  debtors'  prison.     The  fame  of  the  deed  travel- 
led as  swiftly  as  if  it  had  been  a  deed  disgraceful  to  the  actor,  and 
at  Corinth  she  was  subse(,uently  entertained  during  two  whole 
days,  with  a  profusion  and  a  gaiety  that  would  have  gladdened  the 
heart  of  Lais,  who  was  herself  so  often  and  so  splendidly  "at 
home     m  this  ancient  city.  ^ 

From  Hellas  to  the  Troad  was  a  natural  sequence.  She  went 
thither,  as  before,  storm-tost,-stood  on  the  plain  where  infidels 
assert  that  Troy  had  never  stood,  and,  leaning  on  the  arm  of  the 
noble  and  bearded  Bergami,  twice  crossed  the  Scamander,  with  a 
smile  perhaps  on  her  lips  at  the  recollection  of  the  -ifts  which  the 
nymphs  of  Troas  used  to  offer  to  the  river-god ;  and,  if  she  knew 
the  legend,  with  a  satisfied  glance  at  her  companion's  lock,  which 
were  as  superb  in  lustre  and  in  curl  as  though  he  had  ba'thed  in 
Aanthus  for  a  month. 

With  the  first  days  of  June  she  was  in  Constantinople,  making 
her  entry  with  JMlle.  Dumont  and  another  lady,  in  the  sprin^less 
cart,  or  carriage,  of  the  country,  dmwn  by  a  pair  of  lusty  bulls 
5>he  resided  in  the  house  belonging  to  the  British  embassy  It 
was  the  last  time,  in  the  course  of  her  travels,  that  she  found  rest 
and  protection  beneath  our  flag.  The  plague,  however,  being  then 
m  the  city,  she  quitted  it  for  a  residence  some  fifteen" miles  distant 
irom  which  she  made  excursions  into  the  Black  Sea,  till  growii.c^ 


CAROLINE   OF  BRUNSWICK. 


309 


weary  of  the  amusement,  she  once  more  embarked  and  spent  a 
week  at  sea,  on  a  frail  boat,  tossed  by  storms  and  watched  by  cor- 
sairs ;  and  at  length  reaching  Scio,  sought  repose,  and  indulged 
in  contemplation,  or  may  be  supposed  to  have  done  so,  in  the  school 
of  Homer. 

By  the  end  of  the  mon#li  she  was  amid  the  ruins  of  Ephesus, 
that  city  which  Lysimachus  would  fain  have  had  called  Arsinoe, 
in  honor  of  his  faithful  and  doubly-loved  wife.  The  princess  may 
have  sighed  to  think  how  much  more  gallant  ancient  heathen  prin- 
ces were  than  their  Christian  successors,  or  have  wished  to  remem- 
ber that  Arsinoe  was  so  little  scrupulous  as  to  marry  the  man  who 
murdered  this  very  Lysimachus  ;  but,  whatever  her  reflections,  here 
she  tarried  for  a  while  in  the  locality  once  sacred  to  the  goddess 
of  chastity.  Beneath  the  ruined  vestibule  of  an  ancient  church 
she  pitched  her  tent.  The  heat  was  great  even  at  night,  the 
en-ant  lady  was  sleepless,  and  the  Baron  di  Francino,  ever  assidu- 
ous, watched  near  his  mistress  till  dawn,  and  performed  all  faithful 
service  required  of  him. 

From  the  locality  once  jealously  guarded  by  the  chaste  Diana, 
she  passed  to  the  spot  where  her  old  Blackheath  friend.  Sir  Sidney 
Smith,  had  gained  imperishable  fame  by  gallantly  vanquishing  a 
foe  ever  bravely  reluctant  to  confess  that  he  had  met  his  conqueror. 
Even  this  place  might  have  interested  the  princess  by  the  associa- 
tion of  ideas  which  it  may  have  furnished  her  as  matter  for  medi- 
tation.  She  did  not,  however,  lose  much  time  in  contrasting  the 
gossiping  Sir  Sidney,  who  made  Montague  House  ring  with  his 
laughter,  with  the  stern  warrior  who  here  turned  back  Napoleon 
from  his  way  toward  India.  She  was  longing  to  find  rest  within 
the  Holy  City,  and  this  she  accomplished  at  last,  but  not  till  many 
an  obstacle,  which  lay  in  her  way,  had  been  surmounted. 

Her  progress  was  suddenly  checked  at  Jaffa.  The  party,  which 
consisted  of  more  than  two  dozen  persons,  had  no  written  permis- 
sion to  pass  on  to  Jerusalem,  and  the  pacha  could  give  his  consent 
only  to  five  of  the  number  to  visit  the  city.  After  some  negotia- 
tions with  the  governor  of  St.  Jean  d'Acre,  the  difficulty  was  re- 
moved, a  large  armed  escort  was  provided,  with  tents,  guides,  and 
other  necessary  appendages.     Surrounded  by  these,  the  princess 


■  k^- 


;i 


H 


m 


SIO 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS    OF  ENGLAND. 


and  her  attendants  had  verj  mucli  the  air  of  a  strolling  party  of 
equestrians  on  a  summer  tour.  They  had  a  worn,  yet  "  rollick- 
ing" look.  There  was  a  loose  air  about  the  men,  and  a  rom])ish 
aspect  about  the  ladies,  while  the  sorry  steeds,  mules,  and  donkies 
on  which  they  were  mounted,  seemed  denizens  of  the  circus  and 
saw-dust,  with  the  sun-bronzed  princess  as  manageress  of  the  con- 
cern. 

The  journey  pas  performed  beneath  one  of  the  very  fiercest  of 
suns,  and   the    travellers,  light   of  heart  as    they  were,  groaned 
beneath   the   hot   infliction  and  the  blisters  raised  by  it.     They 
passed  many  an  interesting  spot  on  the  way,  but  were  too  list- 
less or  weary  to  heed  the  objects  as    they  passed.       Her  royal 
highness  bore  the  perils  and  minor  troubles  of   the  way  better 
than  any  of  her  followers,  but  she  too  became  almost  vanquished 
by  fatigue;  and  when    she    entered  Jerusalem,   on  the  12th   of 
July,  seated  on  an  ass,  Mile.  Dumont   impiously  contrasted  her 
virtues,   sutferings,    equipage    and    person    with    those    of    the 
Saviour ;  and  was   subsequently  the  very  first  who,  with  eac^er 
alacrity,  swore  away  the  reputation  of  her  mistress,  and  heapTn- 
her  mdiscretions  together,  gave  them  the  bearing  of  crimes,  and 
did  her  unblushing  utmost  to  destroy  what  she  had  professed  to 
reverence. 

The  Capuchin  friars  gave  her  royal  highness  a  cordial  reception, 
and  within  their  sacred  precincts  even  allowed  her  and  some  of 
her  French  attendants  to  sleep.    In  return  for  this  knightly,  rather 
than  saintly  courtesy,  she  instituted  an  order  of  chivalrv,  and  after  ' 
looking  about  for  a  saint  by  way  of  godmother  to  the  new  institu- 
tion,  she  fixed  upon  St.  Caroline.     In  vain  was  it  suggest<?d  to  her 
that  there  was  no  such  saint  in  the  Calendar.     She  had  a  precedent 
by  way  of  authorization.     Nai>oleon  had  comi>elled  St.  Roch  to 
make  way  for  St.  Napoleon,  and  why  should  not  Caroline  have 
"  Saint "  prefixed  to  it,  and  shine  as  the  patroness  of  the  new 
order  ?     She  of  course  had  her  way,  created  poor  young  Austin  a 
knight,  and  solemnly  instituted  Baron  Bergarai  as  grand  master 
They  looked  more   like  strolling  players  than  ever ;  the   baron 
none  the  less  so  when  his  royal  mistress  placed  on  his  breast  the 


m 


CAROLINE   OF   BRUNSWICK.  311 

insignia  of  the  order  of  -  St.  Sepulchre  "  by  the  side  of  the  star 
of  the  newly  appointed  St.  Caroline. 

With  these  new  dignitaries  the  party  proceeded  to  view  all  the 
sjKits  where  there  is  nothing  to  be  seen,  but  where  much  that  is  false 
may  be  heard,  if  the  guides  be  listened  to.  For  miles  round  there 
was  not  a  scene  that  had  been  the  stage  of  some  gi-eat  event,  or 
was  hallowed  by  the  memory  of  some  solemn  deed  or  saintly  man, 
that  the  princess  did  not  visit.  Having  spent  upon  them  all  thj 
euiotion  she  had  on  hand,  she  trotted  off  to  Jericho,  her  pantin- 
attendants  following  her,  and  having  found  the  place  uninhabr. 
table  from  the  fierce  heat  which  prevailed  there,  the  strollin- 
l)nncess  and  her  fellow-players  rushed  back  to  the  sea,  and" 
scarcely  pausing  at  Jafih,  embarked  hurriedly  on  board  the' 
polacca  there  awaiting  them,  and  set  sail  in  hopes  of  speedily 
encountering  refreshing  gales  and  recovering  the  vin^or  they 
had  lost.  ° 

Their  singing  "  Veni  Aura,"  brought  not  the  gale  they  invoked. 
The  sun  ckrted  his  rays  down  upon  them  with  greater  intensity 
than  ever,  and  accordingly  the  princess  raised  a  gay  tent  upon  the 
deck,  beneath  its  folds  sat  by  day,  took  all  needful  refreshment, 
and  slept  by  night ;  the  Grand  Master  of  the  Order  of  St  Caro- 
line fulfilling  during  that  time  the  office  of  chamberiain. 

The  weary  and  feverish  hours  were  further  enlivened  by  a  grand 
festival  held  on  board,  on  St.  Bartholomew's  day,  in  honor  of 
Bartholomew  Bergami  and  the  saint  of  the  former  name,  who  was 
supposed  to  be  the  patron  and  protector  of  all  who  bore  it.  The 
princess  drank  to  the  baron,  and  the  latter  drank  to  the  princess, 
and  mirth  and  good  humor,  not  to  say  jollity,  abounded,  and  perhaps 
by  the  time  the  incident  is  as  old  as  the  descent  of  the  Nile  by  Cleo- 
patra is  now,  it  may  appear  as  picturesque  and  poetical  as  that 
does.  It  certainly  lacks  the  picturesque  and  poetical  elements  at 
present. 

It  is  the  maxim  of  sailors,  that  they  who  whistle  for  a  breath  of 
air  will  bring  a  storm.  Our  travellers  only  longed  for  the  former, 
but  they  were  soon  enveloped  by  the  latter,  through  which  they 
contnved  to  struggle  till,  on  the  20th  of  September,  they  made 
Syracuse,  and  were  inexorably  condemned  to  a  quarantine  of  the 


■ 


8 


312 


LIVES   OF  THE   QUEENS  OF   ENGLAND. 


legitimate  forty  days'  duration.  At  the  end  of  this  time,  an 
Austrian  vessel  conveyed  them  to  Rome ;  after  a  brief  but  by  no 
means  a  dull  sojourn  in  that  city,  the  princess  led  the  way  to  her 
home  in  the  Villa  d'Este,  on  the  lake  of  Como,  where  she  and  the 
Countess  Oldi  exhibited  the  proficiency  they  had  acquired  as 
travellers,  by  cooking  their  own  dinners,  and  performing  other 
little  feats  of  amiable  independency. 

And  now,  as  if  to  authorize  the  simile  made  with  respect  to  the 
illustrious  party,  and  their  resemblance  to  a  strolling  company  of 
players,  private  theatricals  became  the  most  frequent  pastime  of 
the  lady  of  the  villa  and  her  friends.  If  she  enacted  the  heroine, 
the  baron  was  sure  to  be  the  lover.  Marie  Antoinette,  it  was  said, 
used  to  act  in  plays  on  the  little  stage  at  Trianon.  The  case  was 
not  to  be  denied,  but  then  the  wife  of  Louis  XVI.  did  not  ex- 
change mock  heroics  with  an  ex-courier.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
dukes  and  counts  she  played  with  were  often  less  respectable  than 
the  loosest  of  menials. 

The  agents,  whose  employers  were  to  be  found  in  England,  had 
not  been  idle  during  the  princess's  period  of  travel.  They  had  been 
helped  by  none  so  effectually  as  by  herself.  She  had  courted  in- 
famy by  her  heedless  conduct,  and,  cruelly  as  she  was  used,  the 
blame  does  not  rest  wholly  with  her  persecutors.  Her  indiscre- 
tions seemed  indulged  in  expressly  to  give  warrant  for  suspicion 
that  she  was  more  than  indiscreet,  and  therewith  even  the  most  inno- 
cents incidents  were  twisted  by  the  ingenuity  of  spies  and  their 
agents,  into  crimes.  The  Baron  D'Omptechi  had  been  the  most 
assiduous  and  the  best  paid  of  the  spies  who  hovered  incessantly 
about  her,  to  misrepresent  all  he  was  permitted  to  see.  lie  was 
banished  from  the  Austrian  territory  at  the  request  of  the  prin- 
cess, whose  champion,  the  gallant  Lieutenant  Hownam,  sought  in 
vain  to  bring  him  to  battle,  and  punish  him  for  his  treachery 
towards  a  lady.  On  the  other  hand,  the  Austrian  authorities 
commanded  Bergami  to  divest  himself  of  the  Cross  of  Zklalta, 
which  he  was  wearing  without  legal  authorization— a  disgrace 
which  his  rash  and  imprudent  mistress  thought  she  had  effaced  by 
purchasing  for  the  disknighted  chevalier  an  estate,  and  putting 


CAROLINE  OF  BRCNSWICK. 


313 


him  in  full  possession  of  the  rights  and  dignity  of  lord  of  the 
manor. 

Early  in  1817,  the  princess  repaired  to  Carlsruhe,  on  a  visit  to 
the  Grand  Duke  of  Baden.  She  was  received  courteously,  but  not 
warmly  enough  to  induce  her  to  make  a  long  sojourn.  Her  next 
point  was  Vienna,  from  which  city  she  had  frightened  Lord  Stew- 
art, the  British  ambassador,  by  an  intimation  that  she  was  coming 
to  take  up  her  residence  with  him,  and  to  demand  satisfaction  for 
the  insults  to  which  she  had  been  subjected  by  persons  who  were 
spies  upon  her  conduct.  She  experienced  nothing  but  what  she 
might  have  expected  in  Vienna — a  contemptuous  neglect ;  and 
soon  quitting  that  city,  she  repaired  to  Trieste,  and  tarried  long 
enough  there  to  compel  the  least  scrupulous  to  think  that,  if  she 
possessed  the  most  handsome  of  chamberlains,  she  was  herself  the 
weakest  and  least  wise  of  ladies.  lie  was  now  her  constant  and 
almost  only  attendant  in  public.  English  families  had  long  ceased 
to  show  her  any  respect.  They  could  not  manifest  it  for  a  woman 
who,  by  courting  an  evil  reputation,  evidently  did  not  respect  her- 
self. "What  was  her  being  innocent  if  she  ever  so  acted  as  to  make 
herself  appear  guilty?  She  might  as  well  have  asserted  that  her 
bpenly  attending  mass  with  Bergami,  was  not  to  be  taken  as  proof 
of  her  being  a  very  indifferent  Protestant. 

She  became  in  every  sense  of  the  word  a  mere  wanderer,  appar- 
ently without  object,  save  flying  from  the  memories  which  she 
could  not  cast  off.  She  was  constantly  changing  her  residence,  so 
constantly  as  to  make  her  career  somewhat  difficult  to  follow ;  but 
we  know  that  she  was  residing  at  Pescaro  when  she  received  in- 
telligence which  she  least  expected,  and  which  deeply  affected  her. 
During  her  absence  from  England,  her  daughter  had  married 
Prince  Leoi>old,  and  the  mother  had  hoped  to  find  friends  at  least 
in  this  pair,  if  not  now,  at  some  future  period.  But  now  she  liad 
heard  that  her  child  and  her  child's  child  were  dead.  "  I  have  not 
only,"  she  wrote  to  a  friend  in  England,  *'  to  lament  an  ever-beloved 
child,  but  one  most  warmly  attached  friend,  and  the  only  one  I 
have  had  in  England ;  but  she  is  only  gone  before — I  have  not 
lost  her,  and  I  now  titist  we  shall  soon  meet  in  a  much  bet- 

VoL.  II.— 14 


814 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


ter  world  than  the  present   one.     For  ever  your   truly  sincere 
friend,  C.  P." 

This  calamity,  however,  had  no  effect  in  rendering  the  writer 
more  circumspect.  Her  course  of  life,  without  perhaps  being  one 
of  the  gross  guilt  it  was  described  as  being,  was  certainly  one  not 
creditable  to  her.  Exaggerated  reports,  which  grew  as  they  were 
circulated,  startled  the  ears  of  her  friends  and  gladdened  the  hearts 
of  her  enemies.  They  were  at  their  very  worst,  when,  in  1820, 
George  the  Ilird  ended  his  long  reign,  and  Caroline,  Princess  of 
Wales,  beciuiie  Queen  Consort  of  England. 


CHAPTER  VIIL 


THE    RETURN    TO    ENGLAND. 


The  report  rendered  by  the  gentlemen  who  formed  the  Milan 
Commission  to  inquire  secretly  into  the  conduct  of  tlie  Princess 
of  Wales,  was  so  unfiivorable  to  the  latter,  that  the  regent  would 
have  taken  immediate  steps  to  have  procured  a  divorce,  but  for  the 
assurance^ of  his  legal  advisers  that  even  in  the  case  of  the  prince.^s 
becoming  queen  consort,  she  would  never  return  to  this  country, 
provided  only  that  the  income  assigned  to  her  by  parliament  :i3 
Princess  of  Wale?,  were  secured  to  her  after  she  was  queen. 
There  had  been  some  negotiation  to  this  effect  in  1819,  when  it 
was  understood  that  the  title  of  queen  would  never  be  assumed  by 
the  princess  if  the  payment  of  the  annuity  was  punctually  observed. 
Her  most  intimate  friends,  therefore,  did  not  reckon  upon  her 
appearance  in  this  country,  after  the  accession  of  her  husband  to 
the  throne. 

Lord  Liverpool  addressed  a  letter  to  Mr.  Brougham  adverting 
to  this  arrangement,  as  having  been  originally  proposed  by  Queen 
Caroline,  a  conclusion  against  which  she  protested  wiiLi  great 
indignation.  Her  first  step  was  to  pass  through  France  to  St, 
Omar,  where  she  awaited  the  arrival  of  her  legal  advisers.     The 


CAROLINE   OF  BRUNSWICK. 


315 


then  reigning  French  monarch  had  in  the  time  of  his  own  adver- 
sity received  substantial  aid  and  continual  courtesy  from  the  queen's 
father ;  but  now  in  the  hour  of  the  distresses  of  his  former  bene- 
factor's daughter,  he  beset  her  passage  through  France  with  diffi- 
culties, and  commanded  her  to  be  treated  with  studied  nejrlect. 
However  mortified,  she  was  a  woman  of  too  much  spirit  to  allow 
her  mortification  to  be  visible,  and  for  the  lack  of  official  honors 
she  found  consolation  in  the  sympathy  of  the  people. 

At  the  inn  at  St.  Omer  she  was  met  by  JMr.  Brougham  and 
Lord  Hutchinson.  The  latter  came  as  the  representative  of  the 
ministry,  with  no  credentials,  however,  nor  even  with  the  minis- 
terial proposition  reduced  to  writing.  The  queen  refused  to 
receive  it  in  any  other  form.  Lord  Hutchinson  obeyed,  and  made 
a  written  proposal  to  the  effect  that  as  she  wiis  now  without  income 
by  the  demise  of  George  IH.,  the  king  would  grant  her  50,000/. 
per  annum,  on  the  special  condition  that  she  remained  on  the  con- 
tinent, surrendered  the  title  of  queen,  adopted  no  title  belonging  to 
the  royal  fiimily  of  England,  and  never  even  visited  the  latter 
country  under  any  pretext.  It  was  further  stated,  that  if  she  set 
foot  in  England,  the  negotiation  would  be  at  an  end,  the  terms 
violated,  and  proceedings  be  commenced  against  her  majesty 
forthwith. 

It  has  been  said  that  the  queen's  immediate  and  decided  rejec- 
tion of  these  proposals,  and  her  resolution  to  proceed  to  England 
at  once,  were  undoubted  proofs  of  her  innocence.  The  truth,  how- 
ever, is,  that  the  acceptance  of  such  terms  would  have  been  a  tacit 
confession  of  her  guilt,  and  had  she  been  as  criminal  as  her  accus- 
ers endeavored  to  prove  her,  her  safest  course  would  have  been 
that  which  she  so  spiritedly  adopted.  The  infamy,  here,  was  un- 
doubtedly on  the  part  of  the  ministry.  Here  was  a  woman  in 
whom  they  asserted  was  to  be  found  the  most  profligate  of  her  sex, 
and  to  her  they  made  an  offer  of  50,000/.  per  annum,  on  condition 
that  she  laid  down  the  title  of  Queen  of  England,  of  which  they 
said  she  was  entirely  unworthy ;  and  this  sum  was  to  be  paid  to 
her  out  of  the  taxes  of  a  people,  the  majority  of  whom  believed 
that  she  had  been  "more  sinned  against  than  sinning." 

It  has  been  believed,  or  at  least  has  been  reported,  that  the 


i. 


316 


LIVES   OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


queen  was  counselled  to  the  refusal  of  the  compromist  annuity  of 
50,000/.  by  Alderman  Wood.  The  city  dignitary,  in  such  case, 
got  little  thanks  for  his  advice  at  the  hands  of  Baron  Bergami. 
The  latter  individual,  on  Iiearing  that  Queen  Caroline  had  declined 
to  accept  the  offer,  and  that  the  alderman  was  her  adviser  on  the 
occasion,  declared  that  if  he  ever  encountered  the  ex-mayor,  in 
Italy,  he  would  kill  him.  The  courier-baron's  ground  of  offence 
was,  that  had  the  queen  received  the  money,  a  great  portion  of  it 
would  have  fallen  to  his  share,  and  that  he  considered  himself  as 
robbed  by  the  alderman,  whom  he  would  punish  accordingly.  But 
this  by  the  way. 

Caroline  refused  the  proposjds,  with  scorn,  and  fearful  of  further 
obstacle  on  the  part  of  the  French  government,  she  proceeded  at 
once  to  Calais,  dismissed  her  Italian  court,  and  with  Alderman 
Wood  and  Lady  Anne  Hamilton,  she  went  on  board  the  Leopold 
sailing  packet,  then  lying  in  the  mud  in  the  harbor.  No  facilities 
were  afforded  her  by  the  authorities ;  the  English  inhabitants  of 
Calais  were  even  menaced  with  penalties  if  they  infringed  the 
orders  which  had  been  given,  and  no  compliment  was  paid  her, 
except  by  the  master  of  the  packet,  who  hoisted  the  royal  standard 
as  soon  as  her  majesty  set  foot  upon  the  humble  deck  of  his  little 
vessel.  She  sat  there  as  evening  closed  in,  without  an  attendant, 
saving  the  lady  already  named,  and  the  alderman,  who  not  only 
gave  her  his  escort  now  but  offered  her  a  home.  She  had  solicited 
from  the  government  that  a  house  might  be  provided  for  her,  but 
the  application  had  been  received  with  silent  contempt. 

Her  progress  from  Dover  to  London  was  a  perfect  ovation. 
The  people  saw  in  her  a  victim  of  persecution,  and  for  such  there 
is  generally  a  ready  sympathy.  They  were  convinced,  too,  that 
she  was  a  woman  of  spirit,  and  for  such  there  is  ever  abundant 
achniration.  There  was  not  a  town  through  which  she  passed 
upon  her  way,  that  did  not  give  her  a  hearty  welcome,  and  wish 
her  well  through  the  fiery  ordeal  which  awaited  her.  She  reached 
London  in  the  evening  of  the  7th  of  June,  1820,  and  the  popular 
procession,  of  which  she  was  the  chief  i>ortion,  passed  Carlton 
House,  on  its  route,  to  the  residence  of  Alderman  Wood,  in  South 
Audley-street.     She  had  scarcely  found  refuge  beneath  this  hos- 


CAROLINE   OF  BRUNSWICK. 


817 


pltable  roof,  when  Lord  Liverpool,  in  the  House  of  Peers,  and 
L  jrd  Castlereagh,  in  the  House  of  Commons,  conveyed  a  message 
from  the  king  to  the  parliament,  the  subject  of  which  was,  that 
her  majesty  having  thought  proper  to  come  to  this  country,  some 
information  would  be  laid  before  them  on  which  they  would  have 
to  come  to  an  ulterior  decision,  of  vast  importance  to  the  peace 
and  well-being  of  the  United  Kingdom.  Each  minister  bore  a 
*•  green  bag,"  which  was  supposed,  and  perhaps  did  contain 
minutes  of  the  report  made  by  the  Milan  commissioners  touching 
her  majesty's  conduct  abroad.  The  ministerial  communications 
were  made  in  the  spirit  and  tone  of  men  who,  if  not  ashamed  of 
the  message  which  they  bore,  were  very  uncertain,  and  infinitely 
afraid  as  to  its  ultimate  consequences. 

Not  that  they  were  wanting  in  an  outward  show  of  boldness. 
The  soldiers  quartered  at  the  King's  Mews,  Charing  Cross,  had 
been  so  disorderly  some  days  previous,  allegedly  because  they  had 
not  sufficient  accommodation,  that  they  were  drafted  in  two  divi- 
sions to  Portsmouth.  AVlien  the  queen  was  approaching  London, 
a  mob  assembled  in  front  of  the  guard-house,  and  called  upon  the 
soldiers  still  remaining  there  to  join  them  in  a  demonstration  in 
favor  of  the  queen.  Lord  Sidmouth,  w'ho  was  passing  on  his  way 
to  the  House  of  Lords,  seeing  what  was  going  on,  proceeded  to 
the  Horse  Guards,  called  out  the  troops  there,  and  stood  by  while 
they  roughly  dispersed  the  people.  It  was  called  putting  a  bold 
face  upon  the  matter,  but  less  provocation  on  the  part  of  a  govern- 
ment has  been  followed  by  revolution. 

A  desire  to  compromise  the  unhappy  dispute  was  no  doubt  sin- 
cerely entertained  by  ministers,  and  all  hope  was  not  abandoned 
even  after  the  arrival  of  the  queen.  Mr.  Rush,  the  United  States* 
ambassador  to  England  at  this  period,  permits  us  to  see,  in  his 
journal,  when  this  attempt  at  compromise  or  amicable  arrange- 
ment of  the  affair  was  first  entered  upon  by  the  respective  parties. 
On  June  15,  that  gentleman  dined  at  Lord  Castlereagh's  with  all 
the  foreign  ambassadors.  "A  very  few  minutes,"  he  says,  "after 
the  last  course,  Lord  Castlereagh,  looking  to  his  chief  guest  for 
acquiescence,  made  the  signal  for  rising,  and  the  company  all  went 
to  the  drawing-room.     So  early  a  move  was  unusual :  it  seemed 


\ii 


IR: 


318 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


to  cut  short,  unexpectedly,  the  time  generally  given  to  conver- 
sation at  English  dinners   after  the   dinner  ends.     It  was   soon 
observed  that  his  lordship  had  left  the  drawing-room.     This  was 
still  more  unusual;  and  now  it  came  to  be   whispered  that  an 
extraordinary  cause  had  produced  this   unusual  scene.     It  was 
whispered  by  one  and  another  of  the  corps  that  his  lordship  had 
retired  into- one  of  his  own  apartments  to  meet  the  Duke  of  Welling- 
ton as  his  colleague  in  the  administration,  and  also  Mr.  Brougham 
and  3Ir.  Denman,  as  counsel  for  the  queen  in  the  disputes  pend- 
ing between  the  king  and  queen."     Mr.  Rush,  after  mentioning 
that  the  proceedings  in  parliament  were  arrested  for  the  moment 
by  members  pui-porting  to  be  common  friends  of  both  king  and 
queen,  proceeds  to  state  that  "  the  dinner  at  Lord  Gistlereagh's 
was  during  this  state  of  things,  which  explains  the  incident  arits 
close,  the  disputes  having  pressed  with  anxiety  on  the  king's  min- 
isters.    That  his  lordship  did  separate  himself  from  his  guests  for 
the  purpose  of  holding  a  conference,  in  another  part  of  his  own 
house,  in  which  the  Duke  of  Wellington  joined  him  as  represent- 
ing the  king,  with  Mr.  Brougham  and  :Mr.  Denman  as  represent- 
mg  the  queen,  was  known  from  the  former  protocol,  afterwards 
published,  of  what  took  place  on  that  very  evening.     It  was  the 
first  of  the  conferences  held  with  a  view  to  a  compromise  between 
t\ie  royal  disputants."     On  the  28th  June,  the  American  ambassa- 
dor was  at  the  levee  at  Carlton  House,  where  he  learns  that  "  the 
sensibilities  of  the  king  are  intense,  and  nothing  can  ever  reconcile 
him."     The  same  diplomatist  then  presents  to  us  the  followino- 
graphic  picture :   «  The  day  was  hot,  excessively  so  for  England! 
The  kmg  seemed  to  suffer.     He  remarked  upon  the  heat  t"o  me 
and  others.     It  is  possible  that  other  heat  may  have  ag-ravated 
m  him  that  of  the  weather.    Before  he  came  into  the  ent"r6e  room, 
from  his  closet,  ******  of  the  diplomatic  corps,  taking  me  gently 
by  the  arm,  led  me  a  few  steps  with  him,  which  brought  us  into 
the    recess   of  a  widow— ^  Look  I'  said   he.     I  looked,  and   saw 
nothmg  but  the  velvet  lawn,  covered  by  trees,  in  the  palace  gar- 
dens.    '  Look  again !'  said  he.     I  did ;  and  still  my  eye  only  took 
m  another  part  of  the  same  scene.     '7>^  once   more;  said  he, 
cautiously  raising  a  finger  in  the  right  direction.     ******  had  a 


CAROLINE  OF  BRUNSWICK. 


319 


vein  of  drollery  in  him.  I  now,  for  the  first  time,  beheld  a  pea- 
cock, displaying  his  plumage.  At  one  moment  he  was  in  full 
pride,  and  displayed  it  gloriously ;  at  another,  he  would  halt,  let- 
ting it  drop,  as  if  dejected.  '  Of  what  does  that  remind  you  ?'  said 
♦*****.  *0f  nothing,'  said  I;  ^Boni  soil  qui  mal  y  pense!'  for 
I  threw  the  king's  motto  at  him,  and  then  added,  that  1  was  a 
republican,  he  a  monarchist,  and  that  if  he  dreamt  of  unholy  com- 
parisons where  royalty  was  concerned,  I  would  certainly  tell  upon 
him,  that  it  might  be  rej^orted  at  his  court.  He  quietly  drew  off 
from  me,  smiling,  and  I  afterwards  saw  him  slily  take  another 
member  of  the  corps  to  the  same  spot,  to  show  him  the  same 


sight." 


Meanwhile,  the  contending  parties  in  Parliament  wore  about 
them  the  air  of  men  who  were  called  upon  to  do  battle,  and  who, 
while  rtfsolved  to  accomplish  their  best,  would  have  been  glad  to 
have  effected  a  compromise  which,  at  least,  should  save  the  honor 
of  their  principal.  As  Mr.  Wilberforce  remarked,  there  was  a 
mutual  desire  to  "avoid  that  fatal  green  bag."  There  were  many 
ditliculties  in  tl^  way.  The  queen,  naturally  enough,  insisted  on 
her  name  being  restored  in  the  Liturgy ;  and  none  of  her  friends 
would  have  consented  for  her,  nor  would  she  have  done  so  for  her- 
self, that  she  should  reside  abroad  without  being  introduced  by  the 
British  ambassador  to  the  court  of  the  country  in  which  she  might 
take  up  her  residence.  The  government  manifested  too  clearly 
an  intention  not  to  help  her  in  this  resprct,  for  they  remarked,  that 
though  they  might  request  the  ambassador  to  present,  they  could 
not  compel  the  court  to  receive  her.  They  wanted  her  out  of  the 
way,  bribed  splendidly  to  endure  an  indelible  disgrace.  She  was 
wise  enough,  at  least,  to  perceive  that  to  consent  to  such  a  course 
would  be  to  strip  her  of  every  friend,  and  to  shut  against  her  the 
door  of  every  court  in  Europe. 

Mr.  Wilberforce  hoped  to  act  the  "Mr.  Harmony"  of  the  crisis, 
by  bringing  forwai-d  a  motion  expressive  of  the  regret  of  parlia- 
ment that  the  two  illustrious  adversaries  had  not  been  able  to  com- 
plete an  amicable  arrangement  of  their  difficulties ;  and  declaring 
that  the  queen  would  sacrifice  nothing  of  her  good  name  nor  of  the 
rifrhteousness  of  her  cause,  nor  be  held  as  shrinking  from  inquiry, 


I 


II 


k 


320 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS   OF  ENGLAND. 


by  consenting  to  accept  the  counsel  of  parliament,  and  forbearing 
to  press  further  the  adoption  of  those  propositions  on  which  any 
material  difference  of  opinion  is  yet  remaining.    The  queen's  espe- 
cial advocate,  Mr.  Brougham,  felicitously  contrasted  the  eager  de- 
sire of  ministers  to  get  rid  of  her  majesty  by  sending  her  out  of  the 
country  with  all  the  pomp,  splendor,  and  ceremonies  connected  with 
royalty — with  their  meanness  in  allowing  her  to  come  over  in  a 
common  packet,  and  to  seek  shelter  in  the  house  of  a  private  indi- 
vidual.   He  added  that  the  only  basis  on  which  any  satisfactory  ne- 
gotiation could  be  carried  on  with  her  majesty  was  the  restoration 
of  her  name  to  the  Liturgy.     Mr.  Denman,  in  alluding  to  the  case 
of  Sophia  Dorothea,  which  had  been  cited  by  ministers  as  prece- 
dent wherein  they  found  authority  for  omitting  the  queen's  name 
from  the  Liturgy,  remarked  that  "As  to  the  case  of  the  queen  of 
George  L,  to  which  allusions  had  been  made,  it  was  not  at  all  in 
point.    She  had  been  guilty  of  certain  practices  in  Hanover,  which 
compromised  her  character,  and  was  never  considered  Queen  of 
England.     On  the  continent  she  lived  under  the  designation  of 
Princess  of  Halle,  and  though  the  Prince  of  "Walfp  had  afterwards 
called  her  to  this  country  for  the  purpose  of  embarrassing  the  gov- 
ernment of  his  fatlier,  to  which  he  happened  to  be  opposed,  still 
she  was  never  recognized  in  any  other  character  than  Electress  of 
Hanover."    In  this  statement  it  will  be  seen  that  the  speaker  calls 
her  queen  whom  he  denies  to  have  been  accounted  as  such ;  and 
he  adds,  that  the  Prince  of  Wales  called  her  to  this  country  in  his 
father's  life-time,  when  he  had  no  power  to  do  so.     Whereas  he 
simply  expressed  to  his  friends  his  determination  to  invite  her 
over,  if  she  survived  his  father,  as  queen-dowager  of  England. 
This  invitation  he  never  had  the  power  of  making,  for  his  mother's 
demise  preceded  the  decease  of  his  father.     Mr.  Denman  was  for 
happier  in  his  allusion  to  a  ministerial  assertion  that  the  omission 
of  the  queen's  name  from  the  Liturgy  was  the  act  of  the  king  in 
his  closet.    This  assertion  was  at  once  a  meanness  and  a  falsehood, 
for  as  Mr.  Denman  remarked,  no  one  knew  of  any  such  thing  in 
this  country  as  "  the  king  in  his  closet."     Indeed  the  ministers 
were  peculiarly  unlucky  in  all  they  did,  for  while  they  asserted 
that  the  omission  was  never  made  out  of  disrespect  towards  tho 


CAROLINE   OF  BRUNSWICK. 


321 


queen,  they  acknowledged  that  it  never  would  have  been  thought 
of  but  for  the  revelations  contained  in  the  fatal  green  bag,  as  to 
her  Majesty's  alleged  conduct.  Finally,  the  House  agreed  to  Mr. 
Wilberforce's  motion. 

The  announcement  of  the  resolution  to  which  the  House  of 
Commons  had  come  was  announced  to  her  majesty,  now  residing 
in  Portman  Street,  in  an  address  conveyed  to  her  by  Mr.  Wilber- 
force  and  three  other  members  of  the  lower  house.     On  this  oc- 
casion all  the  forms  of  a  court  were  observed.    The  bearers  of  the 
address  appeared  in  full  court  dress.     The  queen,  in  a  dress  of 
black  satin,  with  a  vTcath  of  laurel  shaded  with  emeralds  around 
her  head,  surmountt  d  by  a  "  plume  of  feathers,"  stood  in  one  por- 
tion of  the  little  drawing-room  ;  behind  her  stood  all  the  ladies  of 
her  household,  in  the  person  of  Lady  Anne  Hamilton,  and  on 
either  side  of  her  Mr.  Brougham  and  Mr.  Denman,  her  majesty's 
attorney  and  solicitor-generals,   in  full  bottomed  wigs  and  silk 
gowns.     As  the  deputation  approached,  the  folding  doors  which 
divided  the  members  in  the  back  drawing-room  from  the  queen 
and  her  court  in  the  front  apartment,  were  then  thrown  open,  and 
the  four  gentlemen  from  the  House  of  Commons,  knelt  on  one 
knee  and  kissed  her  majesty's  hand.     Having  communicated  to 
her  the  resolutions  of  the  House,  the  queen,  through  the  attorney- 
general,  returned  an  answer  of  some  length,  the  substance  of  which, 
however,  was,  that  with  all  her  respect  for  the  House  of  Commons, 
she  could  not  bind  herself  to  be  governed  by  its  counsel  until  she 
knew  the  purport  of  the  advice.    In  short  she  yielded  nothing,  but 
appealed  to  the  nation.     When  the  assembled  crowd  learned  the 
character  of  the  royal  reply,  its  delight  was  intense,  and  certainly 
public  opinion  was,  generally,  in  favor  of  the  queen  and  of  the 
course  now  adopted  by  her.     There  was  one  thing  she  and  the 
public,  too,  supremely  hated,  and  that  was  the  formation  of  a  se- 
cret committee,  formed  principally,  too,  of  ministerial  adherents, 
and  charged  with   prosecuting  the  inquiry  against  her,  without 
lettinor  hJ^  know  who  were  her  accusers,  or  of  what  crimes  she  was 
accused ;  and  without  affording  her  opportunity  to  procure  evidence 
to  rebut  the  testimony  brought  against  her.     Against  such  a  pro- 
ceedin<'  she  drew  up  a  petition,  which  she  requested  the  Lord 

14* 


M 


^*l 


322 


L.TES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


Chancellor  to  present.  That  eminent  official,  however,  asserting 
that  he  meant  no  disrespect,  excused  himself,  on  the  ground  that 
he  did  not  know  how  to  present  such  a  document  to  the  house, 
and  that  there  was  nothing  iii  the  journals  wliich  could  tend  to  en- 
lighten him. 

The  petition,  however,  the  chief  prayer  in  which  was,  that  the 
queen's  counsel  might  be  heard  at  the  bar  of  the  House,  agninst 
an  inquiry  by  secret  committee,  was  presented  by  Lord  Dacre,  and 
the  prayer  in  question  was  agreed  to. 

The  request  of  Mr.  Brougham  was  for  a  delay  of  two  months 
previous  to  the  inquiry  being  further  prosecuted,  in  order  to  leave 
time  for  the  assembling  of  witnesses  for  the  defence — witnesses 
whom  the  queen  was  too  poor  to  purchase,  and  too  powerless  to 
compel  to  repair  to   England.      Her  majesty's  attorney  general 
asked  this  the  more  earnestly  as  some  of  the  witnesses  on  the 
king's  side  were  of  tainted  character ;  and  one  of  them  was  an  ex- 
domestic  of  the  queen's,  discharged  from  her  service  for  robbing 
her  of  four  hundred  napoleons.     The  learned  advocate  concluded 
by  expressing  his  confidence  that  the  delay  of  two  months  would 
not  be  considered  too  great  an  indulgence  for  the  purpose  of  fur- 
thering the  ends  of  justice,  and  providing  that  a  legal  murder 
should  not  be  committed  on  the  character  of  the  first  subject  of  the 
realm.     The  best  point  in  Mr.  Denman's  speech  in  sui»i)ort  of  the 
request  made  by  his  leader,  was  in  the  quotiition  from  a  judgment 
delivered  by  a  fonner  lord  chancellor,  and  which  was  to  this  effect 
— it  was  delivered  with  the  eyes  of  the  speaker  keenly  fixed  on 
those  of  Lord  Eldon  : — "  A  judge  ought  to  prepare  the  way  to  a 
just  sentence,  as  God  useth  to  prepare  his  way,  by  raising  valleys 
and  taking  down  hills,  so  when  there  appeureth  on  either  side,  an 
high  hand,  violent  prosecutions,  cunning  advantages  taken,  com- 
bination, power,  great  counsel,  then  is  the  virtue  of  a  judge  seen 
to  make  inequality  equal,  that  he  may  plant  his  judgment  as  upon 
an  even  ground." 

While  the  Lords  were  deliberating  on  the  roqiiest  for  post- 
ponement. Lord  Castlereagh  was  inveighing  in  the  Commons 
against  the  queen  herself,  for  daring  to  refuse  to  yield  to  the 
wishes  of  parliament,  and  rejecting  the  advice  to  be  guided  by  its 


CAROLINE  OF  BRUNSWICK. 


823 


counsel.     Such  rejection  he  interpreted  as  being  a  sort  of  insult 
which  no  other  member  of  the  House  of  Brunswick  would  have 
ventured  to  commit.  "  That  illustrious  individual,"  he  said,  "  might 
repent  the  step  she  had  taken."     Meanwhile,  the  Commons  sus- 
pended proceedings  till  the  course  to  be  decided  upon  by  the  Lords 
was  finally  taken.     In  the  latter  assembly.  Earl  Grey  made  a  la.>t 
effort  to  stay  the  proceedings  altogether,  by  moving  that  the  order 
for  the  meeting  of  the  secret  committee  to  consider  the  papers  m 
the  "  gi-een  bag  "  should  be  discharged.     The  motion  was  lost,  but 
an  incident  in  the  debate  which  arose  upon  it  deserves  to  be  no- 
ticed.    The  omission  of  the  queen's  name  from  the  Liturgy  had 
been  described  as  the  act  of  the  king  in  his  closet.     Lord  Holland 
now  charged  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  as  the  adviser  of  the 
act  but  Lord  Liverpool  accepted  the  responsibility  of  it  for  him- 
self and  colleagues  as  having  been  adopted  by  the  king  m  conncil, 
at  the  ministerial  suggestion. 

The  Lords  having  resolved  to  commence  proceedings  by  a  pre- 
liminary secret  inquiry,  the  queen  protested  against  such  a  course, 
but  no  reply  was  made  to  her  protest.     With  the  exception  of  ap- 
pearing to  return  answers  to  the  addresses  forwarded  to  her  from 
varioul  parts  of  the  country,  she  withdrew,  as  much  as  possible, 
from  all  publicity.     Her  personal  friends,  however  were  busier 
than  she  required  in  drawing  up  projects  for  her  which  she  cou  d 
not  sanction.     One  of  these  busy  advocates  thought  that  she  might 
fittingly  compromise  the  matter,  by  gaining  the  restoration  of  her 
name  in  the  Liturgy,  being  crowned,  holding  one  drawing-room, 
yearly,  at  Kensington  Talace,  and  having  her  permanent  residence 
at  Hampton  Court,  with  55,000/.  a-year  to  -.iphold  her  dignity. 
The  terms  were  not  illiberal,  but  if  the  queen  rejected  them  it  was, 
probably,  because  she  knew  they  would  never  be  offered.     Her 
own  remark  upon  them  is  said  to  have  been,  that  she  did  not  w^an 
a  victory  without  a  battle,  but  a  victor^^  after  showmg  that  she  had 

deserved  it.  «       ,    .  ^i 

She  was  the  more  eag.^r  for  battle,  from  the  fact  that  the  con- 
tent, of  the  green  bag  were  by  no  means  unknown  to  her  At 
least,  it  has  been  asserted  that  she  had  long  held  duphcates  of 
.ome  of  the  evidence,  if  not  of  the  report  made  by  the  M.Ian  com- 


J 


t 


824 


LIVES   OF   THE   QUEENS   OF   ENGLAND. 


missioners,  and  she  was  satisfied  she  could  rebut  both.  She  pos- 
sessed one,  and  it  was  her  solitary,  advantage  in  this  case.  The 
ministers,  if  not  in  so  many  words,  yet  by  their  proceedings,  had 
stigmatized  her  as  utterly  infamous,  and  yet  they  had  considered 
it  not  beneath  them  to  desire  to  enter  into  negotiations  with  one 
whom  tl.ey  considered  guilty  of  all  the  implied  infamy.  Th.- 
queen's  rejection  of  the  proi)osals  to  compound  tlie  "  stupendous 
felony,"  raised  up  for  her  many  a  friend  in  circles  where  she  had 
been  looked  upon,  if  not  as  guilty,  yet,  at  best,  as  open  to  very 
grave  suspicion. 

It  was,  no  doubt,  the  queen's  own  wish  to  live  in  as  retired  a 
manner   as  possible   while  serious  charges  impended  over   her. 
Her  health,  however,  required  her  not  to  confine  herself  within  the* 
narrow  limits  of  her  residence  in  Portman  Street.    She  accordinHy 
paid  one  public  visit  to  Guildhall,  and  occasionally  repaired^'to 
Blackheath.     It  was  on  her  way  back  from  one  of  these  latter  ex- 
cursions that  she  honored  Alderman  Waithman's  shop  witli  a  visit. 
The  incident  is  perhaps  as  well  worth  noticing  as  that  which  tells 
of  the  trip  made  by  the  young  Queen  Mary  to  the  shop  of  Lady 
Gresham,  the  lady  mayoress,  who  appears  to  have  dealt  in  milli- 
nery.     The  city  progresses  of  the  queen  did  her  infinite  injury 
The  very  lowest  of  the  populace,  who  cared  little  more  for  her, 
than  as  giving  opportunity  for  a  little  excitement,  were  wont  on 
these  occasions  to  take  tlie  horses  from  her  carriage,  harness  them- 
selves to  the  vehicle,  and  literally  drag  the  Queen  of  En-land 
through  the  mud  of  the  metropolis.    She  could  only  suffer  degrada- 
tion and  ridicule  from  such  a  proceeding,  which  a  little  spirit  mirrht 
have  prevented.     Her  enemies  bitterly  derided  her,  throu-h  their 
organs  in  the  press.     They  expressed  an  eagerness  to  get  rid  of 
her,  and  added  their  indifference  as  to  wliether  « the  alien  "  was 
finally  disposed  of  as  a  martyr,  or  as  a  criminal.     On  the  other 
hand,  her  over-zealous  partisans  gave  utterance  to  their  convictions 
that  there  was  a  project  on  foot  to  murder  the  queen.     Party- 
spirit  never  wore  so  assassin-like  an  aspect  as  it  did  at  this  mo- 
ment.    Caroline,  it  must  be  added,  was  not  displeased  with  these 
popular  ovations.    « I  have  derived,"  she  remarked  in  her  reply  to 
the  City  address,  "unspeakable  consolations  from  the  zealous  and 


CAROLINE   OF  BRtJNSWICK. 


325 


constant  attachment  of  this  warmhearted,  just,  and  generous  people; 
to  live  at  home  with,  and  to  cherish  whom,  will  be  the  chief  hap- 
piness of  the  remainder  of  my  days."  But  her  chief  occupation 
now,  was  to  look  to  her  defence,  for  the  time  had  arrived  when 
her  accusers  were  to  speak  openly. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


QUEEN,  PEERS  AND  PEOPLE. 

The  secret  committee  charged  with  examining  the  documents 
in  the  sealed  bags,  made  their  report  early  in  July.  This  report 
was  to  the  effect  that  the  documents  contained  allegations,  support- 
ed by  the  concurrent  testimony  of  witnesses  of  various  grades  in 
life,  which  deeply  affected  the  honor  of  the  queen ;  charging  her, 
as  they  did,  with  a  "continued  series  of  conduct  highly  unbecoming 
her  majesty's  rank  and  station,  and  of  the  most  licentious  charac- 
ter."    The  committee  reluctantly  recommended   that   the   matter 

should  become  the  subject  of  solemn  inquiry  by  legislative  pro- 
ceeding. 

The  ministers  postponed  any  explanation  as  to  the  course  to  be 
adopted  by  them  upon  this  report,  until  the  following  day.  The 
queen  exhibited  no  symptoms  of  being  daunted  by  it.  She  ap- 
peared in  public  on  the  evening  of  the  day  in  which  the  report  was 
delivered,  and  if  cheers  could  attest  her  innocence,  the  vox  popuU 
would  have  done  it  that  night.  As  the  queen's  carriage  was  passing 
in  the  vicinity  of  Kensington  Gate  it  encountered  that,  bearing  the 
Princess  Sophia.  The  two  cousins  passed  each  other  without  ex- 
changing a  sign  of  recognition,  and  the  doughty  livery  servants  of 
the  princess  showed  that  they  had  adopted  the  prejudices  or  con- 
victions of  their  portion  of  the  royal  family,  by  refusing  obedience 
to  the  commands  of  the  mob,  which  had  ordered  them  to  uncover 
as  they  passed  in  presence  of  the  queen. 

On  Wednesday,  the  5th  of  July,  Lord  Liverpool  brought  in  the 
ever  famous  bill  of  Pains  and  Penalties,  a  bill  of  degradation  and 


I 


326 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


divorce  ;  abill,  in  fact,  if  not  in  words,  in  which  a  wife  was*  charged 
generally,  with  licentious  conduct,  whose  real  accuser  was  her  hus- 
band, and  which  husband  was  the  "  first  gentleman"  by  courtesy, 
and  the  most  unclean  liver,  certainly,  in  all  Europe.  He  raised 
in  court  the  very  dirtiest  of  hands,  and  prayed  for  vengeance  on 
his  wife,  because  hers  were,  allegedly,  not  spotless.  In  this  bill 
the  husband  branded  the  very  virtues  of  his  consort  as  so  many 
vices.  He  would  recognize  nothing  good  in  her.  He  was  in  his 
wrath,  like  Hegel  in  his  blasphemy,  when  the  philosopher,  chal- 
lenged to  admire  the  sparkling  stars  in  the  firmament,  satanically 
reviled  them  as  the  leprosy  of  the  skies. 

The  queen  demande<l,  by  petition,  to  be  furnished  with  the  spe- 
cific charges  brought  against  her,  and  to  be  heard  by  her  counsel 
in  support  of  that  demand.  The  House  refused,  and  Lord  Liver- 
}X)ol  went  on  Avith  his  bill. 

The  queen  again  interfered  by  petition,  requesting  to  have  the 
nature  of  the  charges  against  her  distinctly  stated,  and  to  be  heard, 
in  support  of  her  request,  by  counsel.  These  requests  were  nega- 
tived. Lord  Liverpool,  then,  in  introducing  the  bill,  did  his  utmost 
to  save  the  king  from  being  unfavorably  contra«;ted  in  his  character 
of  complainant,  with  the  queen  in  that  of  defendant.  He  alleged 
that  their  majesties  were  not  before  the  house  as  individuals.  The 
parties  concerned  were  the  queen  as  accused  party,  and  the  state ! 
The  question  to  be  considered  was  whether,  supposing  the  allega- 
tions to  be  substantiated,  impunity  was  to  be  extended  to  guilt,  or 
justice  be  permitted  to  triumph.  The  bill  he  thus  introduced 
noticed  the  various  acts  of  indiscretion  which  have  been  already 
recorded.  These  were  the  familiarity  which  existed  between  her- 
self and  her  courier,  whom  she  had  ennobled,  and  in  honor  of 
whom  she  had  unauthorizedly  founded  an  order  of  chivalry,  of 
which  he  had  been  appointed  grand  master.  The  bill  further 
accused  her  of  most  scandalous,  vicious,  and  disgraceful  conduct 
*'  with  the  said  Bergami,"  but  was  silent  as  to  time  and  place. 
The  document  concluded  by  proposing  that  Caroline  Amelia 
Elizabeth  should  be  deprived  of  her  rank,  rights,  and  privileges 
as  queen,  and  that  her  marriage  with  the  king  be  dissolved  and 
disannulled  to  all  intents  and  purposes."     The  bill,  in  short,  pro- 


CAROLINE  OF  BRL^'SWICK. 


327 


nounced  her  infamous.  It  was  the  penalty  which  she  paid  for  the 
exercise  of  much  indiscretion.  Earl  Grey  complained  of  the  want 
of  specification,  and  asserted  her  majesty's  right  to  be  furnished 
with  the  names  of  witnesses.  Lord  Liverpool,  however,  treated 
the  assertion  as  folly,  and  the  claim  made  as  unprecedented  and 
inexpedient. 

A  copy  of  the  bill  was  delivered  fo  the  queen  by  Sir  Thomas 
Tyrwhitt.  She  received  it  not  without  emotion,  and  this  was 
sufficiently  great  to  give  a  confused  tone  to  her  observations  on  the 
occasion.  Had  the  bill,  she  said,  been  presented  to  her  a  quarter 
of  a  century  earlier  it  might  have  served  the  king's  purpose  better. 
She  added  that,  as  she  should  never  meet  her  husband  again  in 
this  world,  she  hoped,  at  least,  to  do  so  in  the  next,  where  certainly 
justice  would  be  rendered  her. 

To  the  Lords  she  sent  a  message  expressive  of  her  indignant 
surprise  that  the  bill  should  assume  her  as  guilty,  simply  upon  the 
report  of  a  committee  before  whom  not  a  single  witness  had  been 
examined.  Her  friends  continued  to  harass  the  government.  In 
the  Commons,  Sir  Ronald  Ferguson  attempted,  though  unsuccess- 
fully, to  obtain  information  as  to  the  authority  for  the  organizing 
of  the  Milan  commission  for  examining  spies.  That  commission, 
lie  intimated,  originated  with  the  vice-chancellor,  Sir  John  Leach, 
and  had  cost  the  country  between  thirty  and  forty  thousand  pounds, 
for  one  half  of  which  sum,  he  added,  Italian  witnesses  might  be 
procured  who  would  blast  the  character  of  every  man  and  woman 

in  England. 

The  feeling  against  Italians  did  not  require  to  be  excited.  Those 
who  arrived  at  Dover  to  furnish  evidence  against  the  queen  were 
very  roughly  treated  ;  and  so  fearful  were  the  ministers  that  some- 
thing worse  might  happen  to  them,  they  were,  after  various  changes 
of  residence  in  London,  transferred  to  Holland,  much  to  the  disgust 
of  the  Dutch,  before  they  were  finally  cloistered  up  in  Cotton  Gar- 
den, at  hand  to  furnish  the  testimony,  for  the  bringing  of  which 
they  received  very  liberal  recompense. 

Meanwhile,  Dr.  Parr,  in  ponderous  sermons,  exhorted  her 
majesty  not  to  despise  the  chastening  of  the  Lord,  and  the  queen's 


II 


L    ^ 


328 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


devout  deportment  at  divine  service  was  cited,  by  zealous  advo- 
cates, as  evidence  in  favor  of  her  general  propriety. 

Indeed  the  queen  had  no  more  zealous  champion  than  the  al- 
most octogenarian  Parr.  On  the  fly-leaf  of  the  Prayer-book  in  the 
reading-desk  of  his  parish  church  at  Hatton,  he  entered  a  stringent 
protest  against  the  oppression  to  which  she  had  been  subjected  ; 
adding  a  conviction  entertained  by  him  of  her  complete  innocence, 
and  expressing  a  determination,  although  forbidden  to  pray  for  her 
by  name,  to  add  a  prayer  for  her  mentally,  after  uttering  the  words 
in  the  Liturgy,  "rt//the  royal  family."  In  his  heart  the  stout  old 
man  prayed  fervently;  nor  did  he  confine  himself  to  such  service. 
A  friend,  knowing  his  opinions,  his  admiration  of  the  princess,  and 
the  friendly  feelings  which  had  long  mutually  existed  between 
them,  earnestly  begged  of  him  not  to  interfere  in  her  affairs  at  this 
conjuncture.  Dr.  Parr  answered  the  request  by  immediately 
ordering  his  trunk  to  be  packed,  and  by  proceeding  to  London, 
where  he  entered  on  the  office  of  her  majesty's  chaplain,  procured 
the  nomination  of  the  Rev.  M.  Fellowes  to  the  same  office,  and, 
in  conjunction  with  him,  and  often  alone,  wrote  those  royal  replies 
to  popular  addresses  which  are  remarkable  for  their  force,  and  for 
the  ability  with  which  they  are  made  to  metaphorically  scourge 
the  king,  without  appearing  to  treat  him  with  discourtesy. 

There  wjis  as  much  zeal,  and  perhaps  more  discretion,  in  those 
impartial  peers  who,  on  occasion  of  Lord  Liverpool  moving  the 
second  reading  of  the  bill  for  the  17th  of  August,  insisted  on  the 
undoubted  right  of  the  queen,  as  an  accused  party,  to  be  made  ac- 
quainted with  the  names  of  the  witnesses  who  had  come  over  to 
charge  her  with  infamy.  Lord  Erskine  was  particularly  urgent 
and  impressive  on  this  point,  but  all  to  no  purpose,  save  the  ex- 
tracting an  assurance  from  Lord  Chancellor  Eldon,  that  the  accused 
should  have,  at  a  fitting  season,  a  proper  opportunity  to  sift:  the 
character  of  every  witness,  as  far  as  possible.  Lord  Erskine  re- 
peatedly endeavored  to  obtain  the  full  measure  of  justice  for  the 
accused,  which  he  demanded.  The  queen,  herself,  entered  a  hearty 
protest  against  the  legal  oppression ;  and  further  begged,  by  peti- 
tion, that  as  the  names  of  the  witnesses  against  her  were  withheld, 
she  might  at  least  be  furnished  with  a  specification  of  the  times 


CAROLINE  OF  BRUNSWICK. 


329 


and  places,  when  and  where  she  was  said  to  have  acted  improperly. 
The  request  was  characterized  by  Lord  Eldon  as  "  perfectly  ab- 
surd," seeing  that  the  queen  could  make  no  use  of  the  information, 
if  she  intended,  as  declared  by  her,  to  defend  her  case  at  the  early 
period  named,  of  the  17th  of  August.  The  reply  was  harsh,  in- 
sulting, and  illogical. 

But  to  harshness  and  insult  she  became  inured  by  daily  experi- 
ence. It  may  be  safely  said,  that  if  such  a  drama  had  to  be 
enacted  in  our  own  days,  the  press  would  certainly  not  distinguish 
itself  now  exactly  as  it  did  then.  Party  si)irit  might  be  as  strong, 
but  there  would  be  more  refinement  in  the  expression  of  it.  And 
assuredly,  not  even  a  provincial  paper  would  say  of  a  person  before 
trial,  as  a  Western  journal  said  of  the  queen,  that  she  was  as  much 
given  to  drunkenness  as  to  other  vices,  and  that  it  was  ridiculous 
to  hold  up  as  an  innocent  victim  a  woman  who,  "  if  found  on  our 
pavement,  would  be  committed  to  Bridewell  and  whipped." 

But  ministers  themselves  were  not  on  a  bed  of  roses.  They 
were  exceedingly  embarrassed  by  the  queen's  announcement  that 
she  intended  to  be  present  every  day  in  the  House  of  Lords  during 
the  progress  of  what  was  now  properly  called  "  the  Queen's  Trial." 
Their  anger,  too,  was  excited  at  the  sharp  philippics  against  them, 
inserted  in  her  majesty's  replies  to  the  addresses  presented  to  her. 
In  those  replies,  the  passages  complained  of  wounded  more  than 
those  against  whom  they  were  pointed ;  and  the  authors  of  them 
had,  no  doubt,  some  mirth,  over  sentences  intended  to  spoil  it  in 
the  breasts  of  ministers,  charged  with  rebelliously  seeking  to  de- 
throne their  lawful  queen.  The  royal  replies,  too,  were  equally, 
but  not  so  directly,  severe  against  those  former  counsellors  and 
advocates  of  her  majesty,  who  were  now  arrayed  on  the  side  of 
her  majesty's  enemy.  These  replies  were,  of  course,  not  censured 
by  the  ministerial  opponents  in  either  house  of  parliament.  The 
addresses  which  called  them  forth,  however,  did  not  escape 
reproach  from  this  quarter.  Lord  John  Russell,  in  a  letter  to  Mr. 
Wilbei-force,  does  not  indeed  go  so  far  as  reproach.  He  says :  "*  I 
regret,  though  I  cannot  severely  blame,  the  language  of  many  of 
the  addresses  that  have  been  presented  to  the  queen." 

Lord  John   acknowledged  the  political  nullity  of  the  Whigs  at 


I 


m 


n 

i 


830 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS    OF  ENGLAND. 


m 


this  time,  but  he  lield  that  the  Wilberforce  party  in  the  Commons 
were  sufficiently  powerful  to  have  successfully  resisted  the  scandal 
which  the  government  had  brought  upon  the  kingdom.  "  In  your 
hands,  sir,"  he  says,  "is  perhaps  the  fate  of  this  country.  The 
future  historian  will  ask  whether  it  was  right  to  risk  the  welfare 
of  England — her  boasted  constitution,  her  national  power,  on  the 
event  of  an  inquiry  into  the  conduct  of  the  Princess  of  Wales,  in 
her  villa  upon  the  Lake  of  Como  ?  From  the  majority  which 
followed  you  in  the  House  of  Commons,  he  will  conclude  you  had 
the  power  to  prevent  the  die  being  thrown.  He  will  ask  if  you 
wanted  the  inclination  ?" 

To  this  letter  Lord  John  llussell  appended  a  form  of  petition  to 
the  king,  which  may  not  uncourteously  be  termed  the  petition  of 
the  powerless  Whig  statesman.  This  ])etition  smartly  and  smart- 
ingly  complimented  his  majesty  upon  his  liberality  in  otiering  to 
allow  his  queen  fifty  thousand  a  year,  and  to  introduce  her  to  a 
foreign  court,  at  a  time  when  he  knew  that  she  was,  allegedly 
perfectly  worthless  as  woman,  wife,  and  mother.  With  the  do- 
mestic broils  of  king  and  queen,  Lord  John  would  not  interfere, 
but  the  king  having  made  of  them  an  affair  of  state,  the  "humble 
petition"  informs  his  majesty  that  he  has  been  exceedingly  ill- 
advised.  With  excellent  spirit  does  Lord  John  place  uj>on  ricord 
his  abhoiTcnce  of  enacting  laws  to  suit  a  ^olitary  ca.-e — laws 
"  which  at  once  create  the  offence,  regulate  the  proof,  decide  upon 
the  evidence,  and  invent  the  punishment."  He  asks  if  the  queen 
will  escape  from  justice  in  the  event  of  the  bill  not  passing  ?  Are 
the  ministers  afraid  lest  she  may  so  defraud  justice, — why,  "  that 
the  queen  has  not  fied  from  justice  is  not  only  the  admission,  but 
forms  one  of  the  chief  charges  of  her  prosecutors."  Her  prosecu- 
tion then  will  not  serve  the  state.  Can  the  revelation  of  her 
alleged  iniquity  at  Como  or  Athens  serve  or  influence  public 
morals  in  England  ?  What  is  the  situation  of  the  queen  ?  asks 
Lord  John,  who  thus  replies  to  his  own  query  :  "  Separated  from 
her  husband  during  the  first  year  of  her  marriage,  she  has  been 
forced  out  of  that  circle  of  domestic  duties  and  domestic  afi'ections 
which  alone  are  able  to  keep  a  wife  holy  and  safe  from  evil.  For 
the  period  to  which  the  accusation  extends  she  has  been  also  re- 


CAROLINE  OF  BRtJNSWICK. 


331 


moved  from  the  control  of  public  opinion — the  next  remaining 
check  the  world  can  afford  on  female  behavior."  Lord  John 
perhaps  makes  a  low  estimate  of  female  virtue  when  he  thus  con- 
cludes, that  women  cettse  to  be  "  holy  and  safe  from  evil,"  when 
they  cettse  to  have  a  share  in  domestic  affections,  or  to  be  controlled 
by  public  opinion.  There  is  more  sly  humor  in  what  follows,  than 
there  is  of  correctness  in  the  noble  lord's  estimation  of  female 
virtue.  The  drawer-up  of  the  petition  reminds  the  king  that  what 
most  distresses  him  is  "  the  uncrowning  a  royal  head  without  ne- 
cessity ; — we  see  much  to  alann  us  in  the  example ;  nothing  to 
console  us  in  the  immediate  benefit."  Not,  says  the  petitioner, 
slily,  that  we  do  not  recognize  the  right  of  parliament  to  alter  the 
succession  to  the  crown.  "  None  respect  more  than  we  do  the  Act 
of  Settlement  which  took  away  the  crown  from  its  hereditaiy  suc- 
cessors, and  cave  it  to  the  House  of  Brunswick  ;"  and,  as  the 
writer  alludes  to  the  i)Ossibility  of  the  new  subject  of  strife  bring- 
ing the  country  to  the  verge  of  a  civil  war,  he  of  course  intimates 
that  parliament  may  again  be  called  upon  to  regulate  the  succes- 
sion. The  sum  of  the  petition  is  to  let  the  queen  alone.  "  From 
her  future  conduct  your  Majesty  and  the  nation  will  be  enabled  to 
judge  whether  the  reports  from  ^lilan  were  well  founded,  or 
whether  they  were  the  offspring  of  curiosity  and  malice."  The 
prayer  of  the  petition,  therefore,  is,  that  parliament  be  prorogued, 
and  "  thus  end  all  proceedings  against  the  queen." 

Of  course,  this  petition  was  really  a  political  pamphlet,  intro- 
duced for  no  other  purpose  but  the  exposition  of  certain  opinions. 
The  queen's  replies  to  the  popular  addresses  borrowed  something 
of  the  tone  of  this  document,  and  were  partly  sarcastic,  partly  seri- 
ous, in  regretting  that  an  impartial  tribunal  was  not  to  be  found 
on  this  occasion  in  the  House  of  Lords. 

Her  majesty  now  once  more  changed  her  residence  from  Port- 
man-street  to  Brandenburgh  House,  the  old  suburban  residence 
of  the  ^largravine  of  Anspach,  on  the  banks  of  the  Thames,  near 
Hammersmith,  where  watch  and  ward  were  nightly  kept  by 
volunteer  sentinels  from  among  some  of  the  more  enthusiastic 
inhabitants  of  the  vicinity.  The  distance,  however,  was  too  great 
to  enable  her  majesty  to   repair  conveniently  to  the  House  of 


332 


LIVES  OF  THE    QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


Lords  when  her  trial  should  be  in  progress.  The  widow  of  Sir 
Philip  Francis  had  compassion  upon  her,  and  made  her  an  offer, 
promptly  accepted,  of  the  widow's  mansion  in  St.  James's  Square. 
It  was  next  to  that  of  her  great  enemy,  Lord  Castlereagh ;  and 
to  reach  the  House  of  Lords,  she  would  daily  have  to  pass  Carlton 
House,  the  residence  of  the  husband  who  was  so  blindly  bent  upon 
consigning  her  to  infiimy. 

In  the  midst  of  these  preparations  for  a  great  event,  died  a  prin- 
cess as  unfortunate  as  Caroline,  but  one  who  bore  her  trials  with 
more  wisdom.  The  Duchess  of  York,  the  wife  of  the  second  son 
of  Queen  Charlotte,  died  on  Friday,  the  6th  of  August.  Her  mar- 
ried life  had  been  an  unhappy  one,  and  every  day  of  it  was  a  dis- 
grace to  her  profligate,  unprincipled,  and  good-tempered  husband. 
She  endured  the  sorrows  which  were  of  his  inflicting  with  a  silent 
dignity,  and  some  eccentricity.  In  her  seclusion  a,  Oatlands,  this 
amiable,  patient,  and  much-loved  lady  passed  a  brief  career,  mark- 
ed by  active  beneficence.  Her  blue  eyes,  fair  hair,  and  light  com- 
plexion, are  still  favorite  themes  of  admiration  with  those  who 
have  reason  to  gratefully  remember  her.  A  great  portion  of  her 
income  was  expended  in  founding  and  maintaining  schools,  en- 
couraging benefit  societies,  and  relieving  the  i>oor  and  distressed. 
But  her  benevolence  had  an  eccentric  side,  and  the  indulgence  of 
it  w^as  the  only  indulgence  she  allowed  herself.  She  loved  the 
brute  creation,  and  had  an  especial  admiration  for  dogs.  Of  these 
she  supported  a  perfect  colony,  and  daily  might  her  canine  friends, 
of  every  species  and  in  considerable  numbers,  be  seen  taking  their 
airing  in  the  park,  often  with  their  benevolent  hostess  leading  the 
way  and  taking  delight  in  witnessing  their  gambols.  She,  per- 
haps, was  the  more  attached  to  them  because  she  had  been  so 
harshly  used  by  man ;  and  a  touch  of  misanthropy  was  probably 
the  ba-is  of  her  regard  for  animals.  The  progeny  of  her  estab- 
lished favorites  were  boarded  out  among  the  villagers,  and  in  the 
park  was  a  cemetery  solely  devoted  as  the  burial-ground  of  her 
quadruped  friends.  They  rested  beneath  small  tombstones,  which 
bore  the  names,  age,  and  characters  of  the  canine  departed.  In 
these  things  may  be  seen  the  weak  side  of  her  character ;  but  it 
was  a  weakness  that  might  be  easily  j  ardoned.     Hers  was  a  char- 


CAROLINE  OF  BRUNSWICK. 


333 


acter  that  had  also  its  firm,  and  perhaps  humorous  side.  She  had 
patronized  a  party  of  strolling  actors,  and  sent  her  foreign  servants 
who  could  comprehend  little,  to  listen  to  the  moan  of  Shakspeare 
murdered  in  a  bam.  Shortly  after,  an  earnest  and  itinerant  Wes- 
leyan  hired  the  same  locality,  and  the  duchess  ordered  the  house- 
hold down  to  listen  to  the  sermon.  The  foreigners  among  them 
pleaded  their  ignorance  of  the  language,  as  an  excuse  for  not 
going.  "  No,  no,"  said  the  duchess,  "  you  were  ready  enough  to 
go  to  the  play,  and  you  shall  also  go  to  the  preaching.  I  am 
going  myself;" — and  in  the  barn  at  Wey bridge  the  oflScial  suc- 
cessor of  John  Wesley  expounded  Scripture  to  the  lineal  successor 
of  Frederick  the  Great. 

She  had  not  the  spirit  of  Caroline,  and  was  all  the  happier  for 
it.  The  latter,  indeed,  was  more  harshly  tried,  but  she  in  some 
degree  provoked  the  trial,  and  was  now  suffering  the  consequence 
of  the  provocation.  She  gave  a  few  days  to  retirement,  in  conse- 
quence of  the  death  of  the  duchess  ;  and  this  duty  performed,  she 
was  again  in  public,  working  with  energy  and  determination  to 
accomplish  the  restoration  of  a  name  which  had  been  tarnished  by 
her  own  indiscretion.  And  indiscretion  is,  perhaps,  one  of  the 
most  ruinous  ingredients  in  a  character.  It  is  a  torch  in  the  hand 
of  the  careless,  firing  the  very  garments  of  the  bearer. 

The  addresses  to  the  queen  now  became  greater  in  number,  and 
stronger  in  language.  The  replies  to  them  also  became  more 
energetic  and  menacing  in  expression.  They  were  still  popularly 
ascribed  to  Dr.  Parr,  and  from  whomsoever  proceeding,  the  author 
very  well  kept  in  view  the  personage  for  whom,  and  the  circum- 
stances under  which,  he  was  speaking.  Thus,  to  the  deputation 
from  Canterbury,  one  paragraph  of  the  royal  reply  was  in  these 
words :  "  When  my  accusers  offered  to  load  me  with  wealth,  on 
condition  of  depriving  me  of  honor,  my  habitual  disinterestedness 
and  my  conscious  integritj'  made  me  spurn  the  golden  lure.  My 
enemies  have  not  yet  taught  me  that  wealth  is  desirable  when  it 
is  coupled  with  infamy."  This  was  something  of  self-laudation, 
but  in  the  answer  to  the  Norwich  address,  the  queen  directed  at- 
tention from  herself  to  the  perils  which  menaced  the  state,  through 
her  prosecution.     The  maimer  of  that  prosecution  was  described 


334 


LIVES  OP  THE    QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


CAROLINE  OF  BRUNSWICK. 


335 


by  her  as  ultimately  threatening  the  vital  interests  of  individual 
and  general  liberty.     "  The  question  at  this  moment  is  not  merely 
whether  the  queen  shall  have  her  rights,  but  whether  the  rights 
of  any  individual  in  the  kingdom  shall  be  free  from  violation." 
There  was  more  dignity  in  this  sentiment  and  language  than  in 
the  queen's  letter  addressed  to  the  king.     Of  course,  this  epistle 
was  not  the  queen's,  but  a  mere  manufacture,  which  the  king, 
naturally  enough,  would  not  read,  or  at  least  would  not  acknow- 
ledge that  he  had  read.     "  Your  court  became  much  less  a  scene 
of  polished  manners  and  of  refined  intercourse  than  of  low  intrigue 
and  scurrility.     Spies,  bacchanalians,  tale-bearers,  and  foul  con- 
spirators, swarmed  in  those  places  which  had  before  been  the 
resort  of  sobriety,  virtue,  and  honor."     But  the  object  of  the  letter 
was  less  to  contrast  the   regent's  court  with  that  of  the  Queen 
Charlotte,  than  to  protest  against  the  constitution  of  the  court 
before  which  she  was  to  be  tried.     In  that  court,  she  said,  her 
accusers  were  her  judges ;  the  ministers  who  had  pre-condemned 
her  commanded  the  majority;  and  the  husband  who  sought  to 
destroy  her  exercised  an  influence  there,  perilous  to  the  fair  awaixl 
of  justice.     She  demanded  to  be   tried  according  to  law.     "  You 
have  left  me  nothing  but  my  innocence,"  she  remarked,  "  and  you 
would  now,  by  a  mockery  of  justice,  deprive  me  of  the  reputation 
of  possessing  even  that." 

In  the  reply  to  the  Middlesex  address,  there  is  the  sole  admis- 
sion of  blame  attaching  to  her,  through  indiscretion.  "  My  frank 
and  unreserved  disposition  may,  at  times,  have  laid  my  conduct 
open  to  the  misrepresentations  of  my  adversaries."  But,  "  I  am 
what  I  seem,  and  I  seem  what  I  am.  I  feel  no  fear,  except  it  be 
the  fear  that  my  character  be  not  sufficiently  investigated.  I  chal- 
lenge every  inquiry  ;  I  deprecate  not  the  most  vigilant  scrutiny." 
Against  the  method  of  carrying  on  the  scrutiny,  she  continued  to 
protest  most  heartily.  "  In  the  bill  of  Pains  and  Penalties,"  she 
replied  to  the  address  from  Shoreditch,  "  my  adversaries  first  con- 
demn me  without  proof,  and  then,  with  a  sort  of  novel  refinement 
in  legislative  science,  proceed  to  inquire  whether  there  is  any 
proof  to  justify  the  condemnation."  To  the  more  directly  popular 
mind,  to  the  address  of  the  artisans,  for  instance,  she  delivered  an 


answer  in  which  there  is  the  following  passage  :  "  Who  does  not 
see  that  it  is  not  owing  to  the  wisdom  of  the  Deity,  but  to  the 
hard-heartedness  of  the  oppressors,  when  the  sweat  of  the  brow 
during  the  day  is  followed  by  the  tear  at  its  close  ?"     This  was 
stirring  up  popular  opinion  against  the  king,  of  whom  she  inva- 
riably spoke  as  her  "  oppressor."     She,  however,  as  significantly 
directed  the  public  wrath  against  the  peers,  as  in  her  reply  to  the 
Hammersmith  address,  wherein  she  says  :   "  To  have  been  one  of 
the  peers,  who,  after  accusing  and  condemning,  affected  to  sit  in 
judgment  on  Queen  Caroline,  will  be  a  sure  passport  to  the  splen- 
did notoriety  of  everlasting  shame."   The  married  ladies  of  London 
went  up  to  her  with  an  address  of  encouragement  and  sympathy. 
Her  answer  to  this  document  contained  an  asseveration  that  she 
was  not  unworthy  of  the  sympathy  of  English  matrons.     "  I  shall 
never  sacrifice  that  honor,"  she  observed,  "  which  is  the  glory  of  a 
woman  ....  I  can  never  be  debased  while  I  observe  the  great 
maxim  of  resi)ecting  myself."     But  her  reply  to  the  inhabitants 
of  Greenwich  had  even  more  of  the  matter  in  it  that  would  sink 
deep  in  the  bosom  of  mothers.     After  alluding  to  the  period  when 
she  was  living  happily  with  her  daughter,  among  those  who  were 
now  addressing  her,  she  added:  "Can  I  ever  be  unmindful  that  it 
was  a  period  when  I  could  behold  that  countenance  which  I  never 
beheld  without  vivid  delight,  and  to  hear  that  voice  which  to  my 
fond  ear  was  hke  music  breathing  over  violets  ?     Can  I  forget  ? 
No,  my  soul  will  never  suf!er  me  to  forget  that,  when  the  cold 
remains  of  the  beloved  object  were  deposited  in  the  tomb,  the 
malice  of  my  persecutors  would  not  even  suffer  the  name  of  the 
mother  to  be  inscribed  upon  the  coffin  of  her  child.     Of  all  the 
indignities  I  have  experienced,  this  is  one  which,  minute  as  it  may 
seem,  has  aflfected  me  as  much  as  all  the  rest.     But  if  it  were 
minute,  it  was  not  so  to  my  agonizing  sensibility."     But,  she  ob- 
served, in  her  reply  to  the  Barnard  Castle  address,  "  My  con- 
science  is   without  a  pang — and  what  have  I  to  fear?"     Her 
majesty,  at  the  same   time,  seldom  allowed  any  opportunity  to 
escape  of  placing  the  king  in,  if  the  phrase  may  be  allowed,  a 
metaphorical  pillory.     "  To  pretend,"  she  thus  spoke  to  the  Beth- 
nal  Green  deputation,  "  that  his  majesty  is  not  a  party,  and  the 


II 


m 


336 


LIVES   OF  THE   QUEENS  OF   ENGLAND. 


sole  complaining  party,  in  this  great  question,  is  to  render  the 
whole  business  a  mere  mockery.  His  majesty  either  does  or  does 
not  desire  the  divorce,  which  the  bill  of  Pains  and  Penalties  pro- 
poses to  accomplish.  If  his  majesty  does  not  desire  the  divorce, 
it  is  certain  that  the  state  does  not  desire  it  in  his  stead ;  and  if 
the  divorce  is  the  desire  of  his  majesty,  his  majesty  ought  to  seek 
it  on  the  same  terms  as  his  subjects ;  for  in  a  limited  monarchy, 
the  law  is  one  and  the  same  for  all."  In  the  answer  to  the  people 
of  Sheirield,  the  same  spirit  is  manifested.  *'  It  would  have  been 
well  for  me,"  she  exclaims,  "  and  perhaps  not  ill  for  the  countiy, 
if  my  oppressor  had  been  as  fur  from  malice  as  myself;  for  what 
is  it  but  malice  of  the  most  unmixed  nature,  and  the  most  unre- 
lenting character,  which  has  infested  my  path,  and  waylaid  my 
steps  during  a  long  period  of  twenty-five  years?"  Her  complaint 
was,  that  during  that  quarter  of  a  century  her  adversaries  had 
treated  her  as  if  she  had  been  insensible  to  the  value  of  character. 
**  For  why  else,"  she  asks,  in  addressing  the  Reading  deputation, 
"  why  else  should  they  have  invited  me  to  bring  it  to  market,  and 
let  it  be  estimated  by  gold  ?  But — a  good  name  is  better  than 
riches.  I  do  not  dread  poverty,  but  I  loathe  turpitude,  and  I 
think  death  preferable  to  shame."  Finally,  she  flattered  the  popu- 
lar ear  by  placing  all  the  authorities  in  the  realm  below  that  of 
the  sovereign  people.  In  her  reply  to  one  of  the  City  Ward  ad- 
dresses occurs  the  assertion  that,  '•  H  the  power  of  king,  lords, 
and  commons  is  limited  by  the  fundamental  laws  of  the  realm, 
their  acts  are  not  binding  when  they  exceed  those  limitations.  If 
it  be  asked,  '  What,  then,  are  kings,  lords,  and  commons  answer- 
able to  any  higher  authority.^'  I  distinctly  answer,  yes.  *To  what 
higher  authority?*  To  that  of  God  and  of  the  people."  Lord 
John  Russell,  too,  told  the  king  that  the  crown  was  held  at  the 
will  and  pleasure  of  the  parliament ;  and  the  queen,  speaking  on 
that  hint,  now  maintained  that  crown  and  parliament  were,  under 
certain  contingencies,  beneath  the  heel  of  the  peupk  souverain. 

It  perplexed  many  of  the  clergy  that  the  Princess  of  Wales 
should  be  continued  to  be  prayed  for  up  to  the  period  of  George 
the  Third's  death,  but  that  Queen  Caroline  should  not  be  named 
in  the  Liturgy  after  the  decease  of  the  only  true  friend  she  ever 


\ 
CAROLINE   OF  BRUNSWICK. 


337 


had  in  the  royal  family.  One  military  chaplam,  a  Mr.  Gillespie, 
of  a  Scotch  yeomanry  regiment,  was  put  under  arrest  for  daring  to 
invoke  a  blessing  ujion  her  in  his  extemporary  prayer  for  the 
royal  family — but  this  was  the  only  penalty  inflicted  for  the  so- 
called  offence. 


CHAPTER  X. 


THE    queen's    trial. 


The  queen's  trial,  a.s  the  proceedings  in  the  House  of  Lords 
was  called,  commenced  on  the  17th  of  August.  They  who  are 
curious  in  details  may  consult  the  journals  of  the  time ;  I  shall 
probably  best  satisfy  all  readers  by  taking  only  a  general  view, 
and  recording  the  result. 

The  queen  had  signiiiod  her  intention  of  attending  daily  in  the 
house  during  the  proceedings ;  and  suitable  accommodation  and  at- 
tendance were  provided  for  her.  In  the  house,  at  all  events,  she 
was  treated  as  queen  consort,  and  she  more  than  once  adverted  to 
the  fact  when  about  to  take  her  seat  on  the  throne-like  chair  and 
cushion  placed  at  her  disposal,  near  her  counsel.  Her  usual  course 
was  to  come  up  from  Brandenburgh  House  early  in  the  moraing, 
10  the  residence  of  Lady  Francis  in  St.  James's  Square.  From 
the  latter  place  she  proceeded,  in  as  much  "  state  "  as  could  be  got 
up  with  her  diminished  means,  to  the  House  of  Lords.  On  these 
occasions,  she  wjis  attended  by  Lady  Anne  Hamilton,  her  cham- 
berlains Sir  W.  Gell  and  Mr.  Keppel  Craven,  and  Alderman 
Wood,  who  invariably  endeavored  to  have  the  honor  of  escorting 
the  queen  into  the  house,  but  was  as  invariably  forbidden  to  pass 
in  that  way,  by  the  local  authorities.  The  alderman,  being  a 
member  of  parliament,  was  compelled  to  pass  through  the  entrance 
allotted  to  the  *'  Commons ;"  and  the  queen,  who  was  received  with 
military  honors,  was  usually  led  into  the  house,  or  to  the  apartment 
assigned  to  her  use,  by  Sir  Thomas  Tyrwhitt  and  Mr.  Brougham, 
each  holding  her  by  a  hand. 

Vol.  n.— 15 


338 


LIVES  OF  TDE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


The  royal  progress  from  St.  James's  Square  to  the  House  of 
Peers,  and  the  return,  were  daily  witnessed  by  a  dense  multitude, 
and  hailed  by  acclamations.     The  queen  thought  the  popular  sym- 
pathy for  her  far  stronger  than  it  really  was.     It  did  not,  indeed, 
want  for  earnestness,  intensity,  or  lionesty,  but  it  did  not  go  deep 
enough  to  urge  the  multitude  to  make  any  serious  demonstration 
in  her  favor.     They  cheered  her  as  she  passed,  cheered  the  soldiers 
who  saluted  her,  and  hissed  those  who  failed  to  show  her  that 
mark  of  respect.     They  hissed  or  cheered  the  peers  on  their  arrival 
according  as  they  knew  that  they  were  opponents  or  supporters  of 
the  queen.     They  were  especially  delighted  when  they  succeeded 
in  compelling  a  lordly  adversary  to  shout,  or  seem  to  shout,  for  the 
queen.     They  strove  mightily  to  bring  the  Marquis  of  Anglesea  to 
this ;  but  on  his  assertion,  that  rather  than  do  a  thing  against  his 
inclination  they  might  run  him  through  the  body,  they  laughed, 
cheered,  and  let  him  pass  on.     The  Duke  of  Wellington  served 
those  who  assailed  him  quite  as  characteristically :  he  was  violently 
hissed  on  his  way  to  the  house  on  the  first  day  of  the  trial ;  he 
checked  his  horse  for  a  moment,  looked  round  with  a  half-smile,  as 
if  the  people  had  been  guilty  of  some  absurd  mistake,  and  then 
quietly  walked  his  horse  onward.    On  another  occasion,  as  he  was 
returning  from  the  house,  the  mob  insisted  upon  his  crying  "  Tlie 
queen  !  The  queen !"    "  Yes,  yes !"  was  his  reply ;  but  hi^  perse- 
cutors  were  not  content  therewith,  and  continued  to  assail  him,  as 
he  rode  slowly  forward.    At  length,  wearied  with  their  importunity, 
he  is  said  to  have  turned  to  his  assailants,  and  exclaimed,  "  Very 
well,  the  queen,  then ;  and  may  all  your  wives  be  like  her !" 

Caroline  was  early  in  her  attendance  on  the  17th  of  August. 
She  entered  the  house  at  ten  o'clock,  while  the  names  of  the  peers 
were  being  called  over.  She  wore  a  black  satin  dress,  with  a 
white  veil  over  a  i)lain  laced  cap.  The  whole  body  of  peers  rose 
to  receive  her,  and  she  acknowledged  the  courtesy  with  that  dignity 
which  she  could  well  assume,  and  which  she  could  so  readily 
throw  off. 

It  was  not  till  the  19th  of  August  that  the  case  was  actually 
opened  by  the  attorney-general.  The  preliminary  proceedings 
were  not,  however,  of  much  interest  j  save  on  the  part  of  the  Duke 


CAROLINE   OF  BRUNSWICK. 


839 


of  Leinster,  who  attempted  by  motion,  to  get  rid  of  the  bill  at  once, 
in  which  he  failed ;  all  parties  being  nearly  agreed  that  there  was 
now  no  possibility  of  retrocession.  The  second  incident  of  interest 
was  in  the  speech  of  Mr.  Brougham  against  the  bill,  and  the  me- 
thod by  which  it  sought  to  crush  his  illustrious  client.  While 
praising  her  self-denying  generosity,  which  induced  her  to  refrain 
from  all  recrimination,  he  ably  adverted  to  the  anomaly  of  the  ac- 
cused person  in  a  aise  of  divorce,  being  prevented  from  showing 
the  guilt  of  her  accuser. 

On  the  19th,  the  attorney-general  opened  his  case.  He  professed 
his  conviction  that  he  should  state  nothing  which  he  could  not 
substimtiate  on  proof;  and  reviewing  the  general  course  of  the 
queen's  life  abroad,  he  deduced  from  it  that  she  had  been  guilty  of 
conduct  which  stamped  her  with  shame  as  princess  and  as  woman. 
Caroline  entered  the  house  towards  the  conclusion  of  his  speech ; 
shortly  after  which  he  introduced  the  first  of  the  batch  of  Italian 
witnesses  lodged  near  the  house,  in  Cotton  Gardens,  and  whose 
presence  there  was  sufficient  to  render  uneasy  the  spirit  of  the 
noble  philosopher  who  gave  his  name  to  the  spot,  and  the  wreck 
of  whose  library  is  among  the  richest  treasures  of  the  British 
Museum.  The  entrance  of  the  first  witness  gave  rise  to  an  in- 
cident dramatic  in  its  effect.  He  was  the  celebrated  Theodore 
IMajocchi,  and  he  no  sooner  appeared  at  the  bar  when  the  queen, 
overcome,  as  it  would  seem,  at  seeing  one  who  owed  her  much 
gratitude,  arrayed  against  her,  exclaimed  ''  Oh  Traditore  !  oh  trai- 
tor I"  and  hurrying  from  the  scene,  took  refuge  in  her  apartment, 
from  which  she  did  not  again  issue  except  to  return  home.  The 
chief  points  supposed  to  have  been  established  by  Majocchi,  were 
that  on  the  deck  of  the  polacca,  Bergami  slept  at  night  beneath 
the  tent  wherein  the  princess  also  slept ;  and  that  the  same  indivi- 
dual attended  her  in  the  bath.  The  tent  was  partially  open,  in  the 
hot  climate  beneath  which  the  wayfarers  were  travelling ;  and  in 
the  bath,  the  princess  wore  a  bathing  dress,  so  that  if  the  indis- 
cretion was  undoubtedly  great,  indecorum  was  not  (it  was  suggest- 
ed) very  seriously  injured.  Of  the  remainder  of  Majocchi's  evi- 
dence  it  has  been  well  remarked  by  one  who  heard  it,  that  "  all  his 
subsequent  assertions  did  not,  in  consequence  of  what  he  impUed 


840 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


bj  this  statement,  weigh  the  worth  of  two  straws  with  me,  for  it 
was  of  the  nature  of  inference,  and  declue<'d  by  the  imagination. 
Besides  I  do  think  he  was  a  knowing  rogue,  who  forgot  to  remem- 
ber many  things  which  perhaps  might  have  changed  the  hue  of  his 
insinuations.     I  do  not  say  that  what  he  did  say  was  not  sufficient 
to  induce  a  strong  suspicion  of  guilt  itself  in  the  members  of  an 
English  society;  but  this  is  the  very  thing  complained  of.     The 
queen  was  in  foreign  society,  in  peculiar  circumstances,  and  yet 
our  state  Solomons  judge  of  her  conduct  as  if  she  had  been  among 
the  English."*     The  remark  is  worth  something,  for  even  at  so 
short  a  distance  from  town  as  Ramsgate  Sands,  the  law  of  modesty 
does  not  appear  to  be  the  same  as  it  is  in  other  parts  of  England ; 
and  as  for  the  incident  of  the  bath,  our  grandfathers  and  grand- 
mothers, in  the  heyday  of  their  youth,  used  to  walk  in  couples  in 
the  "  Batlis  of  Bath,"  and  no  one  presumed  to  take  offence  at  the 
proceeding.     The  writer  last  quoted  further  remarks,  as  a  matter 
worthy  of  observation,  that  Majocchi  did  not  appear  to  be  '^at  all 
shocked  or  shamefaced  at  what  he  said."     The  inference  deduced 
is  that  the  witness  had  been  "  taught  to  dwell  so  particularly  on 
uncomely  things,  by  one  who  did  know  how  much  they  would 
revolt  the  English." 

It  would  indeed  be  revolting  to  go  through  all  the  evidence ;  it 
must  suffice  to  tread  our  way  through  it  as  lightly  and  as  quickly 
as  possible.  All  the  government  witnesses  deposed  to  an  ostenta- 
tion of  criminality  in  parties  who,  if  guilty,  must  have  been  most 
deeply  interested  in  concealing  all  evidences  of  guilt,  and  one  of 
whom  at  least  knew  that  she  was  constantly  watched  and  daily 
reported  of.  This  contmdiction  very  soon  struck  Lord  Eldon  himself, 
who  intimated  that  some  measures  should  be  taken  to  punish  per- 
jury, if  it  could  be  proved  to  have  been  committed.  It  is  certain 
that  the  king's  case  was  materially  damaged  at  a  very  early  stage 
of  the  proceedings,  not  only  by  discrepancy  in  the  evidence,  but 
by  the  suspicious  alacrity  of  the  witnesses  in  tendering  it. 

A  close  watcher  of  Majocchi,  when  giving  his  evidence,  says  : 
— "  I  cannot  understand  why  so  much  importance  is  attached  to 

•  Letter  in  "  Diary  illustrative  of  the  Court,  &c.,  of  Geor<Tc  IV." 


CAROLINE  OF  BRUNSWICK. 


841 


the  evidence  of  Majocchi.     He  did  not  state  anyone  thing  that 
indicated  a  remembrance  of  his  having  put  a  sense  of  indecorum 
on  the  conduct  of  the  queen  at  the  time  to  which  he  referred ;  and 
in  this,  I  think,  the  want  of  tact  in  those  who  arranged  the  case  is 
glaringly  obvious.     As  men,  they  could  not  but  have  often  seen 
that  it  is  the  nature  of  recollected  transactions  to  affect  the  expres- 
sion of  the  physiognomy,  and  particularly  of  the  kind  of  transac- 
tions which  the  traditore  knew  he  was  called  to  prove ;  yet  in  no 
one  instance  did  Majocchi  show  that  there  was  an  image  in  his 
mind,  even  while  uttering  what  were  thought  the  most  sensual 
demonstrations.     In  all  the  most  particular  instances  that  pointed 
to  guilt,  he  was  as  abstract  as  Euclid  ;  a  logarithmic  transcendent 
could  not  have  been  more  bodiless,  than  the  memory  of  his  recol- 
lections.    I  do  not  say  that  he  was  taught  by  others,  but  I  affirm 
that  he  spoke  by  rote."* 

Many  of  the  servants  examined  swore  positively  to  much 
unseemliness  of  demeanor  between  Bergami  and  the  princess,  and 
some  went  very  much  further  than  this.  Of  these,  several  con- 
fessed to  being  hostile  to  the  courier  :  some  were  jealous  of  him  ; 
but  they  all,  despite  some  discrepancy  of  detail,  kept  to  the  leading 
points  of  their  evidence,  which  was  destructive  to  the  reputation 
of  the  princess. 

Captain  Briggs,  and  Captain  Pechell,  with  whom  she  had 
sailed,  deposed  to  some  folly,  but  no  positive  guilt.  Something 
was  attempted  to  be  made  out  of  the  arrangement  of  the  respec- 
tive berths  on  board  the  ship  commanded  by  the  first  officer,  but 
with  no  remarkable  success.  The  captain  of  the  polacca  gave 
evidence  that  was  much  more  damaging,  with  reference  to  the 
unseemliness  of  sleeping  on  deck,  beneath  a  tent, — for  which  the 
heat  of  the  atmosphere,  and  the  horses  and  mules  that  were  below 
deck,  hardly  offered  sufficient  authority.  Again,  there  was  testi- 
mony of  such  disgraceful  conduct  at  inns,  that  if  it  be  accepted, 
no  other  conclusion  can  be  arrived  at  than  that  those  guilty  of  it 
must  not  only  have  been  lost  to  all  sense  of  shame,  but  eager  that 
their  iniquity  should  be  a  spectacle  to  all  beholders.     "  As  the 

♦  "  Diary,"  &c. 


342 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


Whole  case  now  is,"  sajs  a  contemporary  writer,  "  by  making  it 
more  gross  than  in  all  human  probability  it  could  be,  the  evidence 
where  it  might  otherwise  be  trusted,  is   rendered   unworthy  of 
credit."  ^ 

But  there  were  incidents  in  the  drama  that  were  not  all  for  the 
audience      "Nature,"  says    the  writer  of  the  "Supplementary 
Letters      annexed  to  the  «  Diary  Illustrative  of  the   Court  of 
George  IV.,"  -often  mixes  up  the  sublime  and  the  ridiculous  helry- 
lessly,  as  it  would  seem ;  and  I  met  to^ay  with  a  curious  instance 
of  her  mdifference.     I  forget  how  it  happened,  but  I  was   driven 
accidentally  against  a  curtain,  and  saw,  in  consequence,  behind  it 
Lord  Castlereagh,  sitting  on  a  stair   by  himself,  holding  his  hand 
to  his  ear,  to  keep  the  sound  and  words  of  the  evidence  which  the 
witness   under   examination   at   the   bar   was   givin-.     Notwith- 
standmg  the  moody  wrath  of  my  ruminations,  I  could  not  help 
laughing  at  the  discovery,  and  his  lordship  looked  equally  amused 
and  was  quite  as  much  discomposed.     He  smiled,  and  I  withdrew' 
I  met  him  afterwards  in  the  lobby  of  the  House  of  Commons, 
when  he  again  smiled." 

Masons,  painters,  wliitewashers  and  waiters,  vied,  or  seemed  to 
vie,  with  each  other  in  the  dirty  character  of  their  depositions. 
Rastelh,  a  groom,  but  discarded  as  a  thief,  did  not  go  further,  but 
both  sides  evidently  considered  him  as  an  unmitigated  scoundrel, 
and  he  was  somehow  permitted  to  disappear,  as  if  either  side  was 
anxious  to  be  rid  of  him.  Scarcely  more  respectable  wa.  the 
woman,  Dumont,  who  dwelt  on  the  abominations  to  which  .he 
swore,  as  if  she  loved  thinking  of  them.  She  was  woi^e  than  the 
boatmen,  bakers,  and  others  with  aliases  to  their  names,  who  how- 
ever,  deposed  to  circumstances  sufficiently  gross  in  character,  and 
drew  dreadfully  strong  inferences  from  generally  slender,  but  occa- 
sionally  very  suspicious  premises. 

The  loathsome  mass  was  got  through  by  the  seventh  of  Sen- 
tember,  when  the  House  adjourned  till  the  third  of  October  The 
members  needed  breathing  time,  and  all  parties,  the  public  included, 
8tood  m  urgent  need  of  that  peculiar  civet  whose  virtue,  accordinc^ 
to  the  poet,  lies  in  its  power  to  sweeten  the  imagination 

The  course  of  fie  trial  exhibited  more  than  one  trait  illustra- 


CAROLINE  OF  BRUNSWICK. 


3^3 


tive  of  the  English  Bar,  and  also  of  individuals.     Thus,  in  the 
interim  between  the  closing  of  the  king's  case,  and  the  opening  of 
the  queen's  defence,  by  Mr.  Brougham,  the  last-named  gentleman 
went  down  to  Yorkshire  to  attend  the  assizes  there.     The  chief 
advocate  of  one  sovereign  against  another  was  there  engaged  in  a 
cause  on  behalf  of  an  old  woman  upon  whose  pig-cot  a  trespass 
had  been  committed.     The  tenement  m  question  was  on  the  border 
of  a  common  of  one  hundred  acres,  upon  five  yards  of  which  it 
was  alleged  to  have  unduly  encroached,  and  was  therefore  pulled 
down  by  the  landlord.     The  poor  woman  sought  for  damages,  she 
having  held  occupation  by  a  yeariy  rent  of  sixpence,  and  sixpence 
on  entering.     The  learned  counsel  pleaded  his  poor  client's  cause 
successfully,  and,  having  procured  for  her  the  value  of  her  levelled 
pig-cot,  some  forty  shillings,  he  returned  to  town  to  endeavor  to 
plead  as  successfully  the  cause  of  the  queen.     The  re-opening  of 
the  case  took  place  on  the  3rd  of  October.     Before  Mr.  Brougham 
rose  to  speak.  Lord  Livcri^ol  made  severe  introductory  remarks, 
for  the  purpose  of  disavowing  all  improper  dealing  with  the  wit- 
nesses on  the  part  of  government.     He  also  expressed  his  readi- 
ness to  exhibit  an  account  of  all  moneys  paid  to  the  witnesses  in 

supix)rt  of  the  bill. 

Mr.  Brougham  then  entered  on  the  queen's  defence  in  a  speech 
of  great  boldness  and  power.     The  sentiments  put  forth  in  that 
oration  would  probably  not  be  endorsed  now  by  Lord  Brougham. 
He  declared,  too,  that  nothing  should  prevent  him  from  fultilling 
his  duty,  and  that  he  would  recriminate  upon  the  king  if  he  found 
it  necessary  to  do  so.     The  threat  gave  some  uneasiness  to  minis- 
ters, but  they  tnisted,  nevertheless,  to  the  learned  counsel's  discre- 
tion!    He  would  have  been  justified  in  the  public  mind  if  he  had 
realized  his  promise.     The  popular  opinion,  however,  hardly  sui> 
ported  him  in  what  followed,  when  he  declared  that  an  P:nglisli 
aavocate  could  look  to  nothing  but  the  rights  of  his  client,  and  that 
even  if  the  country  itself  should  suffer,  his  feelings  as  a  patriot 
must  give  way  to  his  professional  obligations.     This  was  only  one 
of  many  instances  of  the  abuse  of  the  very  extensively  abused, 
and  widely  misunderstood  maxim  oi  Fiit  justitia  mat  caelum. 
Uv.  Denman,  the  queen  s  solicitor-general,  was  not  less  legally 


i 


342 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS   OF   ENGLAND. 


whole  c<ase  now  is,"  says  a  contemporary  writer,  "  by  makin"'  it 
more  gross  than  in  all  human  probability  it  could  be,  the  evidence, 
where  it  might  otherwise  be  trusted,  is  rendered  unworthy  of 
credit."  ^ 

But  there  were  incidents  in  the  drama  that  were  not  all  for  the 
audience.      "  Nature,"  says    the  writer  of  the  "  Supplementary 
Letters^  annexed  to  the  "Diary  IHustrative  of  the    Court  <>f 
George  IV.,"  *' often  mixes  up  the  sublime  and  the  ridiculous  help- 
lessly, as  it  would  seem ;  and  I  met  toKlay  with  a  curious  instance 
of  her  indifference.     I  forget  how  it  happened,  but  I  was   driven 
accidentally  against  a  curtain,  and  saw,  in  consequence,  behind  it 
Lord  Castlereagh,  sitting  on  a  stair  by  himself,  liolding  his  hand 
to  his  ear,  to  keep  the  sound  and  words  of  the  evidence  which  the 
witness   under   examination   at   the   bar   was   giving.     Notwith- 
standing the  moody  wrath  of  my  ruminations,  I  could  not  help 
laughing  at  the  discovery,  and  his  lordship  looked  equally  amused 
and  was  quite  as  much  discomposed.     He  smiled,  and  I  withdrew' 
I  met  him  afterwards  in  the  lobby  of  the  House  of  Commons, 
when  he  again  smiled." 

Masons,  painters,  wliitewashers  and  waiters,  vied,  or  seemed  to 
vie,  with  each  other  in  the  dirty  character  of  their  deposition. 
Rastelh,  a  groom,  but  discarded  as  a  thief,  did   not  go  further  but 
both  sides  evidently  considered  him  as  an  unmitigated  scoundrel 
and  he  was  somehow  permitted  to  disappear,  as  if  either  side  was' 
anxious  to  be  rid  of  him.     Scarcely  more  respectable  was  the 
woman,  Duraont,  who  dwelt  on  the   abominations   to  which  <he 
swore,  as  if  she  loved  thinking  of  them.     She  was  worse  than  the 
boatmen,  bakers,  and  others  with  aliases  to  their  names,  who,  how- 
ever, deiK)sed  to  circumstances  sufficiently  gross  in  character,  and 
drew  dreadfully  strong  inferences  from  generally  slender,  but  occa- 
sionally  very  suspicious  premises. 

The  loathsome  mass  was  got  through  by  the  seventh  of  Ser> 
tember,  when  the  House  adjourned  till  the  third  of  October  The 
members  needed  breathing  time,  and  all  parties  the  public  included, 
stood  m  urgent  need  of  that  peculiar  civet  whose  virtue,  according 
to  the  poet,  lies  in  its  power  to  sweeten  the  imagination. 

The  course  of  tie  trial  exhibited  more  than  one  trait  illu^tra- 


CAROLINE  OF  BRUNSWICK. 


343 


tive  of  the  English  Bar,  and  also  of  individuals.     Thus,  in  the 
interim  between  the  closing  of  the  king's  case,  and  the  opening  of 
the  queen's  defence,  by  Mr.  Brougham,  the  last-named  gentleman 
went  down  to  Yorkshire  to  attend  the  assizes  there.     The  chief 
advocate  of  one  sovereign  against  another  wa.s  there  engaged  in  a 
cause  on  behalf  of  an  old  woman  upon  whose  fig-col  a  trespass 
had  been  committed.     The  tenement  in  question  was  on  the  border 
of  a  common  of  one  hundred  acres,  upon  five  yards  of  which  it 
was  alleged  to  have  unduly  encroached,  and  was  therefore  pulled 
down  b/the  landlord.     The  poor  woman  sought  for  damages,  she 
having  held  occupation  by  a  yearly  rent  of  sixpence,  and  sixpence 
on  enrering.     The  learned  counsel  pleaded  his  poor  client's  cause 
successfully,  and,  having  procured  for  her  the  value  of  her  levelled 
pig-cot,  some  forty  shillings,  he  returned  to  town  to  endeavor  to 
plead  as  successfully  the  cause  of  the  queen.     The  re-opening  of 
the  case  took  place  on  the  3rd  of  October.     Before  Mr.  Brougham 
rose  to  speak.  Lord  Liveri^ol  made  severe  introductory  remarks, 
for  the  purpose  of  disavowing  all  improper  dealing  with  the  wit- 
nesses  on  the  part  of  government.     He  also  expressed  his  readi- 
ness to  exhibit  an  account  of  all  moneys  paid  to  the  witnesses  in 

supiwrt  of  the  bill. 

Mr.  Brougham  then  entered  on  the  queen's  defence  in  a  speech 
of  great  boldness  and  power.     The  sentiments  put  forth  in  that 
oradon  would  probably  not  be  endorsed  now  by  Lord  Brougham. 
He  declared,  too,  that  notliing  should  prevent  him  from  fuliilling 
his  duty,  and  that  he  would  recriminate  upon  the  king  if  he  found 
it  necessary  to  do  so.     The  threat  gave  some  uneasiness  to  minis- 
ters, but  they  trusted,  nevertheless,  to  the  learned  counsel's  discre- 
tion'.    He  would  have  been  justified  in  the  public  mind  if  he  had 
realized  his  promise.     The  popular  opinion,  however,  hardly  sup- 
ported Irim  in  what  followed,  when  he  declared  that  an  English 
advocate  could  look  to  nothing  but  the  rights  of  his  cHent,  and  that 
even  if  the  country  itself  should  suffer,  his  feelings   as  a  patriot 
must  give  way  to  his  professional  obligations.     This  was  only  one 
of  many  instances  of  the  abuse  of  the  very  extensively  abused, 
and  widely  misunderstood  maxim  of  Fittjustitia  mat  coelum. 
Uv.  Denman,  the  queen's  solicitor-general,  was  not  less  legally 


ij 


su 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS   OF   EXGLAXD. 


audacious,  if  one  may  so  speak,  than  his  great  leader.  In  a  voice 
of  thunder,  and  in  presence  of  the  assembled  peerage  of  the  realm 
he  denounced  one  of  the  king's  brothers  as  a  calumniator.  Mr' 
Ilush,whowas  present  on  the  occasion,  says,  "the  words  were 
Come  forth,  THOU  slanderer! '-a  denunciation,"  he  .^oes  on 
to  say,  "  the  more  severe  from  the  sarcasm  with  which  it  w.^  done 

.   ^  ,       /^r  ^^  ^''  '^'  *^''''''"*'  '''  ^^J^'^^-"     That  object  was  thj 
Duke  of  Clarence ;  and  in  reference  to  the  exclamation,  and  the 
fierce  spirit  of  the  hour,  generally,  Mr.  Rush  says  :— -  Even  after 
the  whole  trial  had  ended,  Sir  Francis  Burdett.  just  out  of  prison 
for  one    l.bel   proclaimed  aloud  to   his   constituents,  and  had  it 
printed  m  all  the  papers,  that  the  ministers  all  deserved  to 
BE  H.4.XGED.     This  tempest  of  abuse,  incessantly  directed  against 
the  king  imd  all  who  stood  by  him,  was  borne  during  several 
months,  without  the  slightest  attempt  to  check  or  punish  it ;  and  it 
IS  too  prominent  a   fact  to  be  left  unnoticed,  that  the  same  advo- 
cate,  who  so  fearlessly  uttered  the  above  denunciation,  was  made 
attorney-general  when  the  prince  of  the  blood  who  was  the  object 
OF  IT,  sat  upon  the  throne ;  and  was  subsequently  raised  to  the  still 
higher  dignity  of  lord  chief  justice." 

By  the  end  of  the  third  day  of  the   defence,  the  testimony  had 
assumed  so  fovorable  an  aspect  for  the  queen,  that  ministers  be<ran 
to  deliberate  upon  the  question  of  throwing  up  the  bill  altogether. 
Dunng  the  following  fortnight,  however,  the  subsequent  testimony 
was  not  so  decidedly  contradictory  of  what  the  witnesses  on  the 
other  side  had  sworn  to ;  and  the  government  then  decided  that  the 
bill  should  take  its  course.     The  first  witness  was  a  .Mr.  Lemann, 
clerk  to  the  queen^s  solicitor.     His  deposition  was  to  the  effect  that 
he  had  been  sent  to  Baden  to  solicit  the  attendance  of  Baron  Dante, 
the  Grand  Duke's  chamberlain.     The  bar.>n,  who  was  proprietor 
ot  an  estate  m  Hanover,  and  who  consulted  his  memoranda  before 
he  answered  the  solicitation,  finally,  and  under  sanction,  if  not  order, 
of  his  ducal  m^uster,  refused  to  attend  as  a  witne^..     Colonel  St. 
Leger  simply  proved  that  he  did  not  resign  his  appointment  in  the 
queens  household,  from  any  knowledge  of  her  having  conducted 
herse  f  improperly,  but  on  account  of  ill   health.     The  Earl   of 
Guildford  spoke  to  the  general  propriety  of  the  queen's  conduct 


CAROLINE   OF  BRUNSWICK. 


845 


abroad,  while  under  his  observation ;  and  Lord  Glenbervie  showed 
that  the  royal  reputation  had  not  been  dimmed,  in  his  eyes  at  least? 
during  his  residence  in  Italy,  or  otherwise  he  would  not  have  per- 
mitted Lady  Glenbervie  to  act,  even  for  a  brief  time,  as  lady  in 
waiting   to  the   princess.      Lady  Charlotte  Lindsey  deposed   to 
having  heard  reports  unfavorably  affecting  that  reputation,  but  she 
had  never  seen   anything  to  confirm  them.     Persons  of  inferior 
rank,  in  attendance  on  the  princess,  dei)Osed  to  the  same   effect. 
The  testimony  of  Dr.  Holland  and  Mr.  Mills  was  of  a  highly  favor- 
able character,  exact  and  decisive.     The  evidence  of  other  wit- 
nesses was  equally  favorable  to  the  character  and  conduct  of  the 
courier-chamberlain ;  and,  partly  in  answer  to  the  evidence  which 
spoke  of  her  royal  highness  receiving  strangers  in  her  sleeping 
apartments,  the  Earl  of  Llandaff,  who  had  resided  in  Italy  with 
his  lady  and  family,  showed  that  such  a  circumstance  was  a  part 
of  the  custom  of  Italy.     Mr.  Keppel  Craven,  who  had  originally 
engaged  Bergarai  for  the  service  of  the  princess,  declared  that  the 
individual  in  question  brought  excellent  testimonials  with  him,  and 
that   he  was  of  respectable  family,  and  behaved  with   propriety. 
Mr.  Craven  added  that  he  had  heard  much  about  spies,  and  that 
he  had  admonished    the   princess  touching  the  being  seen  with 
Bergami  in  attendimce  as  a  servant.     This  evidence  was  corrobo- 
rated  by  that  of  Sir  W.  Gell.     A  writer,  commenting  upon  the 
testimony  of  these  witnesses,  and  that  given  on  the  other  side, 
remarks : — that  the  witnesses  on  the  king's  side  "  told  improbable 
stories ;  and  none  of  them  had  the  look  of  speaking  from  recol- 
lection    .     .     .     there  is  a  visible  difference  between  the  expres- 
sion of  the  countenance  in  telling  a  recollection  and  an  imagina- 
tion, especially  such  stories  as  they  told."* 

It  was  further  proved  that,  if  Bergami  kissed  the  princess's 
hand,  he  did  no  more  than  what  was  commonly  done  by  respecta- 
ble Italian  servants  by  way  of  homage  to  their  mistresses. 

This  "  plain  sailing"  was,  however,  somewhat  marred  by  the 
contradictory  evidence  of  Lieutenant  Flynn;  and  even  that  of 
Lieutenant  HoA-^nam  was  sufficient  to  show  that  the  princess,  if  not 

♦  "  The  Diary,"  &c 
15*' 


J. 


m 


346 


LIVES   OF   THE    QUEENS   OF   ENGLAND. 


the  most  gross,  was  certiiinl;-  the  most  indiscreet  of  ladies.  Other 
witnesses  spoke  to  dresses  and  dances  which  had  been  described  as 
disgraceful  in  their  character,  being  really  harmless :  and  others 
again  showed  that  certain  unedifying  sights  could  not  have  been 
seen  by  the  witnesses  who  had  sworn  to  having  been  spectators  of 
them,  from  the  place  in  which  they  stood.  Again,  the  evidence 
did  not  lack  which  proved  the  purchasing  of  testimony  on  the 
other  side,  and  some  excitement  was  raised  when,  on  the  presence 
of  Rastelli  being  required,  it  was  found  that  he  had  been  permitted 
to  leave  the  country.  In  the  opinion  of  some,  he  had  been  con- 
veyed a\jtay  by  the  prosecuting  party.  A  few  thought  he  had 
disappejired  with  the  connivance  of  both  sides. 

The  entire  evidence  was  closed  on  the  30th  of  October ;  when 
the  lords  adjouraed  to  the  2nd  of  November,  from  wliich  day  to 
the  6th,  the  peers  were  engaged  in  debates  upon  the  evidence, 
almost  every  member  assigning  reasons  for  the  vote  he  intended 
to  give.  Mr.  Rush  describes  succinctly  and  vividly  the  chanicter 
of  the  debates  as  the  case  approached  its  close.  It  was  "  stormy" 
in  the  extreme.  "  Earl  Grey  declared  that  if  their  lordships 
passed  the  bill,  it  would  prove  the  most  disastrous  step  the  house 
had  ever  taken.  Earl  Grosvenor  said  that,  feeling  as  he  did  the 
evils  which  the  erasure  of  the  queen's  name  from  the  Liturgy  (a 
measure  taken  before  her  trial  came  on)  was  likely  to  entail  upon 
the  nation,  as  well  as  its  repugnance  to  law  and  justice,  he  would, 
had  he  been  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  have  thrown  the  prayer- 
book  in  the  king's  face,  sooner  than  have  consented  to  it.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  Duke  of  Montrose  said,  even  after  the  ministers 
had  abandoned  the  bill,  that  so  convinced  was  he  of  her  guilt, 
whatever  others  might  think  to  do,  he,  for  one,  would  never  ac- 
knowledge her  as  his  queen." 

The  bill,  however,  was  not  yet  abandoned.  The  house  divided 
on  the  6th  of  the  month,  on  the  second  reading,  which  was  carried 
by  123  to  95,  giving  ministers  a  majority  of  28.  The  queen  im- 
mediately signed  a  protest  against  the  nature  of  the  proceedings. 
The  document  terminated  with  these  words :  ''  She  now  most 
deliberately,  and  before  God,  asserts  that  she  is  wholly  innocent  of 
the  crime  laid  t^^  her  charge,  and  she  awaits  with  unabated  confi- 


CAROLINE   OF  BRUNSWICK. 


847 


deuce  tlie  final  result  of  this  unparalleled  investigation  ;" — and  as 
she  signed  the  protest  she  exclaimed,  with  a  dash  of  her  pen, 
*'  there  *  Caroline  Reguia'  in  spite  of  them." 

By  a  clever  manoeuvre  of  her  friends,  the  ministers  were  next 
cast  into  a  minority.     The  house  had  gone  into  committee  on  the 
divorce  clause.     The  clause  was  distasteful  to  some  of  the  bishops. 
Dr.  Ilowley,  indeed,  is  said  to  have  held  that  the  king  could  do  no 
wron«^  even  if  he  broke  the  seventh  commandment.     Others,  how- 
ever,  thought  that  a  man  so  notoriously  guilty  in  that  respect  was 
not  justified  in  seeking  to  destroy  his  wife,  even  if  she  were  as 
guilty  as  he  was.     The  clause  was  objected  to  by  many  peers,  and 
popularly  it  was  distasteful  for  something  of  the  same  reasons. 
The  ministers  thinking  to  gain  a  point  by  abandoning  a  clause, 
moved  the  omission  of  this  very  clause  of  divorce.     But  the  queen's 
friends  immediately  saw  that  by  the  retaining  of  the  clause,  the 
bishops  and  others  who  preferred  the  bill  without  it  would  be  less 
likely  to  vote  for  the  passing  of  the  bill  itself.     They  accordingly 
voted  that  the  divorce  clause  should  be  retained,  and  the  ministers 
in  a  minority  on  this  point,  proiK)sed  the  third  reading  of  the  bill, 
with  the  clause  in  question  in  the  body  of  it.     One  hundred  and 
eight  voted  for  it,  and  ninety-nine  against  it.     The  ministry  were 
thus  only  in  a  majority  of  nine, — exactly  the  number  of  the  peers 
who  were  members  of  the  cabinet, — and  after  a  short  delay,  Lord 
Liverpool  made  a  merit  of  surrendering  their  measure  as  an  offer- 
ing to  popular  feeling,  although  they  had  carried  the  bill, — with 
too  small  a  majority,  as  he  confessed,  to  enable  ministers  to  act 

upon  it. 

The  queen  was  m  her  own  apartment  in  the  house  of  lords 
when  the  intelligence  was  brought  her  by  her  excited  counsel  that 
the  bill  of  pains  and  penalties  had  been  abandoned.  She  received 
the  intimation  in  perfect  silence,  hardly  seeming  to  comprehend 
the  fact,  or  perhaps  scarcely  knowing  how  it  should  be  appreciated. 
The  ministers  had  carried  their  bill,  but  even  their  withdrawing  of 
it  would  not  prove  her  guiltless.  "  I  shall  never  forget,"  says  one 
present,  "  what  was  my  emotion  when  it  was  announced  to  me  that 
the  bill  of  pains  and  penalties  was  to  be  abandoned.  I  was  walk- 
ing towards  the  west  end  of  the  long  corridor  of  the  House  of 


/, 


348 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


Lords,  wrapt   in  reverie,  when  one  of  the  door-keepers  touched 
me  on  the  shoulder,  and  told  me  the  news.     I  turned  instantly  to 
f^o  back  into  the  house,  when  I  met  the  queen  coming  out  alone 
from  her  waiting-room,  preceded  by  an  usher.     She  had  been  there 
unknown  to  me.     I  stopped  involuntarily.     I  could  not  indeed 
proceed,  for  she  had  a  dazed  look,  more  tragical  than  consterna- 
tion :  she  passed  me.     The  usher  pushed  open  the  folding-doors  of 
the  great  stair-case ;  she  began  to  descend,  and  I  followed  instinct- 
ively two   or   three   steps   behind  her.      She  w^as  evidently  all 
shuddering,  and  she  took  hold  of  the  bannisters,  pausing  for  a 
moment.     Oh,  that  sudden  clutch  with  which  she  caught  the  rail- 
ing.    Never   say   again   to   me   that  any  actor   can  feel  like  a 
principal.     It  was  a  visible  manifestation  of  unspeakable  grief— 
an  echoing  of  the  voice  of  the  soul.     Four  or  five  persons  came  in 
from  below  before  she  reached  the  bottom  of  the  stairs.     I  think 
Alderman  Wood  was  one  of  them,  but  I  was  in  indescribable  con- 
fusion.    ...     I  rushed  past,  and  out  into  the  hastily-assembling 
crowd.     ...     I  knew  not  where  I  was ;  but  in  a  moment,  a 
shouting  in  the  balcony  above,  on  which  a  number  of  gentlemen 
fi-om  the  interior  of  the  house  were  gathering,  roused  me.     The 
multitude  then  began  to  cheer,  but  at  first  there  was  a  kind  of 
stupor.     The  sympathy,  howeve'r,  soon  became  general,  and  winged 
by  the  voice,  soon  spread  up  the  street.     p:very  one  instantly, 
between  Charing  Cross  and  Whitehall,  turned  and  came  rushing 
down,  filling   Old   and  New  Palace  Yards,  as  if  a  deluge  wiis 
unsluiced."* 

♦  "Diary  of  Court,  &c.,  of  George  IV." 


•-» 


CAROLINE   OF  BRUNSWICK. 


349 


CHAPTER  XL 


"tristis  gloria. 

The  queen  was  in  tears  when  the  "people"  were  rejoicing, 
less  certainly  for  her  sake,  than  for  the  popular  victory  which  had 
been  achieved.  There  was  nothinjr  in  the  issue  of  the  trial  for 
any  party  to  rejoice  at.  The  ministry  could  not  exult,  for  although 
they  had  carried  the  bill,  which  declared  the  queen  worthy  of 
degradation  from  her  rights  and  privileges,  rank  and  station,  yet 
they  refrained  from  acting  upon  it,  because  the  popular  voice  was 
hoarse  with  menace,  so  unfairly  had  the  case  of  the  two  antagonists 
been  tried  before  the  august  tribunal  of  the  peers. 

The  popular  voice  had  been  heeded,  and  was  satisfied  with  the 
triumph.  Caroline  must  have  felt  that  she  was  really  of  but  se- 
condary account  in  the  matter,  that  the  victory  was  not  for  her, 
and  that  righteously  or  unrighteously,  her  reputation  had  been 
irretrievably  shaken  into  ruins.  ^ 

Iler  great  spirit,  however,  was  as-  yet  undaunted.     The  bill  was 
no  sooner  withdrawn,  when  she  formally  applied  to  Lord  Liver- 
pool to  be  furnished  with  a  fitting  place  of  residence,  and  a  suitable 
provision.     The  premier's  reply  informed  her  majesty,  that  the 
king  was  by  no  means  disposed  to  permit  her  to  reside  in  any  of 
the°royal  palaces ;  but  that  the  pecuniary  allowance  which  she  had 
hitherto  enjoyed,  should  be  continued  to  her  until  pariiament  should 
a^ain  meet  for  the  regular  dispatch  of  business. 
"The  then  present  pariiament  was  about  to  be  prorogued,  and 
the  queen  was  resolved  that,  if  possible,  that  body  should  not  sep- 
arate until  it  had  granted  her  what,  as  queen  consort,  she  had  a 
right  to  demand.     Her  solicitor-general,  accordingly,  went  down 
to^'the  Commons  with  a  royal  message,  which  he  was  not  permitted 
to  deliver.     The  house  probably  never  presented  such  a  scene  as 


i 


850 


LIVES   OF  THE   QUEENS   OF  ENGLAND. 


that  di.^^graceful  one  of  the  night  of  the  23rd  of  November.     Mr. 
Denman  stood  with  the  queen's  letter  in  his  hand ;  he  was  per- 
fectly in  order,  but  the  speaker  chose  rather  to  obey  that  brought 
by  the  usher  of  the  black  rod,  summoning  the  members  to  attJlid 
at  the  bar  of  the  Lords,  and  listen  to  the  prorogation.    The  speaker 
hurried  out  of  the  house,  and  the  queen's  message  was  virtually 
flung  into  the  street.     The  public,  however,  knew  that  its  chitf 
object  was  to  announce  the  queen's  refusal  of  any  allowance  or 
accommodation  made  to  her  as  by  ministerial  bounty.     She  still 
claimed  the  restoration  of  her  name  to  the  Liturgy,  and  a  revenue 
becoming  her  recognized  rank  as  queen  consort. 

In  the  meantime  she  publicly  partook  of  the  Holy  Communion 

at  the  parish  church  of  Hammersmith,  a  proceeding  which  some 

persons  chose  to  consider  as  a  new  protestation  of  her  innocence. 

The  admirers  of  coincidences  aifected  to  have  found  a  remarkable 

one  in  the  first  lesson  for  the  day,  on  this  occasion  (Lsaiah  lix) ; 

and  particularly  in  the  verse  which  declares  that,  "Judgment  is 

turned  away  backward,  and  justice  standeth  afar  off,  for  truth  is 

fallen  into  the  street,  and  equity  cannot  enter."     This  was  consid- 

ered  as  applicable  to  the  queen's  case,  but  a^  its  applicability  pre- 

sented  itself  in  a  double  sense,  every  one  was  permitted  to  con- 

striie  It  as  he  thought  best. 

Caroline's  next  step  was  to  proceed  to  St.  Paul's  in  solemn, 
public  array,  to  return  thanks  iov  her  escape  from  the  meshes 
constructed  for  her  by  her  enemies.     Due  notice  was  given  of  her 
majesty  s  intention  and  object,  to  the  cathedral  authorities,  and  the 
day  appointed  by  her  was  the  29th  of  November.     The  intimation 
excited  m  those  authorities  neither  admiration  nor  respect.     Even 
the  dean,  the  mild  and  virtuous  Van  Mildert,  seemed  to  think  that 
It  was  highly  unbecoming  in  the  queen  to  be  grateful  for  the  dis- 
pensations of  Heaven.    The  whole  chapter  thought,  or  were  taught 
to  think,  that  there  was  no  greater  nuisance  ui)on  earth,  than  for 
this  woman  to  come  to  St.  Paul's  and  thank  God  that  He  had  not 
allovN^d  her  enemies  to  prevail  over  her.     Those  who  may  have 
any  doubt  as  to  these  being  the  capitular  sentiments,  are  referred 
to  the  hfe  of  Lord  Sidmouth,  by  Dean  Pellew,  who  records  with 


CAROLINE   OF  BRUNSWICK. 


351 


emphatic  approval,  what  the  good,  but  here  mistaken,  Van  Mil- 
dert very  uncharitably  said  and  did  upon  the  occasion. 

The  Corporation  of  London  were  anxious  to  facilitate  the 
queen's  object ;  the  Chapter  of  St.  Paul's,  under  pressure  from 
very  high  authority  without,  resolved  to  do  all  they  could  to  im- 
pede it.  They  determined  that  nothing  should  be  changed  in  the 
ordinary  service ;  that  the  queen's  presence  or  purpose  should  in 
no  way  be  recognized ;  that  the  doors  should  be  thrown  open  to 
the  rush  of  queen  and  canaille  indiscriminately — and,  that  the 
mayor  and  corporation  should  be  held  responsible  for  the  safety 

of  the  Cathedral. 

The  chief  magistrate  and  his  council  soon,  however,  brought  the 
chapter  to  a  more  proper  sense  of  seemliness.  The  latter  body 
indeed  would  not  yield  on  any  really  ecclesiastical  point ;  but  they 
agreed  that  certain  arrangements  might  be  made  by  the  mayor 
and  his  corporate  brothers,  for  the  better  maintenance  of  the  deco- 
rum, dignity,  and  decency  becoming  so  solemn  an  occasion. 

The  dean  was  satisfied  that  the  unwashed  artisan, — the  unclean 
public  generally,— would  make  of  the  day  a  "  saturnalia,"  a  festival 
of  obscene  desecration.  The  public,  it  is  to  be  hoped,  pleasingly 
surprised  him.  It  generally  comports  itself  with  propriety,  when 
it  descends  in  countless  masses  into  the  streets  to  form  a  portion 
of  the  solemnity,  partly  actors,  partly  spectators,  on  great  occa- 
sions.    The  people  never  behaved  with  more  decency  than  they 

did  on  this  day. 

The  circumstance  was  really  solemn,  but  there  were  matters 
about  it  that  robbed  it  of  some  of  its  solemnity.  It  was  solemn  to 
see  a  queen  proceeding  alone,  as  it  may  be  said,  but  through  my- 
riads of  people,  to  acknowledge  publicly  the  mercies  of  Heaven. 
Lady  Anne  Hamilton  was  her  solitary  female  English  attendant; 
but  every  woman  who  witnessed  her  progress,  either  praised  or 
pitied  her  that  day.  Her  "  procession"  was  made  up  of  very  slen- 
der material,  though  all  her  court  followed  her,  in  the  person  of 
Mr.  Vice-Chamberlain  Craven.  This  little  company,  however, 
was  swollen  by  numerous  additions  on  the  way ;  members  of  par- 
liament, among  others.  Sir  Robert  Wilson,  Mr.  Hume,  and  IVIr. 
John  Ciun  Hobhouse  lent  some  dignity  by  their  presence.    Horse- 


it 


■  H 


352 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEEXS  OF  ENGLAND. 


men  fell  .„  o  the  hne,  vehicles  of  every  degree  took  up  their  fol- 
ow,ng,  and  the  .-trade."  n.ar.halled  themselve.,  either  in  joinin. 
the  march  or  drawing  up  to  greet  the  piou.  queen  aa  she  passed 
upon  her  wa.  Among  these,  perhap.  the  solemnity  most  suV";d 
Some  very  ,11-favored  mdividuals  shouted  for  her  Majesty  beneath 
banne^  wh.ch  declared,  ■•  Thus  shall  it  be  done  to  the  woman 
vhom  the  people  delight  to  honor."  The  bmziers  added  a  joke^o 
the  ooca..on,  by  raising  a  flag  over  their  position  at  the  end  of 
«ndge  Street,  on  which  it  was  recorded  that,  '-The  Queen's 
Guards  are  Men  of  Metal."  ^ 

With  the  addition  of  the  ordinal^"  civic  ,x.mp  the  queen  arrived 
at  the  cathedral  where  she  was  received  wi.h  aft-ctionL  respect  by 
her  fnends,  and  with  some  show  of  courtesv  by  the  eccle4s.i„^ 
au,hont,es  who  had  wiled  away  the  time  p;evious  to  Ter  arr  f^ 
by  squabbhng  rather  ,00  loudly  for  the  phce  and  occasion,  with 
the  coriwration  present. 

The  usual  service  w.ts  then  proceeded  with,  and  again  the  coin- 
cidence hunters  sought  for  their  favorite  spoil.    Thev  found  abund- 
ance of  what  they  desired,  in  ,he  hundrc-d-and-fonieth,  and  the 
followmg  psalms.     But  of  these,  the  phrases  cut  both  wavs.  and 
perhaps  there  was  no  passage  n.ore  personally  applicable' to  the 
queen,  and  some  of  those  friends  less  in  deed   han  in  wor.1  tlnn 
>vhe-  «  .s  written  ^-Oh  let  not  my  heart  be  inclined  to  J^  ^U 
hmg;    et  me  not  be  occupied  in  ungodly  works  with  the  men  that 
work  wickedness,  lest  I  cat  such  things  as  please  them.     Let   he 
nghteous  rather  sm.te  me  friendly,  and  rep„,ve  me.     Bu,  let  no! 
he,r  precoiis  baUam  break  my  head ;  yea  I  will  pn»v  ye,  a^n! 
.he,r  wickedness.^     No  especial  form  of  .hanks^vi;.g'^^vas  ^de 
u>e  of  m  her  majesty's  name,  but  this  w.^s  not  needed.     1,^^ 
however,  imperative  upon  the  clergy  officiating  ,0  read  the  paren-' 
hetical  clause  m  the  General  Thankssivin-  nraver   which  Z, 
immediate  reference  .0  the  individual  who  ^Tr^siotite  ^i' 

omitted.     The  queen  consort  of  England  was  upon  her  kne« 

looked  up  to  Him.  and  standing  between  Caroline  and  her  Creator 
exclaimed.  -  Lo,^.  she  is  not  he.^  .•-     The  omission  of  the  S 


CAROLINE   OF   BRt'NSWICK. 


353 


was  tantamount  to  this  much.  The  people  behaved  better  tlian 
the  priests  on  that  day ;  and  yet  it  wa.s  one  on  whicli  the  priests 
might  have  found  occasion  to  give,  that  wliich  they  are  generally 
well  qualified  to  contribute,  valuable  instruction  to  the  people. 
Those  of  St.  Paul's,  at  all  events,  mistook  their  mission  on  the  day 
in  question. 

This  spiritual  matter  ended,  the  temporal  welfare  of  the  queen 
had  to  be  looked  to.  If  she  could  have  existed  upon  good  wishes, 
jhe  would  have  been  wealthv,  for  never  did  conjrratuLitorv  address- 
es  pour  in  upon  her  as  at  the  end  of  this  year  and  the  beginning 
of  that  which  followed.  But  she  needed  something  more  substan- 
tial than  good  wishes,  and  the  king  himself  acknowledged  as  much 
in  *a  speech  from  the  throne,  delivered  on  the  re-opening  of 
parliament  in  January,  1821.  His  majesty  recommended  that  a 
separate  provision  should  be  made  for  the  queen  consort.  She 
instantly  declared  her  refusal  of  any  provision  that  was  not 
accompanied  by  the  restoration  of  her  name  in  the  Liturgy.  The 
condition  was  jieremptorily  declined  by  the  government,  and  the 
income  of  i>0,0(»0/.  a  year  was  then  accepted  by  the  queen.  In  this 
step  she  disappointed  numberless  friends,  who  would  not  have  con- 
tributed a  fariliing  to  her  maintenance.  But  stern  necessity  broke 
the  pride  of  the  poor  lady,  who  was  beginning  to  feel  that  a  bank- 
er without  "  effects"  for  her  use.  was  a  worse  thing  than  a  Liturgy 
without  her  name.  Her  increa-ed  revenue  enabled  her  to  bear 
the  expenses  of  a  town  establishment,  which  she  now  formed  at 
Cambridge  House,  South  Audley  Street,  but  her  favorite  residence 
was  still  that  on  the  banks  of  the  Thames. 

Early  in  May,  1821,  the  ceremony  of  the  king's  coronation 
began  to  be  spoken  of  as  an  event  that  was  alx)ut  to  take  place. 
Caroline  did  not  forget  that  she  was  queen  consort.  She  immedi- 
ately addressed  Lord  Liverpool,  claiming  to  take  part  in  the 
ceremony.  The  premier  replied,  that  as  his  majesty  had  deter- 
mined that  the  queen  should  form  no  part  of  the  ceremonial  of  the 
coronation,  it  was  his  royal  pleasure  that  she  should  not  attend  the 
ceremony  itself.  Ever  active  when  she  could  inflict  annoyance 
on  the  king  by  claiming  what  she  very  well  knew  he  would  never 
concede,  she  succeeded  in  obtaining  a  hearing  for  her  legal  advisers 


354 


LIVES   OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


f 


in  her  behalf,  before  the  Privy  Council.     They  served  her  to  the 
best  of  their  ability,  but  in  truth  they  had  no  ri-ht  upon  their  side, 
and  the  arguments  which  they  raised,  to  prove  what  could  not  be 
demonstrated,  fell  down  as  rapidly  as  they  were  constructed.    Mr 
Brougham  deduced  a  presumed  right  from  a  curious  fact,  from  the 
circumstance  of  a  law  being  passed  in  the  year  784,  excludiHr^ 
Queen  Adelberga  from  the  ceremony  of  being  crowned  queen  of 
the  TV  est  Saxons,  because  she  had  murdered  a  former  husband 
I  may,  however,  with  great  deference,  notice  that  the  most  early 
instance  in  which  the  title  of  queen  is  given  to  a  wife  of  a  King  of 
Uessex,  inany  contemporary   document,  occurs  in  thereinrnof 
Edmund,  A.  D.  945.     The   West  Saxons,  it  wiU  be  remembered, 
had  weU  nigh  dethroned  Ethelwolf  for  crowning  his  wife  Judith 
on  the  ground  that  by  so  doing  he  had  violated  the  laws  of  the 
West  Saxons,  made  by  them  on  the  death  of  their  Kincr  Bertric 
"It  has  been  supj^osed,"  says  Lingard,  in  his  history  of  the  Anglo^ 
Saxon  Church,  '*  that  queens  were  crowned,  because  in  some  MSS. 
the  order  for  the  coronation  of  a  queen  follows  that  for  the  corona- 
tJon  of  a  king ;  but  this  proves  only  that  both  orders  were  contained 
m  the  original  from  which  the  copy  wjis  made."     The  same  writer 
also  states  that  the   little   Queen  Judith   was  so  beloved  that  the 
people  ultimately  acquiesced  in  her  coronation,  without  a  murmur. 
Mr.  Brougham  never  pleaded  a  cause  more    unsuccessfully  than 
on  this  day.     Mr.   Denman,  the  queen's  solicitor-general,  was,  if 
not  more  successful,   at    least    infinitely   more   reasonable.     lie 
grounded  his  application  u[>on  the  simple  and  incontrovertible  fact, 
that  the  queen  wjis  in  so  unfortunate  a  position  as  to  be  unable  tJ 
waive  any  right  she  considered  she  i)ossessed,  without  being  exposed 
to  the  most  injurious  imputations.     "  He  begged  to  impress  upon 
then-  lordships  as  well  as  ui>on  the  country,  that  the  claim  of  his 
illustrious  client  was  i)ul  forth  in  self-defen'ce,  because  her  majesty 
could  not  forego  that  claim   without  hazarding  her  reputation,  or 
sacrificing  her  honor,  which,  to  her,  was  dearer  than  life  itself." 

The  kings  attorney-general  showed,  that  if  claim  there  were,  it 
rested  solely  on  usage,  and  that  here  the  law  of  usage  was  without 
application,  as  the  coronation  of  a  queen  consort  was  not  a  right, 
but  a  mere  favi  r  conferred   by  the  king.     The  queen,  in  short,' 


CAROLINE  OF  BRUNSWICK. 


355 


could  no  more  demand  her  own  coronation  than  she  could  that  of 
the  king.  The  Privy  Council  made  a  report  accordingly  ;  it  was 
approved  of  by  the  king,  and  a  copy  was  transmitted  to  Viscount 
Hood.  The  purport  of  it  wju^, — that  as  the  queens  consort  of  this 
realm  are  not  entitled  of  right  to  be  crowned  at  any  time,  it  fol- 
lowed that  her  majesty  Queen  Caroline  was  not  entitled,  as  of 
right,  to  be  crowned  at  the  time  specitied  in  her  majesty's  memo- 
rial. The  conclusion  was  disagreeable,  but  it  was  inevitable. 
They  who  thought,  however,  that  it  would  silence  the  queen  for 
ever,  were  much  mistaken.  If  she  could  not  form  a  part  of  the 
ceremony,  she  could  mar  it  by  her  presence ;  and  this  she  resolved 
to  effect.  An  announcement  was  made  to  Lord  Sidmouth  of  the 
queen's  intention  to  be  present  at  the  coronation,  on  the  10th  of 
July,  and  she  demanded  that  a  suitable  place  might  be  appointed 
for  her  accordingly.  The  noble  lord,  in  a  letter  commencing 
**  Madam,"  and  terminating  without  the  signature  of  the  writer, 
informs  the  queen  that  it  was  not  his  majesty's  intention  to  comply 
with  the  application  contained  in  her  letter. 

The  queen  was  none  the  less  bent  upon  appearing  in  the  abbey, 
and  due  notification  of  the  fact  was  made  to  the  Duke  of  Norfolk, 
as  earl  marshal  of  England,  with  the  request  added,  that  his  grace 
would  order  persons  to  be  in  attendance  to  conduct  the  queen  to 
her  seat.  The  earl  marshal  transmitted  the  letter,  containing  the 
notification  and  request,  to  Lord  Howard  of  Effingham,  who  was 
the  "  acting  earl  marshal"  on  the  day  in  question,  and  that  official 
"  made  his  humble  representations  to  her  majesty  of  the  impossi- 
bility, under  existing  circumstances,  of  his  having  the  honor  of 
obeying  her  majesty's  commands."  Her  majesty,  however,  was 
not  so  easily  got  rid  of.  She  now  addressed  a  note  to  the  Arch- 
bishop of  Canterbury,  informing  him  of  her  desire  to  be  crowned, 
8ome  day  after  the  king,  and  before  the  arrangement:^  for  the 
previous  ceremony  had  been  done  away  with.  The  lord  primate 
humbly  replied,  that  he  was  the  king's  servant,  and  was  ready  to 
obey  any  commands  that  he  might  receive  from  his  royal  master. 
Thus  foiled,  once  more,  the  queen  issued  St  protest  against  the  pro- 
ceedings. This  document  was  drawn  up  by  the  law-advisers  of 
her  majesty.     It  re-asserted  that  the  queen  could  claim,  as  of 


356 


LIVES   OF  THE    QUEENS   OF   ENGLAND. 


right,  to  be  crowned,  and  yet  it  admitted  that  there  had  been  cases 
in  which  the  exercise  of  the  right  "  was  from  necessity  suspended, 
or  from  motives  of  policy  cliecked ;"  and  though  i)erhap3  not  in 
the  sense  in  wliieh  it  was  understood  by  the  queen's  counsel,  the 
king  now  saw  that  there  was  a  "  necessity"  for  the  suspension  of 
the  right  claimed,  and  that  there  were  "  motives  of  policy,"  as  well 
as  of  personal  feeling,  for  declining  to  authorize  the  exercise  of  it. 
The  protest  was  addressed  to  the  king,  from  whom,  says  the  royal 
protester,  "  the  queen  has  experienced  only  the  bitter  disappoint- 
ment of  every  hope  she  had  indulged ;"  but,— and  it  was  in  such 
phrases  she  was  made  to  represent  tlie  nation  as  hostile  against 
the  king,  *'  in  the  attachment  of  the  people  she  has  found  that 
poweiful  and  decided  protection,  which  has  ever  been  her  ready 
support  and  unfailing  consolation." 

Her  majesty's  legal  advisers  supjwsed,  at  least  they  hoped,  that 
she  had  now  done  enough  for  her  dignity,  and  that  with  this  pro- 
test would  end  all  further  prosecution  of  a  matter  which  could  not 
be  carried  further  without  much  peril  to  that  dignity,  and  to  her 
self-respect.  But  even  they  did  not  know  of  what  metal  she  was 
made.  On  the  coronation-day  she  was  up  with  the  dawn,  de- 
termined to  penetrate  into  the  abbey,  or  resolved  to  test  the  popu- 
lar attachment,  the  powerful  and  decided  protection  of  the  people, 
the  ready  support  of  the  public,  of  which  she  boasted  in  her  hist 
protest, — and  see  if,  upon  the  wings  of  one  or  other  of  these 
visionary  essences,  she  could  not  be  borne  to  the  end  which  she 
ardently  desired.  Her  health  had  already  begun  to  suffer  from 
the  effects  of  the  unsettled  and  agitated  career  through  which  she 
had  passed,  but  her  resolution  was  above  all  thoughts  of  health. 
She  was  like  the  sick  gladiator,  determined  to  stand  in  the  arena, 
trusting  to  the  chance  of  striking  an  etfective  blow,  and  yet  almost 
assured  that  defeat  was  certain. 

At  six  o'clock  in  the  morning,  the  poor  queen,  in  a  carriage 
drawn  by  six  horses,  and  with  Lord  and  Lady  Hood,  and  Lady 
Anne  Hamilton,  in  attendance  upon  her,  proceeded  down  to  West- 
minster. The  acclamations  of  the  people  hailed  her  on  her  way, 
and  she  reached  the  front  of  Westminster  LLall  without  obstruction. 
If  many  a  shout  here  welcomed  her  as  she  descended  from  her 


CAROLINE   or  BRUNSWICK. 


857 


carriage,  there  was  something  like  fear,  too,  in  many  a  breast,  lest 
the  incident,  peaceful  as  it  seemed,  should  not  end  peacefully. 
After  some  hesitation,  Caroline,  attended  as  above-mentioned,  ad- 
vanced to  tl>e  doors  of  the  Hall,  amid  much  confusion,  both  of 
people  and  soldiery, — the  first  were  eager  to  witness  the  result,  the 
second  were  uncertain  how  to  act ;  and  their  leaders  appeared  as 
uncertain  how  to  direct  them.  The  officer  on  guard  respectfully 
declined  allowing  her  to  pass^  even  though  she  were,  as  she  said. 
Queen  of  England.  He  could  only  obey  his  orders,  and  they  were 
to  this  effect :  to  give  passage  to  no  one  whatever  who  was  not  the 
bearer  of  a  ticket.  The  queen  turned  away,  disappointed,  pro- 
ceeded on  foot  to  other  doors,  and  encountered  only  similar  results. 
It  was  a  pitiable  sight  to  sec  her,  hurrying  along  the  platform  by 
which  her  husband  was  presently  to  march  in  gorgeous  array,  seek- 
ing for  permission  to  pass  the  way  she  would  go,  ejected  alike 
wherever  she  made  the  application,  forced  back  in  one  direction  by 
officers  in  authority,  and  turned  off  the  platform,  not  roughly,  but 
vet  turned  off,  by  the  common  men  :  and  not  an  arm  of  the  multi- 
tude, upon  whose  aid  she  reckoned,  was  raised  to  help  her  to  her 
end.  They  pitied  her,  perhaps,  but  as  her  presence  there  promised 
to  mar  the  splendor  of  which  they  hoped  to  be  spectators,  they 
wished  she  were  gone,  and  rather  tolerated  than  encouraged  her. 

Never  was  queen  cast  so  low  as  she,  when  flurried,  fevered,  now 
in  tears  and  now  hysterically  laughing,  she  stood  at  the  door  of  the 
Abbey  haggling  with  the  official  who  acted  as  porter,  and  striving 
to  force  or  win  her  way  into  the  interior.  The  chief  of  the  "  door- 
keepers "  demanded  to  see  her  ticket,  but  Lord  Hood  claimed 
exemption  for  her  on  account  cf  her  recognized  rank:  the  door- 
keeper would  not  recognize  the  claim.  "  This  is  your  queen !" 
said  Lord  Hood.  "  Yes,  I  am  your  queen  ;  will  you  admit  me  ?" 
The  assertion  and  the  request  were  repeatedly  made,  but  always 
with  the  same  effect.  No  passage  could  be  given  without  the  in- 
dispensable ticket.  Lord  Hood  possessed  one,  and  the  queen  aps- 
peared  for  a  moment  inclined  to  pass  in  with  that.  But  her  heart 
failed  her,  and,  half  laughing,  to  hide,  perhaps,  what  she  could  not 
conceal,  her  half  crying,  she  declined  to  go  in  without  her  ladies. 
Finally,  a  superior  officer  appeai'ed,  and  respectfully  intimated  that 


858 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS   OF  ENGLAND. 


CAROLINE   OF  BRUNSWICK. 


859 


no  preparations  whatever  had  been  made  for  tlie  accommodation 
of  her  majesty ;  upon  which,  after  looking  around  her,  as  if  search- 
ing for  suggestions  or  help  from  the  people,  and  finding  no  en- 
couragement, she  assented  to  Lord  Hood's  projwsition,  that  it  were 
better  for  her  to  enter  her  carriage  and  return  home- 

She  had  dared  the  hazard  of  the  die :  the  cast  had  been  unfor- 
tunate. She,  for  the  first  time,  felt  degraded,  and  she  withdrew, 
still,  like  the  gladiator  from  the  arena,  conscious  of  bearing  the 
wound  of  which  death  must  ultimately  and  speedily  come. 

Meanwhile,  let  us  tarry  for  a  moment  at  the  l^Iall  and  the  Abbey. 
It  is  not  likely  that  England  will  ever  again  behold  such  a  scene 
of  coronation  splendor  as  that  of  George  IV. ;  and  it  is  quite  certain 
that  England  would  not  care  to  do  so.  The  national  taste  does 
not  merely  regulate  itself  by  the  national  purse,  but  by  general 
principle ;  and  it  is  an  incontrovertible  fact,  that  the  outlay  of 
millions  for  the  crowning  of  one  man,  involves  the  violation  of  a 
principle  which  the  nation  desires  to  see  respected. 

Never  did  sovereign  labor  as  George  IV.  labored,  to  give  eclat 
to  the  entire  ceremony.  He  passed  days  and  nights  with  his  fa- 
miliar  friends,  in  discussing  fiuestions  of  dress,  colors,  fashions,  and 
effects.  His  own  costume  was  to  him  a  subject  of  intense  anxiety, 
and  when  his  costly  habits  were  completed,  so  desirous  was  he  to 
witness  their  effect,  that,  according  to  the  gossip  of  the  day,  a  court- 
gossip  which  was  not  groundless,  his  majesty  had  one  of  his  own 
servants  attired  in  the  royal  garments  ;  and  the  king  contemplated 
with  considerable  satisfaction,  the  sight  of  a  menial  pacing  up  and 
down  the  room  in  the  monarch's  garb.  The  man  did  his  ofBce 
with  as  much  mock  gravity  as  the  dramatic  king,  Mr.  Elliston, 
when  he  showered  tipsy  benedictions,  upon  the  public,  as  he  crossed 
the  platform  over  the  pit  of  Drury  Lane. 

But  it  is  true  in  real  things  as  it  is  in  tragedies,  that  "  the  king  " 
is  not  necessarily  the  principal  character.  Even  in  a  ballet,  the 
sovereign  is  less  cared  for  than  the  chief  dancer  who  cuts  entrechats 
in  his  presence.  So  at  the  coronation  festival  of  George  IV.,  al- 
though he  was  first  in  rank,  and  as  princely  as  any  in  bearing,  he 
was  very  far  from  being  the  first  in  consequence,  or  the  foremost 
man  in  the  people's  love.     This  matter  is  admirably  put  by  Mr. 


Rush,  the  American  ambassador  to  our  court,  who  witnessed  the 
ceremony,  and  made  a  very  nice  distinction  as  to  the  true  po- 
sition of  the  principal  actors  in  it.    In  his  account  of  the  scene,  the 
amiable  and  accomplished  diplomatist  remarks  that  the  chief  splen- 
dor of  the  day,  where  all  wore  an  air  of  joy  and  animation,  was  in 
the  HalL     *'The  table  for  the  king's  banquet,"  he  remarks,  "was 
spread  on  the  royal  platform ;  the  foreign  ambassadors  and  minis- 
Xov>  had  theirs  in  the  painted  chamber  of  the  house  of  lords,  a 
communicating  apartment  under  the  same  roof,— but  we  ran  from 
it  soon  to  come  into  the  hall,  the  centre  of  all  attraction.     The 
peeresses,  i>eers,  and  others  associated  with  them  had  theirs  in  the 
body  of  the  hall.     Here  six  long  tables  were  laid,  three  on  each 
side,  leaving  a  vista,  or  aisle,  open  in  the  middle,  which  directly 
fronted  the  royal  platform.     The  platform  and  all  the  seats  were 
covered  with  crimson,  which,  with  the  peeresses  richly  dressed, 
and  the  phite  on  the  banqueting  tables,  and  the  company  all  seat- 
ed, with  the  king  at  the  head  of  his  sumptuous  table  shaped  as  a 
crescent,  so  that  he  and  a  few  seated  on  his  right  and  left  faced  the 
whole  company,  made  the  spectacle  extremely  magnificent.     The 
comptroller  and  clerk  of  the  kitchen,  and  purveyor  of  wines  had 
not,  as  may  be  imagined,  overiooked  their  duties.     But  when  the 
champion  appeared  at  tlie  opposite  extremity  of  the  hall,  directly 
in  front  of  the  king,  nothing  seen  at  first  but  tufts  of  plumes  waving 
from  his  horse's  head,  and  his  own  helmet,  startling  emotions  arose 
in  every  bosom.     Curiosity  was  breathless  to  see  what  was  com- 
ing.   He  was  attended  by  Howard  of  P:fnngham ;  and  by  Anglesea; 
and  by  another  greater  than  all— the  Duke  of  Wellington  ; 
and  as  these,  all  on  horseback,  entered  abreast,  the  champion 
heralding  his  challenge,  and  the  horses  seeming  almost  in  contact 
with  the  outward  line  of  peeresses  at  the  table,  yet  obedient  to  the 
bit  which  they  kept  champing, — as  this  equestriim  train  slowly  ad- 
vanced in  martial  grace  and  strength,  up  the  aisle  towards  the 
king,  all  eyes  were  seen  turned  upon  one  man  in  it.     In  vain  did 
the  declining  sun  through  the  vast  old  Gothic  edifice,  throw  beams 
upon  the  bright  and  heavy  armor  of  the  champion ;  in  vain  was  it 
when  the  horses  reaching  by  slow,  impatient  steps  the  top  of  the 
aisle,  and  proudly  halting  at  the  steps  of  the  royal  platform,  that 


I 


360 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


the  stout-clad  champion  again  put  forth  his  challenge,  threw  down 
his  glove,  received  the  cup  from  his  sovereign  and  drank  to  hig 
Sovereign, — in  vain  all  this ;  the  beauty  and  chivalry  at  the  ban- 
queting tables  still  looked  at  the  Duke  of  Wellington ;  still  kept 
their  eyes  on  the  man  Avhose  person  and  horse  recalled,  not  war  in 
romance,  but  its  stern  and  recent  realities.  All  were  at  gaze, — 
fixed,  silent.  He  was  habited  only  as  a  peer ;  had  only  his  staff 
as  lord  high  constable,  yet  was  he  the  observed  of  aU.  Nowhere 
was  he  more  intently  eyed  than  from  the  box  where  sat  the  as- 
sembled ambassadors  of  the  potentates  of  Europe.  Judging  from 
opinion  in  that  box,  there  was  nothing  in  the  elaborate  grandeur 
of  flic  day  to  rival  the  scene.  It  was  the  inherent  pre-eminence  of 
a  great  man,  exalting  moral  admiration  above  tlie  show  of  the 
whole  kingdom." 

This  was  the  imperative  fact ;  and  the  Emperor  of  Austria,  cold 
and  heartless,  was  as  little  in  presence  of  John  Sobieski,  to  whose 
conquering  arm,  under  God,  he  owed  his  empire,  as  George  IV., 
with  crown  on  his  brow,  was  small  in  the  presence  of  his  own 
lord  high  constable.  The  king  was  the  great  figure  of  the  hour, 
but  the  duke  was  the  great  hero  of  the  age  ;  and  the  truth  was 
not  lost  sight  of  in  the  gorgeous  splendor  of  the  spectacle. 

To  do  the  king  justice,  it  must  be  confessed  that  he  was  among 
the  first  to  acknowledge  the  pre-eminence  of  the  duke  as  regarded 
his  services  and  merits.  At  the  dinner  given  by  the  Duke  of 
TVellington  a  few  days  after  the  coronation,  in  honor  of  the  new 
sovereign,  and  with  that  monarch  as  chief  guest,  this  acknowledg- 
ment was  very  gracefully  made.  At  this  splendid  banquet,  after 
the  noble  host  had  proposed  the  health  of  his  royal  guest — a  toast 
that  was  drank,  all  standing  and  all  silent,  the  king  himself  merely 
rising  to  bow  his  thanks  to  the  company,  George  IV.,  in  turn,  pro- 
posed, in  a  brief  speech,  the  health  of  the  duke.  "  The  purport 
of  his  remarks,"  says  Mr.  Rush,  who  was  present  at  this  interest- 
ing festival,  was,  "  that  had  it  not  been  for  the  exertions  of  his 
friend  upon  the  left,  (it  was  so  that  he  spoke  of  the  duke,)  he,  the 
king,  might  not  have  had  the  happiness  of  meeting  those  whom 
he  now  saw  around  him  at  that  table ;  it  was,  therefore,  with  par- 
ticular pleasure  that  he  proposed  his  health.     The  king  spoke  his 


CAROLINE  OF  BRUNSWICK. 


361 


words  with  emphasis  and  great  apparent  pleasure.  The  duke 
made  no  reply,  but  took,  in  respectful  silence,  what  was  said.  The 
king  continued  sitting  while  he  spoke,  as  did  the  company,  in  pro- 
found silence  under  his  words." 

The  silence  of  the  host  was  true  courtesy.  It  has  not  escaped 
Mr.  Rush's  discernment.  "  I  thought,"  he  says,  "  of  Johnson, 
when  George  III.  complimented  hun;  the  innate  dignity  of  great 
minds  is  the  same.  In  Johnson,  it  was  that  of  the  rough,  virtuous 
recluse — whose  greatness  was  that  of  the  author.  In  Wellington, 
it  was  externally  moulded  into  the  will  which  armies  and  courts, 
and  long  association  with  the  elite  of  mankind  may  be  supposed 
to  give.  Johnson  did  not  bandy  civilities  with  his  sovereign,  whom 
he  had  never  seen  before ;  nor  did  Wellington,  who  saw  him  every 
day !"  It  is  ever  the  same  with  true  gentlemen.  The  famous 
Earl  of  Stair  had  the  reputation  at  the  court  of  Louis  XIV.,  of 
being  the  politest  man  there.  The  king  once  tested  him,  as  they 
were  both  proceeding  towards  the  king's  carriage.  Lord  Stair 
stood  aside  for  his  majesty  to  enter,  but  Louis  bade  him  enter  first 
— a  command  which  he  obeyed  immediately.  *  I  see  you  deserve 
your  high  reputation,'  said  the  French  king ;  '  a  man  less  polite 
would  liave  disobeyed  me  with  civil  assurances,  that  he  could  not, 
for  the  world,  take  precedence  of  the  King  of  France !'  " 

It  would  seem,  however,  that  all  the  nobles  who  shone  at  the 
coronation  festivities  of  George  IV.,  were  not  as  perfect  in  polite- 
ness as  the  warrior-duke.  I  will  cite  an  instance  which  marked 
the  su{)erb  banquet  given  by  King  George  IV.  to  the  ambassadors 
specially  sent  to  grace  the  high  solemnity  of  the  coronation.  To 
this  banquet,  the  foreign  ministers  generally,  and  the  members  of 
the  cabinet,  were  invited  and  were  present.  The  American  am- 
bassador sat  next  to  Lord  Londonderry,  and  the  two  discussed 
between  themselves  what  men  are  now  discussmg,  the  power,  pre- 
tensions, and  mfamy  of  Russia— Lord  Londonderry  affecting  to 
trust  to  the  moderation  of  the  Muscovite — a  moderation  which 
has  been  more  truly  described  by  Lord  John  Russell,  as  more 
menacing  than  the  ambition  of  other  powers.  The  conversation 
then  feU  upon  English  society ;  and  while  on  this  theme.  Lord 
Londonderry  remarked,  "  that  the  higher  the  rank  and  education, 

Vol.  II.— 1 6 


362 


LIVES   OF  THE   QUEENS  OF   ENGLAND. 


the  better  bred,  a3  a  general  rule,  their  people  in  England — so 
he  believed  it  was  considered."  Setting  aside  the  fact  that  this 
is  only  partially  true,  it  was,  at  the  same  time,  a  most  uncourteous 
remark  to  be  made,  by  one  who  was  high  in  rank  and  education, 
to  a  commoner.  But  the  Stewart-Castlereaghs  have  ever  been 
unlucky  in  their  civilities,  and  with  their  precious  balms  they  have 
too  often  bruised  the  heads  they  would  only  have  anointed.  Wit- 
ness the  fact  of  the  banquet  given  by  the  late  Marquis  of  London- 
derry to  the  ambassador  of  Louis  Napoleon.  Everything  was 
well  done  but  one,  and  that  one  thing,  ill  done,  marred  all  besides 
that  was  well.  The  room  in  which  the  English  host  welcomed 
his  French  guest  was  decorated  with  pierced  and  battered  French 
cuirasses,  which  had  covered  the  breasts  of  gallant  French  enemies 
at  Waterloo.  The  man  who  is  unfortunate  enough  to  kill  an  ad- 
versary in  a  duel,  may  possibly,  in  after  years,  be  reconciled  with 
that  adversary's  brother,  and  perhaps  entertain  him  at  dinner; 
but  he  would  hardly  think  of  hanging  up  the  dead  man's  clothes 
(purchased  as  a  trophy  from  his  valet)  in  his  dining-room. 

As  social  traits  of  this  gay  time,  when  the  queen  was  dying 
while  all  the  world  was  dining  or  dancing,  I  cannot,  perhaps,  do 
better  than  describe,  very  briefly,  the  material  grandeur  of  the  two 
principal  state  banquets  given,  one  by  the  Duke,  the  other  by  the 
King,  and  both  in  honor  of  the  newly  crowned  sovereign. 

The  grand  dinner  at  Carlton  House  was  given  on  the  26th  July. 
I  have  already  said  that  the  special  and  ordinary  ambassadors,  and 
the  ministers  were  present.  The  monarch's  brothers  were  also 
among  the  guests, — always  excepting  the  Duke  of  Sussex,  whose 
sympathies  for  Queen  Caroline  had  been  too  markedly  and  pub- 
licly expressed.  I  must  once  more  have  recourse  to  Mr.  Rush  for 
the  details. 

"  We  were  invited  at  seven  o'clock.  As  my  carriage  turned 
into  Pall  Mall  from  the  foot  of  St.  James's  Street,  the  old  clock  at 
St.  James's  struck  seven,  and  before  I  reached  Carlton  Palace  all 
the  carriages  appeared  to  be  entering  or  coming  out  through  the 
double  gates  of  the  Ionic  screen  in  front  of  the  palace.  Mine  was 
among  the  last  that  drove  up  to  the  portico,  and  by  a  very  few 
minutes  past  seven,  all  the  guests,  save  one,  were  assembled  in  the 


CAROLINE   OF  BRUNSWICK. 


363 


reception  rooms.     I  had  never  before  witnessed  such  punctuality 
at  any  dinner  in  England. 

"  The  king  entered  a  minute  or  two  afterwards,  and  saluted  his 
guests  generally,  then  went  the  rounds,  speaking  to  each  individu- 
ally.    With  the  special  ambassadors  he  paused  longest.    Time  had 
now  run  on  to  more  than  a  quarter  past  seven,  still  one  of  the 
guests  had  not  yet  arrived,  and  that  one  was  the  Duke  of  Welling- 
ton.    The  man  not  apt  to  be  behind  time  when  his  majesty's  ene- 
mies were  to  be  met,  was,  it  seems,  in  meeting  his  friends.     Five 
minutes  more  went  by,  and  still  no  Duke  of  Wellington ;  critical 
moments  when  each  one  seemed  to  count  two.     At  length,  in  one 
of  the  rooms  at  a  distance,  the  duke  was  seen ;  he  was  dressed  in 
the  uniform  of  an  Austrian  field-marshal,  a  plain  round-about  jacket 
of  white  cloth,  and  white  under  dress  to  suit,  relieved  by  scarcely 
anything  but  his  sword.     The  dress  being  tight  and  simple,  gave 
to  his  person  a  thinner  look  than  usual ;  and  as  he  kept  advancing 
with  ea<!y  step,  quite  alone,  and  a  general  silence  prevailing,  the 
king  separated  himself  from  the  group  of  ambassadors  where  he 
was  standing,  and  when  he  got  near  enough,  stepped  forward  to 
meet  him.     With  both  hands  he  shook  the  duke  by  both  with 
great  cordiality,  saying  something  which  the  company  could  not 
hear,  but  which,  from  the  manner,  we  took  to  be  a  good-natured 
rally  upon  his  late  arrival.    The  duke  received  it  with  placid  com- 
posure, made  no  reply,  but  bowed.     When  liberated  from  the 
friendly  grasp  of  the  king,  he  approached  a  circle  of  which  I  hap- 
pened to  be  one.     One  of  the  ministers  composing  it  said  to  him, 
*  We  hope  you  will  forgive  our  little  treason,  my  lord  duke,  but 
we  have  just  been  determining,  that  as  some  one  of  the  company 
was  to  be  too  late,  it  was  best  to  have  fallen  to  your  grace's  lot, 
who  can  so  well  bear  it.'     With  a  half  whisper  and  an  arch  smile, 
the  duke  replied,  *  The  king  knows  I  could  have  been  here  sooner 
but  for  attending  to  some  of  his  majesty's  business.'     This,  consid- 
ering the  duke  as  a  cabinet  minister  and  privy  councillor,  had 
doubtless  been  sufficient  to  cure  his  delinquency,  and  secure  for 
him  the  very  cordial  reception  all  had  witnessed.  .  .  .  The  entire 
dinner-service  was  of  gold.     Each  of  the  salt-cellars,  as  well  as  I 
could  catch  the  design,  represented  a  small  rock  in  dead  gold,  on 


'11 


i 


4 


i 


364 


LIVES  OF  THE    QUEENS  OF   ENGLAND. 


which  reclined  a  sea-nymph  holding  in  her  hand  a  shell,  which 
held  the  salt.     One  of  these  was  before  every  two  guests  ;  so  it 
was,  as  to  number,  with  the  golden  coolers  down  the  sides,  contain- 
ing wine.     The  whole  table,  ^ideboard,  and  room,  had  an  air  of 
chaste    and    solid    grandeur,    not    however    interfering   with   the 
restrained  enjoyments  of  a  good  dinner,  of  which  the  king  seemed 
desirous  that  his  foreign  guests  should  in  no  wise  be  abridged,  for 
we  sat  till  past  ten  o'clock."     Contrasting  this  banquet   with  the 
one  given  by  the   Duke  of  Wellington,  the  same  writer  and  guest 
remarks,  that  the  duke's  table-service  was  not  only  brilliant,  but 
that  it  lighted-up  better  than  the  king's  ;  for  being  entirely  of  silver, 
and  very  profuse,  the  whole  aspect  was  of  pure,  glittering  white ; 
unlike  the  slightly  shaded  tinges  which  candles  seem  to  cast  from 
gold  plate.    The  dessert-service  at  the  duke's  was  of  china,  a  pres- 
ent from  the  King  of  Prussia,  and  made  emblematical  of  the  life 
of  the  duke,  commencing  with  a  view  of  Dangan  Castle,  the  birth- 
place of  Arthur  Wellesley,  and  going  through  a  course  of  views 
of  all  the  places  rendered  interesting  by  his  presence,  or  remark- 
able by  his  deeds,  down  to  -the  porcelained  pictoritd  representa- 
tion of  the  crowning  glory  at  Waterloo. 

While  all  these  matters  were  in  progress,  people  who  nursed 
superstition  were  prophesying  some  calamity  to  come ;  and,  cer- 
tainly, among  the  incidents  of  the  coronation  of  George  IV.,  was 
one  which  would  have  been  counted  ominous  in  earlier  days.    The 
gallant  Marquis  of  Anglesea  was  lord  high  steward  on  that  occa- 
sion, and  it  was  part  of  his  office  to  carry  the  crown  up  to  the  altar 
before  the  archbishop  placed  it  on  the  king's  head.    It  was  heavier 
than  the  gallant  lord  high  steward  had  reckoned  upon,  and  the  glit- 
tering crown,  ponderous  with  gold,  diamonds,  and  other  precious 
stones,  slipped  from  his  hands.    He  dexterously  recovered  it,  how- 
ever, before  it  reaohed  the  ground.     An  American  writer  has  re- 
corded her  opinion  of  the  merit  of  another  noble  entrusted  with 
the  temporary  keeping  of  the  crown, — the    Earl  of  Derby ;  of 
whom  Grace  Greenwood,  in  her  "  Haps  and  Mishaps,"  remarks, 
after  seeing  the  noble  earl  bearing  the  "  circlet  of  royalty,"  before 
her  majesty.  Queen  Victoria,  at  the  opening  of  parliament,  that  he 
"  carried  the  crown  with  much  grace ;  just  like  a  waiter  offering 
an  ice ! " 


CAROLINE   OF  BRUNSWICK. 


365 


CHAPTER  XII. 

A    CROWN   LOST   AND    A    GRAVE    WON. 

The  coronation-day  killed  the  queen.  The  agitations  and  suf- 
ferings of  that  eventful  day  called  into  deadly  action  the  germs  of 
the  disease,  under  which  she  ultimately  succumbed.  Once  only, 
between  that  day  and  her  death,  did  she  appear  in  public,  at  Drury 
Lane  Theatre,  and  even  then  she  may  be  said  to  have  been  dying. 

On  August  the  2nd,  the  first  bulletin  issued  from  Brandenburgh 
House,  by  "W.  G.  Maten,  P.  Warren,  and  II.  Holland,"  an- 
nounced that  her  majesty  was  suffering  from  internal  inflammation 
and  obstruction.  Her  sufferings  Avere  considerable,  but  they  were 
borne  with  resignation ;  and  she  even  expressed  a  cheerful  readi- 
ness to  be  gone  from  a  world  in  which  she  had  endured  more  than 
t^he  had  enjoyed.  Her  own  conviction,  from  the  first,  was  that  her 
malady  would  prove  fatal.  No  whisper  of  hope  appeared  to  de- 
ceive or  to  cheer  her.  She  was  determined,  as  it  were,  that  she 
must  die,  and  she  was  prepared  for  the  worst.  Her  feelings  were 
natural  to  a  woman  of  her  disposition  and  character.  She  felt,  that 
despite  all  solemn  protestation,  notwithstanding  all  as  solemn  asser- 
tion, she  had  failed  in  re-establishing  the  reputation  which  she  en- 
joyed during  the  early  years  of  her  residence  in  this  country.  The 
abandonment  of  the  bill  of  pains  and  penalties  had  not  rescued  her 
from  degradation ;  and  the  people  who  were  ready  to  offer  her 
consolation  as  a  woman  who  had  been  most  deeply  wronged  and 
outraged,  were  by  no  means  so  ready  to  espouse  her  cause  further 
than  this.  She  had  herself  confessed  to  indiscretions,  and  when 
the  confession  applies  to  constant  repetition  of  the  offence,  the  pub- 
lic judgment,  even  with  nothing  more  to  warrant  its  exercise,  will 
never  be  slow  to  hold  her  who  acknowledges  so  much,  as  being 
guilty  of  more.  In  her  position,  with  a  reputation  so  soiled,  and 
torn,  and  trodden  upon ;  which  could  not  be  made  bright  by  any 
declaration  (poor  indeed)  that  she  was  not  so  debased  as  she  was 


J': 

ill*" 


14 


I 


^1 


866 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


CAROLINE  OF  BRUNSWICK. 


declared  to  be  bj  her  adversaries ;  for  a  woman  so  placed,  to  die 
is  the  sole  joy  left  her,  if  she  has  made  the  peace  with  God  which 
can  never  again  exist  between  her  and  man.  Iler  few  friends 
were  accustomed  to  saj,  that  in  after  years  her  good  fame  would 
be  substantiated.  After  years— alas!  even  had  that  consumma- 
tion been  accomplished,  it  would  have  little  served  her.  Of  what 
use  to  the  drowned  sailor  is  the  favorable  wind  after  shipwreck  ? 
Assuredly,  her  own  character  perished  mqre  by  her  own  suicidal 
acts,  than  by  the  assaults  made  upon  it  by  those  who  were  inter- 
ested in  damning  it;  just  as  "Tom  Payne"  himself  has  said,  that 
a  writer  may  destroy  his  own  reputation  which  cannot  be  affected 
by  the  pens  of  other  writers. 

To  die  then  was  now  in  the  very  fitness  of  things,  and  death 
made  but  brief  work  with  his  new  victim.     Between  the  second 
and  the  seventh  of  August,  the  suffering  never  ceased  sufficiently 
to  warrant  serious  hope  of  amelioration.     During  the  intervening 
time  she  continued  to   express  her  willingness  to  depart.     She 
signed  her  will,  gave  with  calmness  all  necessary  orders  which  she 
wished  to  be  observed,  spoke  charitably  of  all,  and  little  of  herself. 
Among  her  last  acts  was  one  of  sacrifice,  and  perhaps  posterity 
will   regret  it.     She  ordered  the  diary,  which  she  had  long  kept, 
and  in  which  she  had  entered  the  characters  of  the  most  prominent 
persons  with  whom  she  had  come  in  contact,  to  be  burned.     This 
is  said  to  have  been  done  in  her  presence  ;  but  so  many  things 
only  seem  to  be  done  in  a  dying  presence,  that  our  successors  m^y 
not   despair,  hereafter,  of  becoming  more  intimate  with  Caroline, 
her  thoughts  and  feelings,  than  she  ever  permitted  her  contempo-' 
raries  to  be.     The  great  chance  against  posterity  being  allowed  to 
read  the  scandalous  chronicle,  or  the  justifying  confessions  of  Ca- 
roline, lies  in  the  foct  that  the  series  of  journals  were  burned  by 
a  foreign  female  ser^'ant,  who  knew  nothing  of  their  value.     Such, 
at  least,  was  the  accredited  report. 

After  nearly  five  days  of  intense  suffering,  the  queen  sank  into 
a  stupor  from  which  she  never  awoke.  At  half-past  ten  o'clock, 
on  the  morning  of  the  seventh  of  August,  1821, -after  an  emirj 
absence  of  sense  and  fiiculty  for  more  than  two  hours."  Caroline 
Amelia  Elizabeth  of  Brunswick,  queen  consort  of  George  IV., 


36; 


expired  almo.-t  without  a  struggle.  There  were  with  her  in  her 
supreme  hour,  only  her  faithful  friends.  Lord  and  Lady  Hood,  and 
Lady  Anne  Hamilton.  Her  legal  and  medical  advisers,  with 
Alderman  Wood  and  one  of  his  sons,  were  also  near  her  person. 
She  had  completed  fifty-three  years  and  three  months ;  of  these 
she  passed  by  far  the  happier  and  the  more  innocent  half — happier 
because  the  more  innocent — in  Brunswick.  Of  the  folio  win  «■ 
nineteen  years  spent  in  England,  eighteen  of  them  were  passed  in 
separation  from,  and  most  of  them  in  quarrelling  with,  her  hus- 
band. For  the  first  nine  or  ten  years  of  this  period,  she  lived 
without  offence  and  free  from  suspicion  ;  during  the  remainder 
she  was  struggling  to  re-establish  a  fame  which  had  been  wrong- 
fully assailed  ;  but  this  was  accompanied  by  such  eccentricity  and 
indiscretion,  that  she  seemed  almost  to  justify  the  suspicion  under 
which  she  had  suffered.  Then  came  the  half-dozen  years  of  her 
residence  abroad,  when  she  too  often  shaped  her  conduct  as  though 
she  had  alacrity  in  furnishing  matter  condemnatory  against  her- 
self, to  the  spies  by  whom  she  was  surrounded.  To  say  that  they 
exaggerated  her  offences,  does  not  unfortunately,  prove  her  guilt- 
less of  great  crime.  Her  return  to  England  was  a  bold  step,  but 
it  was  one  she  was  compelled  to  take,  as  I  have  before  attempted 
to  show.  It  failed,  however,  in  its  great  purpose.  She  did  not 
triumph.  Justice,  indeed,  was  not  rendered  her,  for  she  was  con- 
demned before  she  was  tried ;  and  though  the  trial  was  not  car- 
ried to  its  intended  conclusion,  he  who  would  now  stand  forth  as 
the  champion  of  Caroline  of  Brunswick,  would  be  necessarily  ac- 
counted of  as  possessing  more  generosity  than  judgment. 

Neveitheless,  for  this  poor  woman  there  is  something  to  be  said. 
She  was  ill-educated  ;  religiously  educated,  not  at  all ;  and  never 
had  religious  principles,  as  expounded  by  any  particular  church. 
Her  mother  was  a  foolish,  frivolous  woman,  and  her  father,  whom 
she  ardently  loved,  a  brave,  handsome,  vicious  man,  who  made  his 
wife  and  daughters  sit  down  in  company  with  his  mistresses. 
With  such  an  example  before  her,  what  could  be  expected  from 
an  ardent-spirited,  idle,  and  careless  girl  ?  Much — if  she  had  been 
blessed  with  a  husband  of  principle,  a  man  who  would  have  tem- 
pered the  ardor  to  useful  ends,  guided  the  spirit  to  profitable  pur. 


1i" 


S68 


LIVES   OF  THE   QUEENS  OF   ENGLAND. 


pose,  and  taught  the  careless  girl  to  learn  and  love  the  cares,  or 
duties,  rather,  which  belonged  to  her  position.     But  by  whom,  and 
what,  was  that  princess  encountered  in  England,  whither  she  had 
come  to  marry  a  prince  who  had  condescended  to  have  her  in- 
flicted  on    him,  imd   bringing  with  her  the  memories  of  pleasant 
communings  with  more  courteous  wooers  in  Brunswick.^     She  met 
a  husband  who  consigned  her  to  companionship  with  women  more 
infamous  than  ever  she  herself  became,  and  whose  interest   and 
busmess   it  was   to  render   the  wife   disgusting  to  the  husband. 
1  hey  speedily  accomplished  the  end  they  had  in  view,  and  when 
they  had  driven  the  wife  from  the  palace,  they  endeavored  to 
prove  her  to  be  guilty  of  vices  which  she  had  not  then,  in  com- 
mon  with  themselves  and  her  husband.     If  he  ever  justly  com- 
plained  of  wrong,  he  at  least  took  infinite  pains  to  merit  all  that 
was  inflicted  on  him.     He  outraged  every  sense  of  justice  when, 
steeped  to  the    very  lips    in  uncleanness,  he  demanded  that   his 
consort  should  be  rendered   for  ever  infamous,   for  the  allecred 
commission  of  acts  for  which  he  claimed  impunity  on  his  own^'ac- 
count.     From  the  bar  of  man  she  turned  away,  certainly  more 
stricken  and  shattered  than  he ;  but  at  the  tribunal  where  judg- 
ments never  err,  if  his  sentence  be  commensurate  with  his  sin,  he 
may  fall  blasted  for  ever,  unless  mercy  temper  justice  ;— and  liiay 
it  be  so  for  both,  and  for  all. 

But  it  was  the  lot  of  this  unhappy  queen  to  be  persecuted  even 
after  death.  Her  will,  in  which  she  bequeathed  the  little  she  had 
to  leave,  to  William  Austin,— the  protege  who  did  not  very  loner 
survive  her,  contained  a  clause  to  this  effect :  "  I  desire  and  direct 
that  my  body  be  not  opened,  and  that  three  days  after  my  death 
It  be  carried  to  Brunswick  for  interment,  and  that  the  inscription 
on  my  coffin  be,  '  Here  lies  Carolme  of  Brunswick,  the  iniured 
Queen  of  England.'  "  "^ 

The  government,  acting  under  alleged  orders  from  the  king,  but 
influenced,  no  doubt,  by  a  wish  not  to  mar  the  festivities  attendant 
upon  the  visit  of  George  IV.  to  Ireland,  by  allowing  the  queen's 
body  to  remain  longer  than  needful  in  England,  announced  their 
determmation  to  pay  every  sort  of  respect  to  the  orders  and 
wishes  of  her  late  Majesty,  and  to  despatch  the  bodv  to  Harwich, 


CAROLINE   OF   BRUNSWICK. 


869 


at  once,  for  embarkation.     The  personal  friends  of  Caroline  pro- 
tested against  this  unseemly  readiness,  on  tlie  part  of  the  minis- 
ters, to  obey  the  wishes  of  one  who,  when  alive,  never  had  a  wish 
that  was  not  thwarted.     Lady  Hood  addressed  a  letter  to   Lord 
Liverpool,  not  so  much,  indeed,  as  she  said  to  hwi,  as  to  his  heart. 
The  letter  pleaded  for  delay,  on  the  ground  of  the  queen's  ladies 
being  unprepared  ;  and  it  expressly  protested  against  the  intended 
military  escort,  as  being  an  honor  never  allowed  to  the  queen 
when  living,  and  one  not  certainly  desired  by  her  who  was  suffi- 
ciently guarded  by  the  people's  love.     Reply  was  made,  that  the 
arrangements  already  resolved  upon  were  irrevocable,  and  that  if 
the  ladies  were  not  provided  with  the  necessary  mourning,  there 
would  be  nothing  disrespectful  in  waiting  behind  till  they  had  been 
furnished  with  what  was  necessary,  and   then  joining  in  the  pro- 
cession anywhere  on  its  route.     There  was  a  singular  want  of 
courtesy  in  all  the  communications  made  by  the  ministry  to  the 
friends  of  the  queen.     The  latter  could  not  even  learn  by  what 
route  the  body  would  be  conveyed  to  Harwich.     The  most  direct 
road  was  through  the  City  of  London,  and  the  mayor  and  corpora- 
tion had  announced  their  intention  to  attend  on  the  royal  remains 
on  the  passage  through  the  city.     The  government  curtly  inti- 
mated that  the  funeral  cortege  would  not  be  allowed  to  pass  through 
the  city  at  all.     From    the  same  source,    it   was    subsequently 
learned  that  the  coffin  would  be  carried  by  the  circuitous  route  of 
the  New  Road  to  Romford,  and  then  by  the  direct  road  to  Har- 
wich.   The  popular  disgust  was  justifiably  great.    Lord  Liverpool 
asserted  that  he  and  his  colleagues  were  influenced  only  by  feelings 
which  prompted  them  to  show  full  respect  to  the  wishes  of  the 
deceased  queen.      How  very  little  the  noble  lord  was  really  in- 
fluenced by  the  feelings  in  question,  may  be  seen  in  Dean  Pellew's 
Life  of  Lord  Sidmouth.     In  that  work  there  is  a  letter  from  Lord 
Liverpool,  in  which  the  writer  says,  that  he  would  have   dis- 
patched the  body,  the  whole  way,  by  water  to  Harwich,  had  he 
not  been  afraid  of  the  passage  at  London  Bridge  !    In  other  words, 
he  would  have  paid  it  as  much  disrespect  as  was  in  his  power,  only 
that  he  feared  a  popular  demonstration  of  unwelcome  character  at 
the  bridge. 

16* 


370 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS    OF  ENGLAND. 


On  the  14th  of  August,  the  government  authorized  the  persons 
employed  by  them,  to  remove  the  body  from  Hammersmith. 
Ihere  had  been  very  scant  ceremony  displayed  in  a"layincr  in 
state,"  and  the  preparations  noiv  were  but  of  a  meagre  descripTion 
A  few  tawdry  escutcheons,  a  tinsel  coronet,  heralds  in  private 
dresses,  and  a  military  escort,  looking  mournful  rather  because  of 
the  rain,  which  fell  in  torrents,  than  for  any  other  reason. 

When  Sir  George  Naylor,  in  his  official  tabard,  and  Mr.  Bailey 
the  undertaker,  authorized  by  government  to  carry  out  the  pre' 
scribed  arrangements,  entered  the  room  in  which  the  body  lay  in 
order  to  remove  it,  they  were  met  by  Dr.  Lushington,  who  stood 
at  the  head  of  a  small  group  of  her  majesty's  friends,  and  protested 
agamst  the  mtended  removal,  on  account  of  over-haste,  and  aI<o 
against  the  attendance  of  the  soldiery.     "  I  enter  my  solemn  pro- 
test,    said  the  doctor,  "in  right  of  the  legal  power  which  is  vested 
in  me  by  her  late  majesty,  as  executor.    I  command  that  the  body 
be  not  removed  till  the  arrangements  suitable  to  the  rank  and 
dignity  of  the  deceased  are  made."    Mr.  Bailey  declared  that,  with 
t|ie  authority  he  held,  the  body  must  be  removed.     **  Toiu^h  it  not 
at  your  peril,"  exclaimed  Dr.  Lushuigton.     Mr.  Bailey  asked  if  he 
intended  to  use  or  to  recognize  violence.     The  legal  executor 
answered  that  he  would  neitlier  a.ssist  in,  nor  recommend  violence. 
VVhereupon  the  government  officer  declared  that  he  should  dis- 
charge  his  duty  firmly,  and,  he  hoped,  properly. 

But  he  had  to  encounter  a  second  duel  of  words  with  tiie  other 
executor,  Mr.  Wilde,  who  protested  as  Dr.  Lushington  had  done, 
and  to  as  little  purpose.  Mr.  Bailey  said  that  his  orders  were  im ' 
perative,  and  he  would  take  upon  himself  the  responsibility  and 
peril  of  removing  the  body. 

The  procession  then  set  out,  and  never  had  queen  a  funeral  of 
such  stmnge  ceremony  and  circumstances.  The  mourners  com- 
prised  those  friends  and  legal  advisers  who  have  been  so  often 
named:  some  of  them  were  not  in  the  mourning  coaches,  but  in 
their  own  private  carriages.  It  was  a  strictly  government  funeral 
(the  kmg,  It  was  said,  paid  all  the  expenses)  ;  but  there  was  a  multi- 
tude who  descended  into  the  streets  on  that  day.  There  were 
many  among  them  who  deemed  that  the  funereal  charges  would 


CAROLINE   OF  BRUNSWICK. 


371 


after  all,  be  defrayed  out  of  the  public  pocket.  They  were  ac- 
cordingly  determined  that  their  own  programme  should  be  follow- 
ed, and  that  the  body  of  the  queen  should  be  carried  through  the 
City  of  London.  The  ministers,  unwisely,  were  as  obstinately 
bent  in  dragging  the  dead  queen  through  the  outskirts,  and  getting 
her  to  Harwich  in  as  unceremonious  a  manner  as  possible.  They 
professed  great  respect,  but  it  is  certain  that  they  meant  none,  and 
it  was  because  the  people  were  convinced  of  this,  that  they  oc- 
cupied the  highways  on  that  stormy  morning,  resolute  to  bear  the 
inanimate  Caroline,  as  it  were,  and  as  she  had  desired,  on  the  po- 
pular shoulders,  through  the  very  centre  of  the  great  metropolis. 

It  was  between  seven  and  eight  o'clock  when  the  funeral  pro- 
cession,  escorted  by,  or  rather  partly  made  up  of  cavalry,  passed 
through  Hammersmith.    It  met  with  no  obstruction  until  it  reach- 
ed Kensington  Church.    At  this  point  the  first  attempt  to  turn  out 
of  the  direct  road  leading  to  the  City,  by  conducting  the  cortege 
up  Church  Street  into  the  Bayswater  Road,  was  met  by  a  hoarse 
cry  of  execration  on  the  part  of  the  people.     They  went  further 
than  protest.     In  a  brief  space  of  time  the  road  was  dug  up,  ren- 
dered impassable,  and  obstructed  by  a  barricade  that  would  have 
won  the  approval  of  a  Parisian  proffessor  of  tumults.     The  mili- 
tary escort  Tcept  their  places  and  their  tempers;  but  the  Life 
Guards,  with  the  chief  magistrate  of  Bow  Street,  Sir  Richard 
Baker,  speedily  appeared.     They  saw  the  uselessness  of  attempt- 
ing to  force  a  passage  ;  and  when  the  order  was  given  to  proceed 
in  the  direct  route  to  London,  there  broke  forth  a  thundering  shout 
of  victory,  about  the  hearse  of  the  unconscious  queen,  as  though 
expressly  raised  to  give  her  assurance  that  the  people  had  com- 
pelled respect  to  her  will. 

In  the  Park,  the  multitude  had  spent  many  of  the  morning 
hours  in  rushing  from  the  south  to  the  north  side,  from  the  north 
to  the  south  ;  and  again  and  again  repeating  the  same  oscillatory 
movement,  according  as  report  reached  them  that  the  funeral 
would  pass  by  one  or  the  other  line.  The  issue  of  the  struggle  at 
Kensington  having  been  announced  in  the  park,  the  gread  body 
of  the  people  there  had  now  moved  once  more  to  the  south  side, 
and  were   pouring   into   the  Knightsbridge  Road.     Meanwhile' 


jB 


372 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS   OF  ENGLAND. 


I 


orders  had  been  received  from  ministers,  by  Sir  Richard  Baker, 
and  the  commander  of  the  Life  Guards,  to  lead  the  procession 
through  the  Kensington  Gate  of  Hyde  Park  into  the  Edgewai-e 
Road.  But  at  the  gate,  the  scene  which  had  been  enacted  at 
Church  Street,  was  replayed  with  some  additions.  The  people 
forcibly  held  the  gates  closed,  placed  every  impediment  in  the 
way  which  they  could  collect,  and  were  so  fiercely  demonstrative 
with  their  cry  of  "  The  City !  the  City  !"  that  magistrate  and  mili- 
tary  again  yielded  to  the  popular  will ;  and  the  body,  which  had 
halted  amid  the  tumult,  was  once  again  carried  forward  amid 
shouts  of  triumph. 

The  delay  had  afforded  time  to  Sir  Richard  Baker  to  apply  to 
ministers  for  fresh  instructions.     These  were  forwarded  to  him  in 
a  peremptory  order  to  see  that  the  procession  was  conducted  into 
the  Edgeware  Road  either  by  the  east  side  of  the  Park,  or  throu-h 
Park  Lane.     At  both  points  the  suspicious  and  exasperated  po- 
pulace were  ready  for  the  expected  contest.     It  was  here  that  the 
matter  assumed  a  more  serious  aspect  than  it  had  yet  worn.     The 
soldiery  began  to  grow  chafed  at  an  opposition  which,  in  its  turn 
began  to  be  emphasized,  if  I  may  use  the  term,  by  the  employment 
of  missiles.     The  attempt  to  pass  up  the  Park  was  made  in  vain  ; 
that  to  force  Park  Lane  was  equally  ineffectual.     But  while  the 
struggle  was  raging  at  the  latter  point,  the  line  of  procession  was 
broken,  and  that  part  of  it  near  the  gate  turned  into  the  Park  — 
carrying  the  hearse  with  it.     The  military  at  Park  Lane  turned 
back,  followed  the  successful  Mr.  Bailey  and  his  followers,  and 
closing  the  gates  upon  the  public,  the  body  of  the  queen  was  borne 
at  an  unseemly  pace,  onwards  to  Cumberland  Gate.     But  the  in- 
creasingly-excited  people  were  light  of  foot,  and  when  the  head  of 
the  funeral  line  reached  Cumberland  Gate,  with  the  intention  to 
proceed,  not  down  Oxford  Street  to  the  City,  but  up  the  Ed-eware 
and,  subsequently,  the  New  Roads,  there  was  a  compact  mliss  re- 
solved  to  give  no  passage,  and  determined  to  carry  the  royal 
corpse  through  the  metropolis.    It  was  here  that  Sir  Robert  Wilson 
endeavored  to  mediate  between  the  multitude  and  the  military 
The  commander  of  the  latter  had  no  discretionary  power,  and 
could  only  obey  his  orders.     His  men,  hitherto,  had  exhibited 


CAROLINE  OF  BRUNSWICK. 


373 


great  forbearance,  but  their  patience  was  overcome  when  they 
found  themselves  fairly  attacked  by  the  populace,  at  this  point. 
Neither  mob  nor  soldiers  were  really  culpable.  The  blame  rested 
entirely  with  the  ministry,  whose  folly  and  obstinacy  had  provoked 
the  conflict,  and  made  victims  on  both  sides.  The  military  (by 
which  is  to  be  understood  the  Life  Guards,  and  not  the  '  Blues  * 
who  formed  part  of  the  procession,  and  were  quiescent  throughout 
the  day)  at  last  fired  a  volley,  by  which  several  persons  were 
severely  injured,  and  two  men,  Francis  and  Honey,  were  slain. 
Not  a  few  of  the  military  were  seriously  wounded  by  the  missiles 
flung  at  them  in  return,  but  the  hitherto  victors  were  vanquished. 
They  gave  way,  and  across  the  blood  that  had  been  spilt,  and 
among  the  wounded  lying  around,  the  peoples'  queen,  as  they 
called  her,  was  once  more  carried  on  the  way  which  the  respectful 
feelings  of  the  ministry  taught  them  it  was  best  for  her  to  go. 

The  defeat  and  the  victory  seemed  respectively  accepted  by  the 
different  parties.  The  individuals  having  the  body  in  charge, 
and  the  escort,  pushed  hurriedly  forward  with  the  hearse  towards 
the  New  Road.  But  several  of  the  mourners  here  left  a  proces- 
sion, to  form  part  of  which  was  attended  with  peril  to  life.  The 
multitude  looked  moodily  on ;  but  suddenly,  as  if  by  common  im- 
pulse, perhaps  at  suggestion  of  some  shout,  they,  too,  rushed  for- 
ward, determined  to  make  one  more  attempt  at  achieving  a  victory 
for  themselves  and  the  unconscious  queen. 

They  who  were  conducting  the  body  along  the  New  Road 
towards  Romford,  did  not  dream  of  further  opposition,  and  their 
astonishment  was  great  when,  on  arriving  at  Tottenham  Court 
Road,  they  found  all  j)rogress,  east  or  northward,  completely  ob- 
structed, and  no  way  open  for  them  but  southward,  towards  the 
city.  In  this  direction  they  were  compelled  to  turn,  hailed  by  the 
popular  exultation,  and  met  with  shouts  of  execration  and  menace 
as  they  sought,  but  vainly,  at  each  outlet  down  the  east  side  of 
Tottenham  Court  Road,  to  find  a  passage  back  into  the  suburban 
line.  In  the  same  way  the  procession  was  forced  down  Drury 
Lane,  into  the  Strand.  Sir  Richard  Baker  did  not  yield  to  any- 
thing but  compulsion,  yet  he  lost  his  office,  as  Sir  Robert  Wilson 
did  his  commission,  for  endeavoring  to  do  his  duty  under  most 

15* 


874 


LIVES  OF  THE   QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


trying  and  difficult  circumstances.    Once  in  the  Strand,  the  people 
felt  that  their  victory  had  been  fairly  and  irrevocably  achieved. 
V\  hen  the  royal  body  was  carried  under  Temple  Bar,  its  advent 
there  was  hailed  with  such  a  wild  ^'hurrah"  as  had  never  met 
the  ear  of  living  sovereign.     For  seven  hours  that  body  had  been 
dragged  through  wind,  and  rain,  and  mud— the  king's  will  draw- 
ing It  in  one  direction,  the  people  in  another.     How  much  or  how 
little  the  latter  were  influenced  by  earnest  attachment  to  her  for 
whom,  dead,  they  made  this  demonstration,  even  to  the  sheddin- 
of  blood,  it  is  not  easy  to  say.     There  is  less  difficulty  in  comin° 
to  the  decision,  that  they  who  professed  to  be  carrying  out  the 
kmg's  commands  served  him  ill,  and  even  perilled  his  crown  on 
that  day. 

The  civil  authorities  of  the  city,  hurriedly  collected  for  the  occa- 
sion, accompanied  the  royal  remains  as  far  as  the  eastern  limit  of 
the  city's  "liberty,"  Whitechapel.  Thence  to  Romford  the  funereal 
tram  proceeded  at  a  very  varied  pace,  sometimes  as  slowly  as 
became  the  solemnity  of  a  funeral,  at  others  the  pace  would  have 
been  counted  lively  enough  for  a  wedding.  At  Romford,  the 
mourners,  who  had  rejoined  the  cortege,  passed  the  night,  but  the 
royal  corpse  was  carried  on  to  Colchester,  where  it  rested  for  the 
night,  in  St.  Peter's  Church. 

It  was  during  this  night  that  the  silver  plate  announcing  the 
occupant  of  the  coffin  as  -  the  injured,"  or,  according  to  some, 
"the  murdered  Queen  of  England,"  was  affixed  to  the  lid.  When- 
ever this  was  done,  the  plate  was  not  allowed  to  remain.  It  was 
removed,  and  replaced  by  another,  inscribed  simply  with  the  de- 
ceased's name  and  titles,  and  dates,  in  the  usual  form.  They  who 
have  visited  the  vaults  beneath  the  Church  of  .St.  Blaize,  the 
patron  of  Brunswick,  may  remember  that  the  marks  of  the  nails 
which  fastened  the  original  plate  are  still  visible. 

The  journey  to  Harwich  was  unmarked  by  any  particular  inci- 
dent, save  that  everywhere  along  the  route  the  feeling  of  curiosity 
to  see  the  remains  of  Caroline  pass  to  their  last  resting-place,  was 
accompanied  by  manifest  evidences  of  respect.  Off  Harwich  were 
awaiting  the  Ghsffow  frigate,  two  sloops  of  war,  three  brigs,  and 
the  Pioneer  schooner.    The  coffin  was  conveyed  to  the  latter,  after 


CAROLINE   OF   BRUNSWICK. 


875 


being  unceremoniously  swung  into  a  barge,  and  from  the  schooner 
it  was  transferred  to  the  Glasgow.  The  little  group  of  mourners 
followed.  They  consisted  of  Lord  and  Lady  Hood,  Lady  Anne 
Hamilton,  Mr.  Austin,  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Lushington,  and  Count  Vas- 
sali.  Her  majesty's  remains  were  now  in  charge  of  Captain  Doyle, 
who,  when  a  midshipman  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  century  before, 
had  handed  the  rope  to  the  royal  bride,  whereby  to  help  her  on 
board  tlie  Jupiter,  The  squadron  set  sail,  under  a  salute  from 
Languard  fort,  and  at  two  o'clock  p.m.,  on  Sunday,  the  19th,  it 
anchored  in  the  harbor  of  Cuxhaven. 

The  Gannet  sloop  of  war  conveyed  the  body  up  the  Elbe,  to 
the  mouth  of  the  Schwinde,  and  up  the  latter  it  was  carried,  with 
a  guard  of  marines  and  the  mourners,  by  the  boats  belonging  to 
the  Wye  sloop,  as  far  as  Stade.  From  this  place  to  Brunswick 
the  body  of  the  unhappy  Caroline  was  borne,  by  slow  journeys, 
and  amid  profuse  respectful  demonstrations  on  the  part  of  the 
people.  One  of  its  resting-places  by  the  way  was  at  Zell,  in  the 
church  of  which  place  the  body  lay  for  a  night  upon  the  tomb  or 
the  unfortunate  sister  of  George  HI.,  Caroline  Matilda,  Queen  or 
Denmark. 

At  midnight  on  Friday,  August  24,  the  last  rites  were  per- 
formed over  the  deceased  consort  of  George  IV.  The  body  had 
been  removed  from  the  hearse  to  a  funeral  car,  which  was  drawn 
by  some  hundred  Brunswickers,  to  the  cathedral  gates.  No  extra- 
ordinary service  was  allowed  to  be  celebrated  at  the  side  of  the 
vault.  The  Duke  of  Brunswick  was  then  a  minor  and  an  absen- 
tee, and  the  government  of  the  country  was  administered  by  the 
King  of  England.  But  though  the  service  was  of  the  most  ordi- 
nary character,  the  sexagenarian  pastor,  Woolf,  pronounced  an 
oration  above  the  remains  of  the  queen.  He  thanked  God  for 
adorning  her  with  high  advantages  of  mind  and  body,  for  bestow- 
ing upon  her  a  heart  full  of  clemency  and  benignity,  and  for 
placing  her  where  she  could,  and  was  resolved  to  accomplish 
much  good.  But  "  unsearchable,  O  Eternal,  are  thy  ways !" 
was  the  perplexed  pastor's  cry,  as  he  adverted  to  her  subsequent 
career ; — for  terminating  which  the  wisdom  of  the  Almighty  was 
again  to  be  revered. 


376 


LIVES  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  ENGLAND. 


Among  the  range  of  coffins  in  the  vaults  beneath  the  cathedral 
of  St.  Blaize,  at  Brunswick,  Caroline  rests  between  two   which 
contain  two  heroic,  but  far  from  faultless,  men— her  father,  who 
fell  at  Jena,  and  her  brother,  who,  at  the  head  of  his  Black  Bruns- 
wickers,  also  fell,  in  avenging  him  at  Waterloo.     Speaking  of  the 
latter,  « two  small  black  flags,"  says  Russell,  « the  one  an  offering 
from  the  matrons,  the  other  from  the  maidens  of  Brunswick,  are 
suspended  above  his  coffin,  and  its  gaudy  gold  and  crimson  are 
still  mixed  with  the  brown  and  withering  leaves  of  the  garlands 
which  the  love  of  his  people  scattered  on  his  bier,  when  at  mid- 
night he  was  laid  among  so  many  of  his  race  who  had  fought  and 
fell  like  himself."     Between  the  coffins  of  these  two,  lies  that  of 
Caroline  of  Brunswick,  between  father  and  brother  slain.     Her 
mother  died  in  exile,  yet  in  her  own  land ;  and  the  grave  of  her 
murdered  sister,  Charlotte,  the  first  wife  of  the  Prince  of  Wurtem- 
burg,  would  be  sought  for  in  vain.     Surely,  here  was  a  household 
sternly  dealt  with. 

On  the   Sunday  following  the  funeral,  the   venerable  pastor, 
Woolf,  preached  a  sermon  appropriate  to  the  event,  and  which 
ended  in  a  panegyric  on  the  character  of  the  queen.     The  old 
man,  with  singular  tenacity,  clung  to  the  assertion,  that  in  early 
life  "  her  quick  understanding  eagerly  received  every  ray  of  divine 
truth,  and  her  warm  heart  and  lively  feelings  were  excited  and 
elevated  by  piety."     He  declared  that  her  sense  of  religion  in- 
creased to  a  confirmed  faith,  and  that  pious  occupations  were  dear 
to  her  heart.     "  I  knew  her,"  said  the  aged  advocate,  "  as  an  en- 
lightened  Christian,  before  she  left  the  country  of  her  birth.     She 
first  received,  from  my  hands,  with  pious  emotion,  the  holy  Sup- 
per of  our  Lord,  and  the  solemnity  of  her  manner  was  like  her 
previous  devotions,  an  unsuspected  proof  of  her  sincere  faith  and 
pious  feeling."    The  panegyric  would  have  been,  like  most  articles 
of  the  kind,  far  above  the  merit  of  the  subject,  were  it  not  for  the 
strong  qualifying  sentence  in  which  the  preacher  acknowledged 
that  "  the  sense  of  religion,  it  was  true,  did  not  always  preserve 
her  from  infirmities   and  errors ;"— but,  as  he   asked,  after  the 
admission,  "  Where  is  the  mortal,  where  has  there  been  a  saint, 
who  has  been  always  perfect  ?     And,"  said  he,  aptly  and  truly 


CAROLINE   OF  BRUNSWICK. 


377 


enough,  whether  addressed  to  the  friends  or  the  foes  of  poor,  ill- 
/  used,  and  erring  Caroline  of  Brunswick— -"  And  he  who  erred  less,     ^ 
)  may  conscientiously  ask  himself  whether  he  owes  that  to  himsehT    ( 
(  or  to  his  more  fortunate  situation,  and  the  undeserved  grace  of    ( 
God?"     It  is  a  query  which  we  are  all  bound  to  make,  when 
viewing  a  brother  or  a  sister  of  the  human  family  who  is  reputed 
as  guilty  of  offence  towards  God  or  man.   The  latter  is  ever  ready 
to  condemn  his  neighbor,  but  never  ready  to  pass   sentence  on     \ 
himself.    Happy  for  all,  that  with  God  there  is  not  only  judgment,     ' 
but  mercy. 


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Ml  itary  History  of  the  Campaign  of  Waterioo,  from  the  French  of  Gen- 

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Discovery  and  Exploration  of  the  Mississippi  Yallev 

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Narrative  of  a  Voyage  to  the  Northwest  Coast  of  Ameri- 

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Las  Cases'  Napoleon.     Memoirs  of  the  Life,  Exile  and 

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Life  Of  the  Et.  Hon.  John  Philpot  Ciirran.     Bv  his  Son 

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i»iACKENziE.     fourth  Edition.     In  2  vols.    Price  $2  00. 

Barrington's  Sketches.     Personal  Sketches  of  his  Own 

lime.     By  Sir  Jonah  Barrington,  Judge  of  the  Hiffh   Court  of 

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The  Workingman's  Way  in  the  World.     Bein^  the  Au- 

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4         REDFIELD'S    publications. — HISTORY    AND   BIOGRAPHY. 


The  History  of  Texas,  from  its  Settlement  in  1685  to  its 

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Tlie  History  of  Louisiana — Spanish   Domination.     By 

Chables  Gat  iSBs.    8vo,  cloth.    Price  $2  50. 

The   History   of  Louisiana — French   Domination.      By 
Chables  Gatabbe.    2  vols.,  8vo,  cloth.    Price  $3  50. 

The  Life  of  P.  T.  Barniim,  written  by  himself;  in  which 

he  narrates  his  early  history  as  Clerk,  Merchant,  and  Editor,  and  his  later 
career  as  a  Showman.  With  a  Portrait  on  steel,  and  numerous  Illustra- 
tions by  Darley.     1  vol.,  12mo.     Price  $1  25. 

A   Memorial   of    Horatio   Greenonprh,    consistinpr   of  a 

Memoir,  Selections  from  his  Writings,  and  Tributes  to  his  Genius,  by 
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Minnesota  and  its  Resources;    to  which  are  appended 

Camp-Eire  Sketches,  or  Notes  of  a  Trip  from  St.  Paul  to  Pembina  and 
Selkirk  Settlements  on  the  Red  River  of  the  North.  Bv  J.  Wesley  Bond. 
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Falls  of  St.  Anthony.    I  vol.,  12mo,  cloth.     Price  $1  00. 

The  Private  Life  of  an  Eastern  Kinor.     By  a  Member  of 

the  Household  of  his  Late  Majesty,  Nussu:-u-deen,  King  of  Oude.      12mo 
cloth.     Price  75  cents.     [In  Press.] 

Doran's  Queens  of  England.     Tlie  Queens  of  Enirland, 

of  the  House  of  Hanover.  Bv  Dr.  Doran,  Author  of  "TiWe  Traits," 
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REDFIELD'S    PUBLICATIONS.— VOYAGES   AND   TRAVELS.         5 


VOYAGES  AND  TEAVELS. 

The  U.  S.  Japan  Expedition.     Japan  and  Around  the 

Yy      u     ^A/f'°""'  ^^  'T^'"^  'Visits  to  the  Japanese  Empire    with 

t^raCnf  SL^^I^Ji^e^^^  '''^'^'^''"    '  ^^^  -- '^t£  I^l-- 
Cosas  de  Espana.     (Strange  Thin o^s  of  Spain.)     Going  to 

Madrid  via  Barcelona.     12mo,  cloth.    Price  $l(fo.  ^ 

^  He' -I'  ^",.]^"gland.     By  Henry T.  Tuckerman,  Author 

^of     SicUy,  a  Pilgrimage,"  "  The  Optimist,"  &c.    12mo,  cloth.   Price  75  cts. 

^'^Al^l'  t  ^^lg^i"^age,  by  Henry  T.  Tuckerman,  Author 

of    A  Month  in  England,"  &c.,  &c.     12mo,  cloth.    Price  75  cents. 

A  Tennessean  Abroad  ;  or,  Letters  from  Europe,  Asia, 

fh^^T%  ?^  ^^?^^^^  Y\  McGavock,  a.  M.,  L.  L.  B.,  Member  of 
the  I^ashvillc  Bar.     12mo,  cloth.    Price  $1  00. 

Life  in  the  Mission,  the  Camp,  and  the  Zennna.     By  Mrs 

Colin  Mackenzie.    2  vols.,  12mo,  cloth.    Price  $2  00. 

The  Russian  Shores  of  the  Black  Sea,  with  a  Yoyaire 

down  the  Volga,  and  a  Tour  through  the  Country  of  the  Cossacks.  By 
Laurence  Olipiiaxt,  Author  of  "A  Journey  to  Nepaul."  Fourth 
i!.dition.     12mo,  cloth.     Two  maps  and  eighteen  cuts.     Price  75  cents. 

A  Year  with  the  Turks;  or,  Sketches  of  Travel  in  the 

European  and  Asiatic  Dominions  of  the  Sultan.  Bv  Warrington  W. 
^f  .^"!;  ^'.  ^^-  ,Y'»'^  a  f-oloied  Ethnological  Map  of  fhe  Turkish  Empire. 
Third  Edition.     12mo,  cloth.     Price  75  cents. 

Eusso-Turkish  Campaigns  of  182S  and  18i^9.     With  a 

View  of  the  Present  State  of  Affairs  in  the  East.  By  Colonel  Chesnet 
K.  A.,  JJ.  O.  L..,  i.  R.  S.,  Author  of  the  Expedition  for  the  Sur\'ey  of  the 
Kivers  Euphrates  and  Tigris.  With  an  Appendix,  containing  the  Diplo- 
raatjc  Correspondence  of  the  Four  Powers,  and  the  Secret  Correspondence 
between  the  Russian  and  English  Governments.  1  vol.,  12mo  cloth- 
Maps.    Pnce  $1  00.  ,  ,         u , 

White,  Red,  and  Black.     Sketches  of  American  Society, 

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2  vols,,  12mo,  cloth.    Price  S2  00. 

ITie  Blackwater  Chronicle :  A  IS'arrative  of  an  Expedi- 
tion into  the  Land  of  Canaan,  in  Randolph  Countv,  Virginia,  a  Country 
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Otter  Badger,  &c..  &c.,  with  innumerable  Trout,  by  Five  Adventurous 
Gentlemen,  without  any  Aid  of  Government,  and  solely  by  their  Own  Re- 
^urccs  in  the  Summer  of  1851.  By  "  The  Clerke  of  Oxenfordb  " 
With  Illustrations  from  Life  by  Strother.     12mo,  cloth.     Price  $1  00. 


REDFIELD'S    PUBLICATIONS. SCIENCE    AND    ART. 


RKDFIRLD'S    PT^BL  TATIOX?.— BELLES-LETTRES. 


SCIENCE  AND  ART. 

Griscom  on  Yentilation.     The  Uses  and  Abuses  of  Air; 

showing  its  Influence  in  Sustaining  Life,  and  Producing  Disease,  with  re- 
marks  on  the  Ventilation  of  Houses,  and  the  best  Methods  of  Securing  a 
1  ure  and  \Vholesome  Atmosphere  inside  of  Dwellings,  Churches,  Work- 
shops, &c.     By  JoHX  H.  Griscom,  M.  D.     1  vol.,  12mo.    Price  75  cents. 

Bronchitis,  and  Kindred  Diseases.     In  langna^re  adai)ted 

to  common  readers.  ^Bj  W.  W.  Hall,  M.  D.  1  vol.,  12mo.  Price 
$1  00. 

Bodenhainer  on  the  Diseases  of  the  Eectnm.     Practical 

Observations  on  some  of  the  Diseases  of  the  Rectnm,  Anus,  and  Continu- 
ous Textures;  giving  their  Nature,  Seat,  Causes,  Symptoms,  Conse- 
quences and  Prevention ;  especially  addressed  to  non-medical  readers. 
By  W.  BoDENHAMER,  M.  D.  Sccoud  edition,  with  plates,  &c.  In  1  vol.. 
8vo,  cloth.     Price  S2  GO. 

Comparative  Physiognomy ;  or,  Eesemblances  between 

Men  and  Animals.  By  J.  W.  Redfield,  M.  D.  1  vol.,  8vo,  with  sev- 
eral  hundred  Illustrations.     Price  $2  00. 

Episodes  of    Insect  Life.     By  Aciieta   Domestica.     In 

three  Series:—!.  Insects  of  Spring.  2.  Insects  of  Summer.  3.  Insects 
ot  Autumn.  Beautifullv  Illustrated.  Crown  8vo,  cloth,  gilt,  $2  00  each. 
Ihe  same  beautifully  colored  after  Nature,  extra  gilt,  $4  00  each. 

Narratives  of  Sorcery  and  Magic,  from  the  most  Autlien- 

tic  Sources.  By  Thomas  Wright,  A.  M.,  &c.  1  vol.,  12mo.  Price 
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The  XightSide  of  :N"atnre  ;  or,  Ghosts  and  Ghost-Seers. 

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Art  and  Industry,  as  represented  in  the  Exhibition  at  tlio 

Crystal  Palace,  New  York.  Showing  the  Progress  and  State  of  the  vari- 
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vised and  Edited  by  Horace  Greeley.  12mo,  cloth,  fine  paper.  Si  00. 
Paper  covers,  50  cents. 

Chapman's   American    Drawing-Book.     Tlie   American 

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By  John  G.  Chapman,  N.  A.      Three  Parts  now  published.     Price 
50  cents  each. 

Tlie  History  and  Poetry  of  Finger-Kings.    -By  Charlks 

Edwards,  Esq.,  Counsellor-at-Law.     With  Illustrations,  12mo,  cloth. 


BELIES-LETTEES. 

Revolntionary  Tales,  by  Wm.  Gilmore  Simms,  Esq.    New  and  Ke. 
vised  Editions,  with  Illustrations  by  Darley. 

The  Partisan ;    A  Komance  of  the  Kevolution.     12mo, 

cloth.    Price  SI  25.  ' 

Mellichampe ;   A  Legend  of  the  Santee.     12mo,  cloth. 

Pnce  $1  25. 

Katharine  Walton ;  or,  The  Rebel  of  Dorchester.     12mo, 

cloth.     Price  SI  25.  ' 

The    Scout;    or,  The  Black  Eiders  of   the   Congaree. 

12mo,  cloth.     Price  Si  25.  ° 

Woodcraft ;  or,  The  Ilawks  about  the  Dovecote.    12mo. 

cloth.    Price  $1  25.  ' 

The  Forayers ;  or,  Tlie  Paid  of  the  Dog-Days.    A  New 

Revolutionary  Romance.     12mo,  cloth.    Price  $1  25. 

Eutaw.     A  Kew  Revolutionary  Romance.     12mo,  cloth. 

Price  $1  25.     [In  Press.]  ' 

Simms's  Border  Romances  of  the  South,  New  and  Revised  Editions, 

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Tales. 

I.  Guy  Rivers.     A  Tale   of   Georgia.      12mo,   cloth. 

Price  $1  25.  °  ' 

II.  Richard  Hurdis.     A  Tale  of  Alabama.     12mo,  cloth. 

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Price  $1  25.  rr  ? 

IV.  Charlemont.     A  Tale  of  Kentucky.     12mo,  cloth. 

Price  $1  25.    [In  Press.] 

V.  Beauchampe;   or.  The  Kentucky  Tragedy.      12mo, 

cloth.    Price  $125.    [In  Press.]  ^  o      j  > 

VI.  Confession;    or.  The   Blind   Heart.     12mo,  clcth. 

Price  $1  25.     [In  Press.] 

The  Yemassee;   A  Romance  of  South    Carolina.     By 

Wm.  Gilmore  Simms,  Esq.     12mo,  cloth.    Price  $1  25. 

Southward,  Ho !   a  Spell  of  Sunshine.      By  Wm.  Gil- 
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8 


REDFIELD'S    PUBLICATIONS.— BELLES-LETTRES. 


The  Noctes  Ambrosianse.     By  Professor  Wilson,  J.  G. 

LocKHABT,  James  Hogg,  and  Dr.  Maginn.  Edited,  's^'ith  Memoirs  and 
Notes,  by  Dr.  R.  Shelton  Mackenzie.    In  5  volumes.    Price  $5  00. 

The  Odoherty  Papers;  forming  the  first  portion  of  the 

Miscellaneous  Writings  of  the  late  Dr.  Mag  inn.  With  an  Original 
Memoir,  and  copious  Notes,  by  Dr.  R.  Suelton  Mackenzie.  2  vols. 
Price  $2  00. 

Tlie   Shakespeare    Papers,  and   the    Homeric   Ballads; 

forming:  Vol.  III.  of  the  Miscellaneous  WritinjErs  of  the  late  Dr.  Mag  inn. 
Edited  bj  Dr.  R.  Shelton  Mackenzie.     [In  Press.] 

Bits    of   Blarney.      By   Dr.    K.    Shelton    Mackenzie, 

Editor  of  "Shell's  Sketches  of  the  Irish  Bar,"  "Noctes  Ambrosianie  " 
&c.     12mo,  cloth.     Price  $1  00. 

Table  Traits.     By  Dr.  Doran,  Author  of  "  Habits  and 

Men,"  &c.     12mo,  cloth.    $1  00. 

Habits  and   Men.     By  Dr.  Doran,  Author  of  "Table 

Traits,"  **  The  Queens  of  England  under  the  House  of  Hanover."  12mo. 
Price  $1  00.  ' 

Calavar;  The  Knight  of  the  Conquest.     A  Romance  of 

Mexico.  By  the  late  Dr.  Robert  Montgomery  Bird,  Author  of 
"  Nick  of  the  Woods ;"  with  Illustrations  by  Dariev.  12mo,  cloth.  Price 
$1  25.  ^  .  > 

Nick  of  the  ^oods,  or  the  Jibbenainosay.  A  Tale  of 
Kentucky.  Bv  the  late  Dr.  Robert  Montgomery  Bird,  Author  of 
"  Calavar,"  "  The  Infidel,"  &c.  New  and  Revised  Edition,  with  Illustra- 
tions by  Darley.     12mo,  cloth.     Price  SI  25. 

The  Pretty  Plate  ;  A  New  and  Beautiful  Juvenile.     By 

John  Vincent.  Illustrated  by  Darley.  1  vol.,  16mo,  cloth,  gilt.  Price 
50  cents ;  extra  gilt  edges,  75  cents. 

Vasconselos.     A   Komance   of    the    [N'ew   World.     By 

Frank  Cooper.    12mo,  cloth.    Price  SI  25. 

A  Stray  Yankee  in  Texas.     By  Philip  Paxton.     With 

Ulnstrations  by  Darley.     Second  Edition.     12mo,  cloth.    Price  $1  25. 

The  "Wonderful  Adventures  of  Capt.  Priest.     By  Philip 

Paxton.     With  niustrations  by  Darley.     12mo,  cloth.     Price  $1  00. 

Western  Characters;  being  Types  of  Border  Life  in  the 

Western  States.     By  J.  L.  M'Connel,  Author  of  "  Talbot  and  Vernon," 
"  The  Glenns,"  &c.,  &c.     With  Six  Illustrations  bv  Dark  v.     I2mo  clotli 
Price  $1  25.  -  .  >  . 

Sumraerfield;  or,  Life  on  a  Farm.     By  Day  Keblogo 

Lee.     1  vol.,  12mo.    Price  SI  00. 

The  Master-Builder;  or,  Life  at  a  Trade.     By  Day  Kel- 
logg Lee.     1  vol.,  I2mo.    Price  SI  00. 

Merrimack ;   or,  Life  at  the  Loom.     Bv  Day  Kellooo 

Lzt.     1  vol.,  12mo.    Price  $1  00 


REDFIELD'S    PrBLICATIONS. — BELLES-LETTRES. 


The  Works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe.     Complete  in  three  vol- 

umes.     With  a  Portrait ;  a  Memoir  bv  James  Russell  Lowell  •  and  an 
Introductory  Essay  by  N.  P.  Willis.    Edited  by  Rurus  W.  Geiswold 
I2mo.     Pnce  $3  50. 

The  Cavaliers  of  England  ;  or,  The  Times  of  the  Revolu- 
tions of  1642  and  1688.  By  Hinkt  William  Heebekt.  1  vol.,  12mo. 
Ji  lice  $1  29. 

Knights  of  England,  France,  and  Scotland.     By  Henet 

William  Herbert.     1  vol.,  12mo.    Price  $1  25. 

The   Chevaliers   of  France,  from  the  Crusaders  to  the 

'^irr?<?''l^  of  Louis  XIV.    By  Hejtrt  William  Herbert.     Author 
of     The  Cavaliers  of  England,"  "  CromweU,"  "  The  Brothers,"  &c.  &c 
1  vol.,  12mo.     Price  Si  25.  ,  ,  «^ 

Marmadiike  Wyvil;    An  Historical  Eomance  of  1651. 

By  Hexrt  William  Herbert,  Author  of  "  The  Cavaliers  of  Enriand  " 
&c.,  &c.     Fourteenth  Edition.     Revised  and  Corrected.    Price  Si  25.    ' 

The  Forest.     By  J.  Y.  Huntington,  Author  of  "  Lady 

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Alban  ;    or.  The  History  of  a  Young  Puritan.     By  J. 

V.  HuNTixGTON.    2  vols.,  12mo,  cloth.    Price  S2  00. 

lea:    a  Pilgrimage.     By   Caeoline   Chesebro'.     1  vol., 

12mo,  cloth.     Price  Si  00.  ' 

The  Children  of  Light.     By  Caroline  Chesebro',  Author 

of  "Isa,  a  Pilgrimage,"   "Dream-Land  by  Daylight/'  &c..  &c.     12mo 
cloth.     Price  SI  00.  ^   o    >         ,  , 

Dream-Land  by  Daylight:    A  Panorama  of  Romance. 

By  Caroline  Chesebro'.    Illustrated  by  Darley.     1  vol.,  12mo.    Price 
$1  25. 

Clovemook;  or.  Recollections  of  Our  Neighborhood  in 

the  West.    By  Alice  Caret.    Illustrated  by  Darley.    First  and  Second 
Series.     Fourth  Edition.     2  vols.  12mo.    Price  $2  00. 

Hagar ;  A  Story  of  To-Day.  By  Alice  Carey,  Author 
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SI  00. 

Cap-Sheaf,  a  Fresh  Bundle.     By  Lewis  Myrtle.     1  vol., 

12mo,  cloth.    Price  Sl  00. 

Tlie  Youth   of  Jefferson;   or,  A  Chronicle  of  College 

Scrapes  at  Williamsburg,  Va.,  1764.     Cloth.    Price  75  cents. 

Tales  and  Traditions  of  Hungary.    By  Theresa  Pulszkt. 

With  a  Portrait  of  the  Author.     1  vol.     Price  Sl  25. 

The  Lion  Skin  and  the  Lover  Hunt.     By  Charles  db 

Bernard.     12mo.    Price  $1  00. 

Easy  Warren  and  his  Cotemporaries :  Sketched  for 
Home  Circles     By  William  Tubkeb  Coggsshall.    Price  Sl  00. 


10 


REDFIELD*S   PUBLICATIONS. — BELLES-LETTREs 


REDFIELD'S    publications. — MISCELLANEOUS. 


n 


Yon  Have  heard  of  Them  :  being  Sketclies  of  Statesmen 

and  Politicians,  Painters,  Composers,  Instrumentalists  and  Vocalists,  Au- 
thors and  Authoresses.  By  Q.  With  Portraits  on  Steel  of  Horace  Ver- 
net  and  Julia  Grisi.     12mo,  cloth.     Price  $1  00. 

Satire  and  Satirists.     By  James  Hannay.     12ino,  cloth. 

Price  75  cents. 

Full  Proof  of  the  Ministry.     By  the  Kev.  John  K  Nor- 
ton.     l2mo,  cloth.    Price  75  cents. 

Dickens's  Little  Folks,  in  a  Series  of  I8mo  Volumes,  with  Ulustrationa, 
Neatly  Bound  in  Cloth.     Price  38  cents. 

1.  Little  Nell.  4.  Florence  Dombey. 

2.  Oliver  and  the  Jew  Fagin.       5.  Smike. 

3.  Little  Paul.  6.  The  Child  Wife. 

This  is  a  series  of  volumes  which  has  been  undertaken  with  a  view  to  supply 
the  want  of  a  class  of  books  for  children,  of  a  viji^orous,  manlv  tone,  combined 
with  a  plain  and  concise  mode  of  narration.  The  writings  of  Charles  Dickens 
have  been  selected  as  the  basis  of  the  scheme,  on  account  of  the  well-known 
excellence  of  his  portrayal  of  children,  and  the  interests  connected  with  chil- 
dren— qualities  which  have  given  his  volumes  their  strongest  hold  on  the 
hearts  of  parents.  With  this  view  the  career  of  Little  Nell  and  her 
Grandfather,  Oliver,  Little  Paul,  Florence  Dombey,  Smike,  and 
the  Child-Wife,  have  been  detached  from  the  large  mass  of  matter  with 
which  they  were  originally  connected,  and  presented,  in  the  author's  oum  Ian- 
gvage,  to  a  new  class  of  readers,  to  whom  the  little  volume  will,  we  doubt 
not,  be  as  attractive  as  the  larger  originals  have  so  long  proved  to  the  general 
public. 


MISCELLANEOUS. 

The  Works  of  the  Honorable  William  H.  Seward,  with 

a  Memoir,  Portrait  and  other  Engravings  on  steel.  3  vols.,  Svo.  Price 
per  volume,  cloth,  $2  50 ;  half  calf,  $3  75;  full  calf,  extra,  $4  50. 

The  Study  of  Words.     By  K.  C.  Trench,  B.  Dk,  Professor 

of  Divinity  in  King's  College,  London.     1  vol.,  12mo.    Price  75  cents. 

On  the  Lessons  in  Proverbs.     By  R.  C.  Trknch,  B.  D., 

Author  of  the  "  Study  of  Words."    12mo,  cloth.    Price  50*cents. 

The    Synonyms   of    the    Xew  Testament.      By   R.   C. 

Trek CH,  B.  'D.,  Author  of  the  "  Study  of  Words,"  "  Lessons  in  Prov- 
erbs," &<?.,  &c.  Third  Edition,  Revised  and  Enlarged.  12mo,  cloth. 
Price  75  cents. 

English,  Past  and  Present.     By  Rev.  Richard  Cheneyix 

Trench,  B.  D.     12mo.    Price  75  cents. 

Macnulay's  Speeches.     Speeches  by  the  Right  Hon.  T. 

B.  MacaVlat,  M.  p..  Author  of  "  The  History  of  England,"  "  Lays  of 
Ancient  Rome,"  &c.,  &c.    2  vols.,  12rao.     Price  §2  00. 

Meagher's  Speeches.  Speeches  on  the  Legislative  Inde- 
pendence of  Ireland,  with  Introductory  Notes.  By  Thomas  Francis 
Meagher.     1  vol.,  12mo,  cloth.    Portrait.    Price  SI  00. 

Lectures  and  Miscellanies.     By  Henry  James.     1  vol., 

12mo,  cloth.     Price  $1  25. 

Characters  in  the  Gospel,  illustrating  Phases  of  Charac- 
ter at  the  Present  Day.  By  Rev.  E.  H.  Chapin.  1  vol.  12mo.  Price 
50  cents. 

Ballou's   Review   of  Beecher.     The    Divine   Character 

Vindicated.  A  Review  of  the  "Conflict  of  Ages."  Bv  Rev.  Moses 
Ballod.     1  vol.,  12mo,  cloth.    Price  $1  00. 

Maurice's  Theological  Essays.  Theological  Essays.  By 
Frederick  Denison  Maurice,  M.  A.,  Chaplain  of  Lincoln's  Inn. 
From  the  Second  London  Edition,  with  a  New  Preface,  and  other  Addi- 
tions.    1  vol.,  12mo,  cloth.    Price  $1  00. 

The  Pictorial  Bible ;  being  the  Old  and  Xew  Testaments 

according  to  the  Auftborized  Version  ;  Illustrated  with  more  than  One 
Thousand  EngraWngs,  representing  the  Historical  Events,  after  celebrated 
Pictures  ;  the  Landscape  Scenes,  from  Original  Drawings,  or  from  Authen- 
tic Engravings ;  and  the  Subjects  of  Natural  History,  Costume,  and  Anti- 
quities, from  the  best  sources.  1  vol.,  4to,  embossed  binding.  Price 
$6  00. 


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